The Gift Hidden in the Struggle

I travel back and forth from North America to Central America, carrying a children’s book that helps young people discover their gift.
And one day, somewhere between airports and classrooms, I caught myself wondering why that word — gift — carries so much weight for me.

It’s because, for most of my life, I had no idea what mine was.
And that’s where my story begins.

Not Every Gift Looks Like One at First

Gifts don’t always come wrapped in pretty paper with matching bows.
Sometimes, they arrive disguised as frustration, failure, or falling behind.

As an educator, I often look back at my younger self with tenderness —
the girl whose handwriting never looked quite right,
who couldn’t sit still,
who stared out the window when she was supposed to pay attention.

My fine-motor skills were weak.
My letters were messy.
I got bored easily.

Today, a child like that might be labeled ADHD.
Back then?
I was simply “the one who never focused.”

Year after year, the struggle followed me.
And yet, somehow, I made it through high school — only to fail out of my first year of college.

That moment could have ended my story.
Instead, it cracked something open.

The Turning Point

I enrolled in a prerequisite English class at the local community college.
I handed in my first essay — nervous, unsure, half-convinced I didn’t belong there.

My professor handed it back and said,
“It was the best paper in the class.”

Looking back now, maybe the bar wasn’t sky-high.
But that didn’t matter.
Because that moment shifted something inside me.

For the first time, I saw myself as capable.
Before that, I only knew myself through the eyes of those who judged or graded me.

Perseverance stopped being a word adults used in lectures —
it became something I lived.

From there, one small win at a time, I kept going.
Bachelor’s degree.
Master’s degree.
Doctorate.

People sometimes call that overachieving.
But it wasn’t about achievement.
It was about reclaiming something I had lost:
my belief in my own potential.

Becoming the Teacher I Needed

Throughout my career in special education, I became the teacher I once needed —
the teacher who sees the child behind the behaviors,
who notices the spark behind the struggle,
who listens instead of labeling.

For more than 30 years, I never gave up on a single student.
I saw myself in so many of them — the restless thinkers, the daydreamers, the ones who colored outside the lines.

Every time a child whispered, “I can’t,” I remembered how many times I had said it too.
And every time one of them succeeded — even in a small way — it healed a part of my own story.

The Moment Everything Made Sense

There’s one memory that stays with me.

I was in my twenties, six months pregnant, shopping for a baby blanket with my mother.
Out of nowhere she said:

“It’s a shame you can’t knit. I worked so hard to teach you.
You resisted me — but at least I managed to switch you from being left-handed to right-handed.”

It hit an old, tender place.
All the years of struggling to fit into a mold that was never meant for me.

But standing there in that store, holding that baby blanket, I realized something:

The struggle itself had been the gift.
The wandering mind.
The daydreaming.
The messy letters.
The unconventional way my brain worked.

It all shaped me into who I am today.
I’m an idea person — always have been.
What once looked like failure was simply potential trying to find its form.

Seeing Gifts Where Others See Gaps

Today, when I see someone struggling, I don’t see deficits.
I see possibility — the beginning of a story that hasn’t yet been written.

I used to struggle to control a pencil.
Now I understand:
that restless, imaginative mind was the gift all along.

Today, the world is my canvas.

Stepping Into Purpose

Last January, I stepped out of the school system and into a larger mission.
I formed Hilltop Communities.
I co-founded PATH, an international nonprofit.

Both grew from one belief:

Every person and every community deserves the chance to uncover their purpose and build something bigger than they ever imagined.

Because no matter where you are on your journey —
where there is potential, there is hope.

A Final Truth

Growth begins with one simple understanding:

You are not broken.
You are becoming who you were always meant to be.

And sometimes, the very things that once felt like setbacks
are just the universe’s way of pointing you toward your gift.