Long before philanthropy became a part of my public life, it was part of my life at home.
My mother lived with multiple sclerosis (MS) and was bedridden for much of the time I knew her. From a young age, I grew up as one of her caregivers. I learned about responsibility, patience and love in ways that no classroom could have taught me.
But my mother gave me something far greater than lessons in caregiving. She showed me what it meant to live with faith, to believe in what was possible even when circumstances seemed to say otherwise, and to trust that there was still a way to make a difference.
Although she could not move freely herself, she found ways to move things for other people.
From her bed, she would pick up the phone, reach out to people and raise funds for those in need. Her physical world may have become smaller, but her concern for others never did. She showed me that you do not need to have everything within your reach to reach someone who needs help.
I watched her turn faith into action. I saw how one conversation could bring people together, how a simple request could become meaningful support, and how a person could make a difference without ever leaving the room.
She taught me to believe that what we hope for can become possible when faith is accompanied by action. That belief has stayed with me throughout my life.
My mother is no longer here, but the lessons she left me continue to shape the work I do. Every time I bring people together for a cause, help mobilise resources for a family, support a community initiative or stand beside someone going through a difficult time, I carry a part of her with me.
In many ways, my journey in philanthropy began long before I had a name for it. It began by watching my mother.
She taught me that you don’t have to be able to do everything to do something that matters. And sometimes, the things you set in motion can reach far beyond what you will ever see.
That is a legacy I hope to keep carrying forward.