Grace In The Shape Of A Rhino
Introduction: Where Grace Meets Grit
Some stories begin with triumph. Mine begins with tension — between beauty and brokenness, between faith and failure, between a quiet neighborhood called The Forgotten Bottom and a loud world that didn’t always make sense. This is not a polished tale. It’s a raw, real, and redemptive journey through addiction, identity, and the relentless grace of God.
At the center of it all? A rhino. Not just a quirky symbol, but a reminder to charge forward with courage, even when life feels impossible. If you’ve ever felt stuck, scarred, or searching for purpose, this story is for you. Because grace doesn’t wait for perfection—it meets us in the mess and invites us to move.
Growing Up in the Forgotten Bottom
I grew up in a small pocket of South Philadelphia called The Forgotten Bottom. Most people have never heard of it, and if they have, it’s usually because of the name. But to me, it was just home.
It was a neighborhood tucked between the train tracks, the river, and the refinery—quiet, tight-knit, and full of people from everywhere. Black, white, Puerto Rican, Asian, Irish, Italian, we all lived together. There was even a street named Harmony Street, which now feels kind of poetic. Back then, it was just where we lived.
We were neighbors, friends, teammates. We shared porches and playgrounds. We borrowed sugar and watched each other’s kids. That was my normal.
Years later, a group of Temple University students published a book called The Forgotten Bottom Remembered. It captured the heart of what I experienced growing up; just ordinary people, living in a community who were able to see past our differences to build a community of love and unity in our little neighborhood. If you know anything about Philly history, you will know that this kind of Brotherly Love was the opposite of what the rest of the city was experiencing. On the cover of that book? That is my sister. Our family was part of the story. That humbles me.
As I got older, I began attending a Catholic school not far from my neighborhood but across the railroad tracks in Grays Ferry. I noticed differences; those observations often confused me. My classrooms were mostly white. Gone was the mix of cultures and backgrounds. Even as a child, I sensed this. It felt strange, even isolating. I did not know why. I really didn’t talk about it; I thought about it, but honestly, I just wanted to fit in. The contrast between my little hidden neighbor and the world outside of it stayed with me, not because I understood it, but because I didn’t.
Inside our home, life was full of love, but full of struggle. My mom and dad loved us deeply, but they both battled alcohol addiction—one moment in particular sticks with me. I was 13. My sisters and I took my dad to rehab. We waited, but he never got out of the car.
I didn’t know it then, but I would carry that moment with me for the rest of my life. And later, it would come full circle.
My childhood and adolescence were not polished or pretty. They were trauma-filled, painful to the core, raw. When I reflect and take inventory of my life, I see how it taught me early on that grace often lives in the tension between beauty and brokenness.
I didn’t understand it then, but the contrast between home and the world outside never left me. It became a question God would answer decades later.
The Day a Rhino Walked into My Life
Add photo of stack of books and the red book here
I didn’t realize it at the time, but the Holy Spirit was planting seeds. Subtle. Slow. Steady. And in the middle of a dusty tent in Bahrain, the watering had already begun.
The Ache I Tried to Fill
I made more than my share of mistakes. Drugs, alcohol, broken choices—I chased everything I thought would fill the hole inside me. But all it did was deepen the ache. Women, sex, more alcohol… while I knew of God, I clearly did not know God.
I wasn’t even thinking about redemption. But now, looking back, I can see how God was already doing the work inside me, even though I didn’t realize it. He kept showing me there was more. It just took a long, long time for me to open my eyes and my heart. And somehow, through all the chaos, He didn’t give up.
Even in the middle of my chaos, God was already writing a story I didn’t know I was in.
Before I left for Desert Storm, someone handed me a small stack of books—including a Bible. Five in total. Something to read during downtime. One of them had this bright red cover with a weird-looking cartoon rhino in a car, horn sticking out the window, glaring at a bunch of cows.
At first, I laughed. But eventually, I cracked it open. The book wasn’t deep theology—not by a long shot. But somewhere around page 100 one line stuck with me: “Believe in this if nothing else: as long as you are believing, why not believe in God?”
It struck me. Silently. Deeply. I didn’t fully understand why, but that question lodged itself in my mind and wouldn’t stop showing up. It made me wonder where I actually stood spiritually and why I was chasing so many other things to fill the emptiness I was feeling.
Over the years, people started giving me rhino gifts. My offices, wherever I worked, slowly became mini rhino museums. Every one of them was a little reminder that my quirks weren’t random; they were part of my calling.
Much later in my journey, after years of collecting rhinos and learning what it really meant to live like one, I had my license plate made: HPYRINO.
Well… maybe that’s even how you found this website.
By then, the rhino wasn’t just about charging harder. It was about trusting God for the strength to charge at all. It was a symbol of faith over fear, of moving forward not in my own power, but in His.
Learning to Charge
Not long after that red rhino book found me in the desert, I started surrounding myself with rhino pictures, figures, mugs, hats, magnets, socks, ornaments. They even hung from my Christmas tree and rearview mirror.
