As we near the conclusion of uncovering #unshakable truths in the alphabet, this week’s letter posed an unexpected challenge. In the spirit of authenticity, I consulted the universe (and the internet) and found myself drawn to talent. Perhaps it’s no coincidence, as I believe the moments we are compelled to confront hold the greatest lessons.

It’s Christmas Eve as I write this. Partial empty nester me is nestled in bed, nibbling on crackers and choosing green tea over whiskey tonight — a rare act of restraint, driven by a desire for clarity as I prepare to speak with God (with clarity of mind) tomorrow morning. The house feels different this year. My children, now old enough to shape their own traditions, have made their own festive plans over this period, leaving me with a poignant quiet that has me asking some profound questions.

Chief among them: Am I truly using every opportunity God has given me through my talents?

The answer, if I’m honest, is no. For years, I’ve been anchored by the reliable rhythm of a 9-to-5. A single-income household doesn’t allow much leeway, and the demands of necessity have often drowned out the whispers of passion. The predictable alerts of a salary hitting my bank account — the lifeblood of bills paid and occasional indulgences — have served as a comforting excuse to delay pursuing the purpose I know I was born to fulfil.

But life has a way of interrupting comfort, doesn’t it? Periodically, the safety net I’ve clung to is yanked away, leaving me to grapple with the void it leaves behind. It is in these moments of discomfort that I’ve been forced to confront my truth — and turn to my talent. And here’s the miraculous thing: every time I’ve had to fill that void, something extraordinary has grown in its place. The void doesn’t just demand action; it deepens my hunger. It reminds me that I was made for more.

With each disruption, my desire to plant on my own terms grows fiercer. My longing to pour energy into my passions — to lean into my God-given gifts — becomes an undeniable force.

Let me clarify something here: Talent doesn’t have to be grand or dazzling. It doesn’t demand that we all rise to the stratosphere of Beyoncé, Michelle Obama, or Oprah. Talent is personal. It’s that unique thing you do so effortlessly and instinctively that it’s clear you were born to do it. It doesn’t need applause or an audience. It just needs recognition and care. That’s where its magic lies.

Maybe this is what middle age looks like — a time to pause and take stock of the life we have built, to ask the hard questions: Have I honoured my talents? Am I living a life that reflects my purpose, or am I simply existing in the routine of safety?

These questions are not comfortable, but they are necessary. For me, they have shifted the scales. Where stability once reigned supreme, I now feel a growing need to balance my time differently. I’m learning to be intentional — even selfish — about what I do with my energy. The 9-to-5 keeps the wheels turning, but my talents — the #unshakable truths woven into my spirit — are what bring light to my life.

The truth is these gifts aren’t just for us. They are our offering to the world, our legacy. They’re the words that will one day be etched on the tombstones of our lives — not the jobs we held, but the light we shared.

So here’s my challenge to you: Take a moment to reflect. Are you leaning into your talents? Are you nurturing the #unshakable truth of your purpose, or are you settling for the comfort of routine?

For me, the void is widening, and with it, my determination to fill it with something enduring and meaningful.

The beautiful thing about talent is that it is never too late to embrace it. It is not bound by age or circumstance. Whether you are 18 or 80, there’s still time to honour the gifts you have been given. These gifts, no matter how small they seem, have the power to transform not only your life but the lives of those around you.

Let this be your reminder: Talent is your truth. It’s your fingerprint on the world, your #unshakable contribution to the tapestry of humanity.

‘See’ you next week.

 

Downtown
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