This afternoon, I was invited to share my story at a local
church. Every month, they welcome someone new to come and speak. And if you
know me at all, you know I never turn down an opportunity to share my story and
spread awareness about brain injury.
When I arrived, I’ll admit—I was a bit overwhelmed. The
church was massive, and it looked like there were at least twenty different
ways to enter. A few doors were marked “Not an Entrance,” which thankfully
narrowed down my odds of getting it wrong. After circling the building a second
time (maybe even a third, if I’m being honest), I decided to just go in through
the main entrance. Surely someone inside could point me in the right direction.
Just as I parked, a text came through from the man
organizing the event:
“When you get here, come in through entrance 7 in the back.”
I quickly replied that I had arrived and would be there
momentarily. His next message made me laugh:
“Ok great, I thought I saw you circling the building.”
It’s comforting to know that even people who don’t know me
yet already have my back—or maybe he just had a good sense that a guy with a
brain injury might get a little turned around. Either way, it worked out.
When I speak, I often wonder—are they really listening? Do
my words make sense? Do they connect?
Today, I didn’t have to wonder. I could see it in their faces. They weren’t
just hearing me; they were listening. They laughed at my corny jokes,
nodded at the familiar struggles, and I even noticed a few misty eyes as I
spoke about how God continues to use my journey to spread hope and kindness—to
shine light on what’s often invisible.
They got it. They really got it.
After the talk, several people came up to thank me, sharing
how my message touched them. Some spoke about loved ones living with
Alzheimer’s or dementia—how my story helped them understand what their family
members were going through. A few even bought my book. But for me, it’s never
about the sale. It’s about connection. It’s about reminding people that
everyone carries a story, and not all wounds can be seen.
There’s a saying I hold close to my heart:
“Everyone you meet is fighting a battle you know nothing
about.”
That’s what I want people to remember—to treat one another
with love, patience, and kindness. To never assume. To always care.
As I drove home tonight, reflecting on the day, two simple
words came to mind:
Mission accomplished.
Just testing the comments section to make sure it works. I hope everyone has a great day.
If you see this Rob, when speaking at events is this, how much do you depend on written notes or a bulleted list?
Next time I speak I plan on having some bullet points, so I don’t forget anything. This time I just spoke straight from the heart, and it totally resonated with everyone. But next time, watch out world because I will be more than prepared.