Grateful to be 39!

February 11, 2026

39.

As I step into my 39th year of life, I remember the day I arrived here in America.

July 21, 1987, I arrived in this country as a five-month-old baby from the Philippines. I had been given up by my birth mother and spent my earliest days in an orphanage. I came here with nothing but need.

And America gave me everything. My parents gave me everything.

Hard to believe that nearly four decades ago, a little orphaned boy was carried through the tunnel at Eppley Airfield and placed into the arms of a loving family. I often think about that moment: my homecoming to America. I had no idea then the life that awaited me. The people I would meet. The places I would go. The doors that would open. The love that would surround me.

For me, America was never just a place on a map. It was a promise.

Safety. Opportunity. Family. Belonging.

As I turn 39, my heart is overflowing with gratitude.

To my family. To my friends. To everyone who called, texted, messaged, posted, or sent kind words my way — THANK YOU. Truly. Your love does not go unnoticed. It means more than you know. Every message is a reminder that I am seen. That I am valued. That I'm loved. That I am held in community.

This year, 2026, will be transformative.

After a long pause, I am ready to pick up where I left off in my search for my birth mother and my birth family. I have been searching for 15 years. There have been moments of exhaustion. Moments of doubt. Moments when I wanted to quit and accept that maybe the answers would never come.

But quitting isn’t in my DNA.

I have worked too hard. I have come too far. My soul is on fire. And I am ready to continue this journey — wherever it leads.

God has my back.

This search is shaped by many unanswered questions, fear of the unknown, and a deep longing to understand where I come from — and the woman who gave me life. I grew up knowing nothing about my biological family, yet always knowing they existed somewhere in this world. That tension lives quietly inside you. It shapes you in ways that are hard to explain.

And that’s the part that can often feel lonely.

Many people in my life love me deeply — but they cannot fully understand what this feels like because they’ve never lived it. Adoption carries gratitude and grief in the same breath. Belonging and displacement. Joy and ache. It is both/and.

And sometimes that complexity feels isolating. Which is why this year, I am choosing connection.

It’s time for me to speak with other adoptees. To sit across from people who carry similar questions. To listen. To share. To hold space for stories that often live in silence.

This will culminate in the launch of a new video podcast series — a platform dedicated to the journeys of people navigating identity, origin, displacement, healing, belonging and becoming. My story is still unfolding. It is unfinished. But it is mine.

And stories like these deserve to be seen.

To be heard.

To be held with care.

Thank YOU for walking with me.

Thirty-nine years ago, I arrived in America as a child with nothing but need.

Today, I stand as a man full of gratitude, faith, fire, and hope.

The journey continues.