Faith Action and the Two-Pound Promise
From Two Pounds to Purpose: How Faith, Choices, and Kindness Shaped My Life
"Three babies died last night, and an Agard was among them."
The callous words of a nursing attendant, not much older than my 18-year-old mother, stung. Yet the events that followed are what this story is really about.
This is not an economics lesson, a self-help guide, or even a leadership article.
This is my life.
It is a story that sustains me—not because I have heard it all my life, but because it reminds me that circumstances do not determine outcomes. The choices we make, the people we encounter, and how we respond to life's challenges often matter far more than the obstacles themselves.
A Baby Was Coming
My mother was brilliant, beautiful, and only eighteen years old when she chose to have me. My father, a handsome young man with marriage and family the furthest things from his mind, faced a different reality. A baby was coming, and neither of them had finished building the lives they had imagined for themselves.
Thankfully, the Agard mentioned that day was not me.
A more experienced nurse, overhearing the conversation, quietly approached my mother. After three months in an incubator, my condition was critical. I had dropped to less than a pound, and the prognosis was bleak.
Expecting to hear the familiar words, "You're young. You can have more children," my mother instead heard something entirely different.
"If your daughter leaves here, she may die. If she stays here, she will die."
Faced with an impossible decision, my mother chose faith and action.
She signed me out.
Following the advice of an older woman, she carefully sterilized bottles, kept her nails trimmed to prevent infection, and rose early each morning to walk with me. She did so faithfully, day after day, refusing to surrender to fear.
My father viewed the situation differently. Bringing me home meant additional expenses. If I did not survive, there would be funeral costs as well.
But I survived.
And perhaps that is where my complicated relationship with money began.
My Complicated Relationship with Money
Throughout my life, I have often viewed money as something to be used rather than managed. As an entrepreneur, I regularly chose to help families who needed educational services but could not afford them. I accepted explanations, promises, and delayed payments because I genuinely wanted children to succeed.
As a result, I became known not only for educational excellence but also for being kind and understanding.
I also accumulated more outstanding balances than I care to admit.
The same pattern often appeared in friendships. If someone was in need and I could help, I usually did. Sometimes wisely. Sometimes not.
With time, I have learned that generosity is a gift, but stewardship is a responsibility.
The late Maya Angelou wisely observed, "Be careful when a naked man offers you a shirt."
There were moments in my life when I felt emotionally, financially, or professionally exposed, hoping someone might offer me a shirt in support. Occasionally, they did. Occasionally, they did not.
What I discovered, however, is that disappointment can be a poor teacher if gratitude is absent.
Some friends have stepped forward when I needed them most. Others could not. Some relationships changed under the pressure of financial strain. Others became stronger.
That is life.
Friendship, Finance, and Leadership
Friendship, finance, and leadership are more interconnected than we often realize.
As children, our friendships taught us how to negotiate, collaborate, persuade, and build trust. They were our earliest leadership laboratories. As adults, however, friendships evolve. People have families, obligations, careers, and challenges of their own.
One of the greatest leadership lessons I have learned is this:
Become your own best friend.
Develop the strength to stand independently while remaining grateful for those who walk beside you.
When financial support becomes necessary, preserve relationships whenever possible by being honest, accountable, and grateful. Honor those who help. Repay them as quickly as you can. Never take generosity for granted.
The Agard Is Still Here
Today, fifty-three years later, the Agard is still here.
My mother went on to become an exceptional nursing leader, admired by patients and colleagues alike for her compassion, empathy, and care. Ironically, the harsh words she heard that day may have helped shape the kind of nurse she refused to become.
I grew into a healthy child and later became an educator privileged to serve students and families throughout the United States and the Caribbean.
My parents did not remain together, but both are alive and well. My mother eventually had two more children and is now blessed with five grandchildren.
As for me, I remain a work in progress—particularly when it comes to finances.
Yet one truth remains constant.
God has always sustained me.
In every midnight hour, the shirt I needed somehow arrived.
I have never been abandoned.
I have never been left naked.
And for that, I am deeply grateful.
I Am Grateful
I am grateful for the people who invested in me.
I am grateful for the opportunities to serve others through my time, talent, and resources.
I am grateful for the lessons that continue to teach me the difference between generosity and stewardship.
Most of all, I am grateful for the wise nurse who encouraged my mother, believed in my future, and gave her a silver dollar as a symbol of what my life might become.
Born at two pounds, now carrying a few more than that, and writing these words while staring at an account balance of $7.77, I find myself smiling.
Because the number in the account is not the story.
The story is that faith and action have carried me this far.
The story is that I am still here.
The story is that even in life's darkest clouds, there is always a silver lining waiting to be found.