At first, it was just for me. I wasn’t trying to make a statement to the world. I was trying to make a statement to myself: Keep showing up. Keep searching. Keep growing. Keep embracing who God made you to be. (Add pics of the rhino gifts here)
Failing Forward
That book didn’t flip a switch in me. There wasn’t some instant transformation. But it gave me permission to believe there was more—more than my past, more than what I thought I deserved.
I didn’t have it all figured out—not even close. But something stirred. The idea of living boldly, charging forward, not letting fear or failure hold me back.
Problem was, I had a lot of failing left to do. I was still messy. Still selfish. Still searching. But now, something had changed: I started to fail forward.
I wasn’t charging like a rhino yet. Honestly, I was more like a confused, slightly injured rhino calf—bumping into things, running in circles, and often landing face-first in the mud. But God? He was still there. Not waiting for me to clean up, meeting me right there in the mess.
God isn’t looking for perfection. He’s looking for surrender.
I was still falling, but now I was falling forward.
Stepping Out of the Car
Between that red rhino book and the growing rhino mindset, there were three decades of costly confusion. Three decades of damage. Of relational wreckage. Of running hard in the wrong direction—on the outside, chasing success, and on the inside, chasing numbness.
God was still pursuing me. And I was still getting in the way.
In August 2012, I had reached my edge. I got on my knees. I surrendered. I checked myself into rehab. It was one of the hardest decisions I’ve ever made. Not because I didn’t want to change, but because I knew what it would cost.
And I remembered something. When I was 12 or 13, my sisters and I took my dad to rehab. We waited in the car. But he never got out.
That day in 2012, I felt the same weight pressing on me. So, I opened the door. Put my feet on the ground. And I got out of the car.
That didn’t fix everything. But it changed everything. Because surrender is where real purpose starts.
When I stepped out of that car, I stepped into the rest of my life.
What Sobriety Didn’t Fix
Looking back, the tension didn’t disappear after I got sober. If anything, it got heavier. God had blessed me with gifts I didn’t deserve—executive leadership roles, influence, opportunities to encourage others.
And yet behind all the good I was doing; I was still bleeding. Still hiding. Still unraveling. I could lead others while secretly destroying myself.
After six years of sobriety, I slipped. I told myself I had it figured out. That I could control it. I couldn’t.
This wasn’t just about alcohol. It was about pride. And that relapse reminded me that healing isn’t a one-time decision. It’s a daily one. And the moment we stop surrendering, we start slipping.
So, before everything breaks—get honest. Get help. Get out of the car. No matter how deep the damage, God is not done with you.
Every rhino I collected wasn’t a decoration it was a reminder that God equips me to keep charging I just need the faith to take the first step.
Coming Home Again
In July of 2024, I turned 57.
The next day, I unraveled just about all of the good that God had done in me.
Life has a way of catching up with you—and not in the way you hoped it would. For me, it was a stretch of days that blurred together with regret, confusion, and pain. I made choices I wish I could undo. People I love were hurt. Trust was broken.
Just two days later, I received a call that knocked the air out of me and rocked me to the core: my sister had passed away suddenly. Alone.
That same year, I lost a job—one that, deep down, no longer aligned with who I was or who I was becoming.
By the end of 2024, everything I thought was stable in my life was on shaky ground.
And yet—God never changed. He never stopped being good. He never stopped being nearby.
I came back to Him. Again. And He welcomed me. Again.
Not because I’d earned my way back, but because He’s a Father who runs toward prodigals not away from them.
This isn’t a story of finality. It’s a story of faith one day at a time.
Because that’s how grace works. Not for the polished. Not for the perfect. But for the ones who know they need it.
Grace doesn’t wait for you to be ready. It meets you where you are.
Happy Rhino Fridays
When I stepped into a new role leading the Inside Sales team at a Fortune 500 company, the culture was… flat. Performance was inconsistent. Morale was low. You could feel it in the halls—people were showing up, but no one was really alive in their work.
I didn’t come in with a master plan, but I knew one thing for sure: people needed to feel encouraged again. Seen again. Celebrated again.
So, we started small. Candy bars. Shoutouts. A little laughter in the hallway. Then came music. Decorations. A few surprises.
Before we knew it, Happy Rhino Friday was born.
What started as a handful of thank-you notes turned into full-on parades—music pumping, candy flying, high fives everywhere. People lined the walkways just to cheer each other on.
And yes… the CEO even showed up one Friday in a full-blown rhino costume. (If you were there, I bet you’re smiling right now.)
It was fun. It was loud.
And. It. Worked.
Because now people didn’t just feel appreciated they felt seen.
And when people feel seen, they show up differently. They believe again. They bring their full selves to the table.
To everyone who made Happy Rhino Friday what it became—thank you. You weren’t just part of a celebration. You helped bring a movement to life.
Encouragement became contagious—and a movement was born.
Purpose in a Pocket-Sized Rhino
God wasn’t done with me.
Even in the wreckage, He gave me people — men’s groups, new friends, prayer partners, accountability, worship, brotherhood.
