It was a few days before my birthday, and my coach and I were driving back to Trophy Awards when a simple question disrupted the story I had been living about my worth.

During those days when my coach would come into the shop, we would often step out in the afternoon to visit Carabello Coffee Company. They were a new business about ten minutes from Trophy Awards, and the husband-and-wife owners would often come by our table and chat with us.

But don’t think those moments were soft. Some of the most challenging and insightful coaching of my life happened over those cups of coffee. Yes, I was sipping something delicious — and at the same time, many of the roots of my identity were being pulled from the soil — and it was painful.

At Trophy Awards, we loved celebrating people’s birthdays. We wrote notes. We decorated desks. And we were very intentional and specific in how we did it. It wasn’t just a pizza day — it was a custom-tailored celebration. The purpose was simple: show that we see the team member, value the team member, and know the team member — their humor, their tastes, their preferences.

My birthday is September 25, and I was about to leave town for a short trip. Tomorrow would be my last day in the shop before I left. I was quietly hoping the timing might let my birthday slip past without much attention.

Yet on September 22, while my coach and I were driving back from Carabello, his phone rang. I couldn’t make out the words, but I could hear what sounded like a woman’s voice coming through his phone. I just heard him say, “Yes… sure… no problem…” a few times before he hung up.

Then he looked at me.

I was driving.
And he said, “I want you to do me a favor and not ask any questions.”

I think I said, “OK?”

“When we get back to the office,” he said, “I want you to pack up your stuff and leave for the day.”

I was annoyed — but not just because I had work to do.

Work was something that helped me feel worthy. It wasn’t just what I did — it was a part of my identity.

I was usually the last one in the shop every night — closing, organizing, making sure everything was just right. I didn’t leave early. I didn’t get sick — or if I did, I worked sick. I missed many of my kids’ ball games, concerts, and field trips because work felt more important. Being dependable, productive, and tireless wasn’t just my role as president… it was tied to how I saw myself.

So in my head, I was asking, Why is he asking me to do this?

And that’s when it clicked.

They hadn’t missed it.
They hadn’t forgotten.

They had connected the dots.

But I honored his request. I did not ask any questions.
I did, however, make a comment.

“You know,” I said, “sometimes I wish my birthday would just fly under the radar. I don’t really like the spotlight or having my desk decorated.”

That’s when, in the quiet of that car, he asked the question I remember to this day.

He didn’t preach.
He didn’t warn me.
He didn’t correct me.

He simply said,
“Tom… do you believe you’re worth being celebrated?”

I worked in the awards industry. We existed to celebrate people. I believed that God placed pieces of His beauty, creativity, and love in every human being — regardless of their wealth, appearance, or skill. It was easy for me to see that in others.

So after a pause, I said,
“Well… sure. I suppose I’m worthy of being celebrated.”

But somewhere deep inside, I didn’t really believe that.
And I definitely wasn’t ready to receive it.

Then he asked another question:

“Well, why not receive it and give thanks for the ways others celebrate you?”

Do you see the brilliance?

It hit my heart like a meteor. Shockwaves ran through my body and soul.

Yes — there is goodness in me.
There is kindness in me.
There is love in me that is worthy of being celebrated.

My old self had quietly believed, I’m not really worthy.

In that moment, that belief was exposed — and replaced with a life-giving one.

When I walked into work the next day, I wasn’t surprised that my desk was decorated. But I was stunned by what hung behind it.

A large banner filled with how my team saw me.

Word pictures.

I still have it.

One person wrote that I was like a wise owl — someone people run to for advice.
Another saw me as a marathon trainer — someone who knows the goal, but understands that the real work happens in the training.
One saw me as a lion — calm, strong, steady.
Another saw me as a river — sometimes peaceful, sometimes powerful, always giving life to what’s around it.
Someone else saw me as a bear — strong, protective, and deeply loyal.

There were many others.

I could have missed all of it.

I could have stiffened.
I could have felt awkward.
I could have wanted to crawl under the carpet.

But I didn’t.

I received it.
And I was grateful — truly grateful.

That act of love still lives in me today.

Now, when I see people shrink from being celebrated — when they deflect, joke, or try to disappear — and when the moment is safe and personal, I sometimes ask them the same question my coach asked me:

“Do you believe you’re worth being celebrated?”

Not to trap them.
But because that question changed my life.
And sometimes a single honest question can disrupt a story that’s been quietly running for decades.

So what about you?

Do you feel worthy of being celebrated?

Here’s the truth: you are.

The only question is whether you’re willing to receive it — and let your heart smile.

As always, if you want to keep walking toward a land of greater love, understanding, and freedom, there’s always a seat open on the bus next to me.