Every year on my birth­day, I take a moment to mea­sure life not just by the years I’ve lived, but also by the num­ber of trees I’ve plant­ed. Plant Your Age is the tra­di­tion we start­ed to remind our­selves that the true mea­sure of age isn’t can­dles on a cake, but trees in the ground. It’s not just my day; it’s everyone’s day. Each birth­day, wher­ev­er you are, can also be your Plant Your Age Day, a reminder that life is best cel­e­brat­ed by plant­i­ng and nur­tur­ing trees equal to your years.

This year, that reflec­tion feels heav­ier than ever. Today, I cel­e­brate my birth­day with His Holi­ness Pope Leo XIV, the new Pope whose life of faith and lead­er­ship begins a new chap­ter for the Catholic Church. It is also the ninth time in 56 years that this date has fall­en on a Sun­day, the same num­ber of chap­ters in a work I am now releas­ing. Some things can­not be staged; they belong to providence.

For over 30 years, my life has been a jour­ney through mis­takes that became teach­ers, prob­lems that became invi­ta­tions, and respect that formed the foun­da­tion of progress. I call this the MPR lens. It has been test­ed in val­leys of betray­al and on moun­tain­tops of courage. From those decades, I devel­oped a desire to write, a process that took 14 years to dis­till lessons into words the world can understand.

That is why today means more than just my birth­day. It also marks the start of a tes­ti­mo­ny I’ve called Green for Life. This isn’t just a book; it’s intro­duced to the world with a fore­word by H.S.H. Prince Albert II of Mona­co and has the glob­al endorse­ment of Chip Ingram, a respect­ed pas­tor and broad­cast­er whose voice reach­es mil­lions across con­ti­nents. How­ev­er, its deep­est trea­sures stay hid­den until you open its pages.

Why did I write this? Because I saw pain where there should have been joy. I saw lead­ers trad­ing truth for con­ve­nience. I saw our youth drown­ing in noise with­out guid­ance. I saw the earth itself groan­ing for faith­ful stew­ards. I knew that silence was no longer an option.

Through­out this jour­ney, I have also seen over 939 mil­lion trees plant­ed across Kenya and beyond, cre­at­ing liv­ing lega­cies in schools, hos­pi­tals, homes, and land­scapes. Each tree proves that when peo­ple work togeth­er, bro­ken ground can be healed. These trees are more than just sta­tis­tics; they pro­vide shade, oxy­gen, food, and hope.

And yes, today is a Sun­day. For me, Plant Your Age isn’t work; it’s wor­ship and thanks­giv­ing. By join­ing oth­ers cel­e­brat­ing their birth­days, we remind our­selves that the best way to hon­or life is to plant and grow trees equal to our years. If the earth cries out dai­ly, sure­ly the Lord’s Day is the most fit­ting time to respond with hope.

But I will not reveal every­thing the book con­tains here. Instead, I will leave you with ques­tions: What can three decades of MPR teach a world in cri­sis? What hap­pens when one life is lived as a roadmap for oth­ers? What might change if you plant­ed not only trees but also truth, courage, and respect in the soil of your own life?

In a world shak­en by cli­mate shocks, bro­ken trust, and rest­less youth, I present this work not as a man­u­al but as a mir­ror. It does not belong to me; it belongs to you, to Africa, and to the world.

Today, as I plant trees, I also seed this mes­sage into the soil of our shared future. My hope is that you will find in it the same hope that sus­tained me, the same courage that lift­ed me, and the same respect that ground­ed me.

Because when sea­sons con­verge like they do today, life itself speaks. The only ques­tion is whether we will lis­ten. Think Green. Act Green!