And then He gave me a nudge: Get out of self. Go. Serve.
So, I started doing something small. I began handing out little rhino envelopes. Inside: a tiny rhino, a card, and simple words like “Believe in yourself” or “Dare to dream.” I gave them to cashiers, gas station attendants, strangers in drive-thru windows.
It wasn’t about the rhino. That was just the symbol. The purpose was bigger.
It was about reminding someone—anyone—that they mattered. That someone saw them. That God still uses broken people to deliver hope.
Honestly, I needed it more than they did. Each time I gave one away, it chipped away at my pride, my self-focus, my shame. And in that process, something started to shift.
Serving others became the door God used to restore me.
Regardless of how you found this… I do know that you are not here by accident.
Because in those little moments where I was just curious enough and openhearted enough to hear God’s voice—that’s how my purpose was born.
A simple truth became clear: your purpose doesn’t have to be polished. Sometimes it’s just a smile. A kind word. A little courage in an envelope.
That’s how we Make Every day Great Again. That’s how God shows up—through small things that carry eternal weight.
Sometimes God rebuilds us by helping us rebuild others first.
Why MEGA Matters
MEGA didn’t come from a boardroom. It wasn’t whiteboarded or a workshopped vision. It came in the shower.
One morning—raw, broken, sober—I stood there crying and listening to worship music, asking God: “What now? What do I do with all this pain? All this failure? All this mess?”
And in that quiet moment, it was like a whisper in my soul: MEGA.
No… not MAGA.
MEGA — Make Everday Great Again.
Not through hype. Not through hustle. Through Him.
That was the beginning. Not of a brand but of a burden. A mission to bring light. To bring kindness. To love people well, one day at a time. To remind them and myself that God can do a lot with a little when you give it back to Him.
MEGA isn’t a slogan. It’s not a business plan. It’s not even really mine.
It’s a mission.
To make everyday count.
To let love speak louder.
To let kindness lead.
To let Jesus shine—through ordinary people doing ordinary things with extraordinary heart.
A note. A smile. A moment of presence. A weird little rhino with a word of encouragement inside.
That’s MEGA.
The truth? The only way I’ve found to truly Make Every day Great Again is through the One who made every day to begin with — God, Yahweh, Jesus!
He is the source. The strength. The reason. The joy.
Without Him, MEGA is just a phrase. With Him, it’s a purpose. A calling. A way of life.
Because while MEGA is about kindness and encouragement… for me, it always points back to the One who is LOVE.
God is MEGA.
He’s the only One who can redeem a past. The only One who can heal what’s broken. The only One who can make today—no matter how messy—beautiful again.
MEGA is my purpose. Not because I earned it, but because God handed it to me—right in the middle of the wreckage.
In every prayer. Every failure. Every envelope. Every strange little rhino tucked into someone’s hand.
He showed me I was made to encourage. To lift. To serve. To point people back to Him.
And now I’m inviting you to do the same.
So… what made you come here today?
Maybe…you’re carrying something heavy.
Maybe…you found a rhino.
Maybe…someone sent you this.
Maybe… you were behind me in traffic and saw my license plate.
Or maybe… you are simply curious, and somehow you found your way here.
Whatever brought you here, I want you to know you are not here by accident.
You do not need to have it all together to start walking in purpose. You don’t need perfect words or perfect faith. Just a willing heart.
What if today was a MEGA day?
What if you made someone smile?
What if your small act of kindness changed the trajectory of someone’s whole day—maybe even their life?
What if that is your purpose right in front of you?
This is MEGA. This is how we Make Everyday Great Again.
Your small act of kindness might be the biggest thing in someone’s day.
I heard this from an Air1 DJ named CJ: (fine tuned with my quirky tweaks) “The world is full of kind people, and if you can’t find one today, then be one…actually…just be one anyway!”
JUST A BIT ABOUT ME AND WHO(SE) I BE:
Chosen| Redeemed Rhino | Known| Purpose Filled| Saved |Claimed|A King’s Kid
I am just a man learning to walk again with grace, with scars, with purpose.
I’ve failed more times than I can count and carried burdens that nearly broke me. But somewhere along the road, when everything else was stripped away, I discovered the truth: that healing begins when we stop hiding and start loving God wholeheartedly.
I’m not here to impress you. I’m not selling anything, (not here anyway). I am simply offering this story as a way to say: You’re not alone. You’re not too far gone. And it’s not too late to start again. He is Ready and Waiting for You!
Through a wild mix of pain, redemption, and relentless grace, I found a new rhythm one marked by walking in the spirit, doing my best to be present, to be kind even when it’s hard, to be filled with courage, to cling to the abounding joy that fills my soul, and most importantly — have a faith in Jesus that he has a good plan for me. I fail everyday, and he still LOVES me!
Some friends call me the Happy Rhino, but my hope is that the world get see a Jesus Joy that has placed in my heart, it is unexplainable and undeniably from Him.
This is just my story.
And if it helps you take your next step, then every hard mile was worth it.
✌🏽🦏