“What exactly do you do?” This question began to haunt me.

As soon as I saw the furrowed brow or eyes brimming with confusion, my pulse would accelerate. I would tumble into my A Fresh Chapter monologue – bolting one sentence to the next like a flustered magician searching for the missing bunny in my hat. Somewhere between “ignite purpose” or “inspire possibility”, the sweat would gather in the crease behind my knees. By then, I could see it coming. The “what a wonderful dream” comment delivered with a clear of the throat and an abrupt change of subject.

For over three years, I left meetings with full notepads of other people’s opinions and a deep rooted frustration with my inability to articulate why this work has the power to transform lives.

On long flights, sweaty subway rides, or strolls through a new city, I would rehearse new elevator pitches and peck out the revamped verbiage into the tiny screen on my phone – only to scrap the content hours or days later.

I became haunted by a new question, “How would we ever grow or become sustainable if I couldn’t paint a clearer picture of who we are and why it matters?”

Thankfully, over a gathering this past March in a bustling New York restaurant, a new friend shone a light on what I couldn’t see. With an extensive background in non-profit management and plenty of great stories to tell, it was easy for me to focus the conversation on him. But, as the evening progressed, his questions began.

I smiled between answers even as my stomach somersaulted.

His eyes bore into mine. “Terri, all this possibility and purpose stuff – it’s not a mission. It doesn’t help me understand what you actually do. What exactly do you do?”

I took a long gulp of my wine while he continued, “You have to take what’s implicit to you and make it explicit to everyone else.”

I stabbed a tomato and looked down at my plate. In spite of my slumped shoulders, still he pressed on, “It seems to me like your programs don’t really need to include volunteering. It seems like they are about building connections.”

The roar of my words escaped before I had the chance to compose myself, “No!” I said, “Volunteering is fundamental to what we do. We give people impacted by cancer the opportunity to step outside themselves and give back to others. When they do this, they see that struggle is universal and that is when the healing begins.”

“Say that.” He said beaming. “Struggle is universal. Now that’s explicit. I have goosebumps because you just made it real for me.”

I took a breath and let his words sink in.

Over one dinner, he helped me see what I hadn’t been able to put my finger on through three years of glazed eyes, rejected grants, and failed elevator pitches.

If you want people to believe in your vision, you must take what is implicit to you and make it explicit for them.

A couple of weeks ago, as I sat in a bustling LA cafe buried in a mountain of work, the person next to me asked if I was having a productive afternoon. We got to talking and when he asked me what I do, I said, “A Fresh Chapter uses volunteering and meaningful travel to heal the emotional scars of cancer. We believe that when people have the opportunity to expand their stories beyond cancer – through volunteering and once-in-a-lifetime travel experiences – they see that struggle is universal and new dreams are possible.”

“Boom!” he said. “That’s a great elevator pitch. Tell me more.”

So I did. He offered to introduce me to a friend of his in Cape Town who now wants to help support our upcoming November program. This never would have happened without that lesson on clarity I learned in March.

I share these stories with you today as a way to help you think about the dreams in your life. How can you take what’s implicit to you and make it explicit to everyone else? The clearer you are about what you do, who you are, and where you’re going, the easier it is for people to decide if they want to join you.

On that note, do you want to join us? Here’s what is coming up in our world: