There’s something nobody really tells you about growth:
It’s messy.
It doesn’t arrive wrapped in clarity and confidence.
It doesn’t announce itself with perfect timing.
Most of the time, it sneaks in quietly, disguised as disruption, doubt, or an invitation that feels bigger than you think you can handle.
Over the past few months, I’ve found myself standing at the crossroads of multiple roads — career growth, personal dreams, legacy work, and inner healing — all asking for attention at once. It’s been exhilarating. And exhausting. And beautiful. And, if I’m honest, incredibly messy.
Professionally, I’m balancing a demanding role in commercial roofing marketing while simultaneously launching something deeply personal:
the Agri Planet Foundation, a nonprofit born from a shared vision for resilience, education, and empowerment in Uganda and beyond.
At the same time, I’ve been pouring my heart into Fields of Resilience — a coffee table book capturing the faces, landscapes, and moments from my journey across Uganda through photography and storytelling.
Fields of Resilience isn’t just a creative project. It’s a bridge between worlds — a tribute to the strength and spirit of communities who, despite immense hardship, continue to cultivate hope.
It’s also a reflection of my own journey — the ongoing tension between striving, surrendering, and learning to trust the process of becoming.
Behind the scenes, this season has stretched me in ways I didn’t anticipate. There have been moments of deep excitement, yes — but also quiet grief for the parts of myself I’ve had to leave behind to grow. Some nights I’ve sat at my desk, surrounded by drafts and photos and late emails, wondering if any of it would matter. And every time, the answer that rises up is simple and steady: It does matter. Not because it’s perfect — but because it’s honest. Because it’s real. Because it’s an offering.
In preparation for the book’s launch this August, I’ve redesigned this website to reflect the spirit of Fields of Resilience.
You’ll notice new imagery, softer tones, and a storytelling focus that mirrors the heartbeat of the book.
Right now, a few of the calls to action here are placeholders — there’s nothing yet available for purchase, and the book cover you see is a version 1 concept as the final design is still unfolding.
This season of life — and this website — are both works in progress.
And honestly? I wouldn’t have it any other way.
I’m learning that legacy isn’t something you build once everything is perfect.
It’s created in the messy middle — in the late nights, the doubts, and the small acts of courage to keep showing up before the masterpiece reveals itself.
If you find yourself in your own season of becoming — standing in the in-between of what was and what’s next — I want you to know:
You are not alone.
You are building something beautiful, even if the scaffolding still feels a little shaky right now.
Thank you for visiting, for reading, and for being part of this unfolding story.
There’s so much more to come — and I can’t wait to share it with you.
Stay tuned for updates on Fields of Resilience as we journey toward launch day this August.
The best is still ahead.