This morning, I did something I hadn’t done in many years. I sat down and read a devotional from Our Daily Bread. My mother-in-law, Sandy, had shared it with me, and as I read, I was reminded of a time in my life when Scripture was a regular source of encouragement, strength, and perspective.
Over the years, my relationship with faith has gone through its own journey. I’ve experienced moments of great conviction, moments of questioning, and moments of disappointment, especially when people I admired and respected revealed the same human struggles and shortcomings that we all have. I’ve come to understand that people are imperfect, including me. And perhaps part of growing older and becoming a little wiser is learning to distinguish between the principles we believe in and the imperfect human beings who seek to live by them.
Today’s reading brought me back to something simple and powerful. Remembering.
In the book of Deuteronomy, the people of Israel were reminded not to forget where they came from, the wilderness they had traveled through, and how they were sustained along the way. They were reminded that even when life became more comfortable, they should never lose sight of their journey or become so consumed with their accomplishments that they forgot what had carried them forward.
As I sat with that message, my thoughts immediately turned to the people in my life.
The People Who Remembered Me
The last few days have been extraordinary. After sharing my public statement about no longer being with the martial arts school where I had served families for almost thirty years, something happened that I hadn’t anticipated. People began reaching out.
Former students, parents, friends, colleagues, and people from different chapters of my life. Some I hadn’t spoken with directly in years, even decades. Many live in different parts of the world. We’ve followed one another’s journeys from a distance, occasionally exchanging a message or a kind word. And suddenly, there we were, reconnecting.
Two of those people were Kevin Brooks and Jimmy Lockett.
I met Kevin in 1986, during a time when I was finding my way as a young performer. Kevin welcomed me into his life, became my roommate, and encouraged me to pursue opportunities in musical theater. His friendship helped open doors that would eventually lead me to professional performing opportunities and to meeting Renee, the woman who would become my wife.
Then there’s Jimmy Lockett, whom I met in 1989 when we performed together in the first U.S. national tour of Andrew Lloyd Webber’s Starlight Express. Jimmy played Poppa, the wise old steam engine, and I played Bobo. We shared a remarkable chapter of our lives traveling and performing together.
Nearly four decades later, both men reached out after reading my statement. Kevin called me directly, and Jimmy and I spent time together on Zoom yesterday. Jimmy simply wanted to know how I was doing, how I was navigating this chapter of my life, and whether I was taking care of myself.
Think about that. These are men I met nearly forty years ago. Life has taken us in different directions, yet the relationships we formed all those years ago still matter. And what touched me most was that while I was remembering the people who helped shape my life, I was discovering that they remembered me, too.
What a gift that is. And they are just two of the many people who have reached out.
Remembering Where I Came From
As I reflected on today’s reading, I found myself traveling even further back, to that little Puerto Rican boy growing up in the South Bronx. I remember the uncertainty, the fear, the times when I felt alone, and the moments when I couldn’t imagine what my future might look like.
I remember being a teenager without a place to call home. I remember the people who showed me kindness when they had no obligation to do so. People who offered a meal, a place to sleep, an encouraging word, or simply treated me like I mattered. Some of those people may never have realized how much their kindness meant to me. And some of them are still part of my life today.
When I wrote my book, Living Strong Through Martial Arts, I found myself revisiting so many chapters of my life. Some were joyful. Others were painful. Some were memories I hadn’t thought about in decades. What surprised me was how much gratitude I discovered in the process.
Not because everything that happened was good. Some experiences were terribly difficult, and I wouldn’t wish them on anyone. Rather, because I could finally recognize how much I had been given, how many people had helped me, and how much I had grown through those experiences.
I often think about something I’ve come to understand through the years: If I knew how important those moments were, I would have paid more attention.
How many people have crossed our paths whose influence we didn’t fully appreciate at the time? How many conversations, acts of kindness, words of encouragement, or simple gestures helped change the direction of our lives? And how many times have we been that person for someone else without even realizing it?
Something Greater Than Ourselves
I believe there’s something greater than myself at work in this life. I call that God. Others may understand it differently, perhaps as the universe, a higher purpose, or simply the extraordinary interconnectedness of our human experience. For me, what matters is recognizing that we are part of something much greater than our individual accomplishments, struggles, and circumstances.
We don’t travel this journey alone. The people we meet matter. The relationships we build matter. The kindness we extend matters. And sometimes, when life takes an unexpected turn, those relationships remind us of what truly lasts.
At 65 years old, I’m still learning this. I’m learning that strength isn’t always about standing tall and pushing forward. Sometimes strength is allowing someone to reach out and ask how you’re doing. Sometimes it’s accepting encouragement. Sometimes it’s recognizing that even after decades, someone still remembers you, cares about you, and wants to know that you’re okay. And sometimes it’s simply taking a moment to say thank you.
Thank you to the people who believed in me when I struggled to believe in myself. Thank you to those who opened doors, offered encouragement, shared their wisdom, and walked beside me through different chapters of my life. Thank you to those who have reached out recently. Your messages, calls, and expressions of kindness have reminded me of something I’ve spent much of my life teaching.
The greatest measure of our lives isn’t simply what we accomplish. It’s who we become and how we touch the lives of others along the way.
The Gift of Remembering
Today’s devotional reminded me that gratitude requires remembering. Remembering where we came from, the people who helped us, the lessons we learned through adversity, and the connections we may not fully understand until many years later. It also means remembering that we still have opportunities, every day, to be a source of hope and encouragement for someone else.
Perhaps one of the greatest gifts we can give another human being is to let them know they haven’t been forgotten.
So today, I encourage you to take a moment and remember. Think about someone who made a difference in your life. Someone who encouraged you, believed in you, helped you through a difficult season, or simply showed you kindness when you needed it most. If they’re still with us, perhaps today would be a good day to reach out. Let them know you remember. Let them know they mattered.
Because sometimes, a simple phone call, a message, or a few minutes of our time can remind another human being that they’re not alone.
And perhaps that’s one of the most important lessons I’ve learned in my 65 years. We may not always understand why our paths cross or where life will take us next. Yet we can remain grateful for the people who walk beside us, the lessons they leave with us, and the opportunities we have to do the same for others.
We remember them. And sometimes, when we need it most, they remind us that they remember us, too.
What a beautiful thing.
Live Strong.
I’d love to ask you something: Who is someone from your past whose kindness, friendship, or encouragement still makes a difference in your life today?
