When You Feel Small, Remember This… ✍️🏽 In 1977, I walked through the gates of St. Teresa’s Boys High School in Eastleigh, Nairobi. I was 12 years old — small, unsure, and trembling inside. Around me were boys who seemed like men already. They carried themselves with confidence. Some had beards beginning to show, muscles in their arms, and hair on their legs. I felt invisible. This school was a breeding ground for basketball legends. To me, the court was a stage of greatness, and I longed to belong there. But when the new boys — the “Monos” — tried out for the team, I didn’t make it. My name wasn’t even mentioned. My heart sank. That first holiday, I wrestled with myself. I couldn’t grow taller overnight, but maybe… just maybe… I could learn to jump higher. So I gave myself a challenge. I looked at a light bulb hanging outside a neighborhood shop and said to myself: “George, if your hand can touch that bulb, then maybe one day you’ll touch the rim, which is 10 feet high. No boy your age can do that.” And with that… I began to jump. Day after day. Hundreds of times. But my fingers never reached. “Why do you do this?” my brother asked one day. My legs were aching, and since I didn’t want Dad to see me limping, I made my brother run errands for me. He hated it. Still, my hope wore thin. By the last Sunday before school reopened, I had not touched the bulb. So I quit. I even started thinking of soccer. Then one evening, my father sent me to the shops. Passing by the bulb, I leapt at it in anger, almost without thought. I just wanted to slap it. And to my shock, my fingers brushed it. The bulb shattered on the pavement. The shopkeeper came out, furious, accusing me of stoning it. He dragged me home. That night, I got a whipping. But deep inside, I was smiling. Because I knew: I had touched the impossible. The Bible tells us Jesus endured the cross “for the joy set before Him.” In the same way, sometimes you must walk through pain, endure misunderstanding, or even carry failure — because deep inside, you know joy and victory are waiting on the other side. And when school resumed, I joined the basketball team. Not as the tallest or the most skilled, but as the boy who could rebound. The one who could tip shots. The one who could leap where others couldn’t. The one the team couldn’t do without. The very weakness that once made me feel small became the strength that defined me. Here is my little advice to you: 1. Set a clear target. My light bulb gave me something real to chase. 2. Discipline shapes destiny. The daily jumps built strength no one else could see. 3. Breakthrough often comes just past the moment you give up. 4. What feels like weakness can become your gift. 5. Find the unique role only you can play your value lives there. So whatever your “light bulb” is — keep jumping. Because one day, your hand will touch what once felt impossible. — GHO Snr 🌿 Award-winning Life Coach.