July 15, 2026

Look at us! We’re officially 6 days away from the end of this challenge. Will I miss it? I’m not sure. I probably will have to come back to reflect on it. One thing I pondered was the amount of material I suddenly have as proof of work. That in itself is a benefit I didn’t even consider until yesterday. Suppose I were going to write and publish a post consistently, once a week. It would take me 15 weeks, which is almost 4 months, to get all the posts I’ve written, and I’m very grateful for doing this. I might probably set myself up for a few more challenges like these. Maybe I’ll do a reading challenge or something else next.  Back to today’s post, the handwriting on the wall. This post is basically me sharing how I realized that I could write, or when I finally realized that my writing was a latent gift, and it came on a quest back to my roots. When people say they enjoy writing or love to write, that was never me. For me, it was reading. I loved to read, and my appetite when I was growing up was for novels. I enjoyed reading. My parents, especially my mom, would buy me books when I was as young as 5 years old, and I enjoyed reading them. I’ve lost count of the novels I’ve read in my years, even though I’m trying to add more self-help books and other books that would advance some specific areas of my life to my library. While my entire family is a family of readers, I noticed that two of my brothers were exceptional writers. I always enjoyed the poems or the thoughts that came out of them. At that time, I just concluded that they were the writers and I was the reader. Reading for me is like medication or food. I can literally stay up all day trying to finish a 600-page novel. I have seen that it has not necessarily translated to reading non-fiction, and I’m currently working on that 🫣. I promise to do better 😂. As an inquisitive person, I had always wondered how two of my brothers got this gift. It was not a question I asked audibly, but it was a silent wonder in my heart for many years. This was because I couldn’t see it anywhere else in my immediate family, at least, so I thought. But I carried this question in my heart.  The answer came most unexpectedly through an intentional ask. In 2022, when I was taking the Unbundling The Decade course by my Pro-Coach DDK, we got to one of her frameworks called the PRESSME Model, and the R here stands for “Root.” She was asking us to go back to our roots and ask questions of our parents and grandparents and see what our history shows us about our lives. I took on this challenge and had a very long call with my mum, asking her to explain our origins and our history as she remembers it. And it was a treasure of information I’m grateful to have. Many things began to make sense, and that’s how I stumbled on the answer to the question I’ve always asked myself.  Apparently, my maternal grandfather was the secretary and scribe to the Ooni of Ife of his time, and at that time a lot of writing was done. My uncle was the secretary to the Ooni that succeeded the one my grandfather worked with. Now it makes sense. Now it makes so much sense. I left that call realizing that I not only found my answer, but I could also key into that heritage if I wanted to. The gift of writing was mine for the taking if I wanted to press into what was already there.  That call also gave me something about myself that I’ve held on to. My mum had always called me “princess,” and I genuinely assumed it was an endearment; however, I am actually royalty, as all four of my grandparents are linked from different royal kingdoms across Nigeria. It gave me the confidence of being both terrestrial and celestial royalty. My heavenly Father is the King of kings, but so is my earthly heritage. That call gave me the answers to many more questions I didn’t even know I was asking. My roots gave me a Pandora box of treasures.  So when people started saying I write well. It made sense. And my personal goal has become to nurture this latent gift and develop it fully. I’m going to write more!   My charge for you today is to go on that quest, back to your roots. The answers to the questions you’ve been asking are waiting for you.  Luke 3:38 NLT Kenan was the son of Enosh. Enosh was the son of Seth. Seth was the son of Adam. Adam was the son of God. We all come from a rich heritage! Go discover what is already yours. See you tomorrow. 🥰