There are still mornings I wake up and ask God the same question I wrote about in Twice Over a Man:
Why did I make it?
That question doesn’t come from ego.
It comes from grief.
From knowing the statistics of kids who age out of foster care.
From knowing people I grew up with—just as smart, just as gifted—who didn’t make it out.
After fifty years, here’s what I know: talent was never enough.
Talent may open doors, but it doesn’t carry you when life presses in.
It doesn’t hold you steady when you’re tired, wounded, or doubting yourself.
What carried me was faith.
What sustained me were people.
What shaped me was God—through suffering, obedience, community, and service.
I’m grateful I made it not because I was better, but because I was formed.
And because I was never alone.