A few nights ago, I sat at a round table in a hotel ballroom in Grand Rapids with my wife and my team, looking at a program with five names listed under “Hispanic Business of the Year.” Ours was one of them. This is the story of the work that got us there. I think it carries a lesson worth more than the award itself.
The Room I Walked Into
The other four nominees were businesses I had known for a long time.
A staffing company that has been quietly putting people to work in this region for years. Two restaurants that anyone in the area would recognize the moment you said the names — kitchens that fill up on a Friday night, where families have celebrated birthdays and anniversaries for as long as I can remember. An HVAC company whose trucks you can see on the road almost any week of the year.
Real, visible, brick-and-mortar businesses. Years of presence. Lines out the door. Teams of people. The kind of companies that look like exactly what most people picture when they hear the words “business of the year.”
And then there was us. Lifedge. A marketing agency. No storefront. No trucks. No menu. Just a team that quietly helps service businesses, nonprofits, and Christian organizations tell their story clearly online.
I was nervous. I was expectant. Above all, I was grateful to even be in the room. And mostly, I genuinely did not think we were going to win.
I had a thought ready for losing. Similarly, I did not have one ready for winning.
When They Called the Name
I do not remember the walk to the front. I remember my wife’s face. I also remember the Lifedge team standing up at our table. I remember my own breath catching. I remember thinking — this is not a moment about me.
Because it is not. And that is the part I want to write about.
The Kid Who Once Held the Wrench
I grew up in Costa Rica. When I was a kid, weekends sometimes meant climbing into one of my dad’s classic Mercedes-Benz cars and driving to a salvage yard, hunting for the right headlight or a turn signal for a 1972, a 1975, a 1979. My dad would find what he wanted, hand me the wrench, and let me figure out how to back the bolt out without breaking the clip. I did not realize at the time that he was teaching me something I would carry into adulthood — that you do not always get to skip the hard part, and that being trusted with the wrench is itself an honor.
I think about that often now. Being called up at a Hispanic Chamber of Commerce event, in a region that has welcomed my family, my faith, and my business, was something my younger self could not have imagined. The Costa Rican kid who once held the wrench is the same person who walked to the front of that ballroom. There is a continuity in that I do not take lightly.
What Nine Years of “Continuous Operation” Actually Feels Like
The award criteria called for seven or more years of continuous operation, excellence in business growth, customer service, job creation, employee relations, and commitment to the Hispanic business community. Lifedge is nine years in.
I want to tell you what most of those nine years actually felt like.
They felt like long days. They felt like quiet weeks where no new client came in. They felt like difficult conversations about pricing, scope, and missed expectations. They felt like learning to lead a team, then re-learning it, then re-learning it again. Those years felt like prayers in the car after a hard meeting. And they felt like waking up at 5 a.m. to read because there was nobody around to teach me the next thing I needed to know.
They did not feel like an award was coming. They felt like work.
That is the part I want any business owner, any founder, any leader reading this to hear. The recognition was not the point. The work was. And the work mostly happens when nobody is watching, when no program has your name in it, when no spotlight is on. The trophy, when it comes, is a confirmation — not the goal.
What Our Work Actually Built
Lifedge started nine years ago with a simple idea — to help businesses grow with clarity and purpose. What began as a small agency has grown into a marketing partner for many businesses here in the Grand Rapids area.
We believe marketing should not feel confusing or overwhelming. We work to bring clarity, to build simple systems, and to create steady growth over time. From websites to SEO to ongoing marketing support, our job is to help businesses communicate clearly and connect with the people they are meant to serve.
But more than the work, what matters most to us is how we do it. We value trust, patience, and strong relationships. We see our clients as partners, and we care about their success — not just their numbers. Many of those relationships have grown into something deeper, where business becomes personal and meaningful.
As a Hispanic business owner who grew up in Costa Rica and now lives in the United States, this journey has been both a privilege and a responsibility. It is a privilege to serve. At the same time, it is a responsibility to do it well, to build something that reflects our values, and to give back to the community that has welcomed us.
Pura Vida
In Costa Rica we have a phrase — pura vida. It is hard to translate. It means something like “pure life,” but it functions as a way of saying I am grateful, things are good, and I am going to meet the day with simplicity and joy.
I have tried to build Lifedge that way. With clarity, with simple systems, with steady growth — and with pura vida underneath all of it. The work is serious, but we do not have to be heavy about it. Likewise, the clients are precious, but the relationship can still be warm. The standards are high, but the day can still be joyful.
Pura vida is not a slogan we put on a wall. It is the posture we try to bring into a meeting, into a difficult email, into a project that has gone sideways, into a celebration that has gone right. If you have ever worked with us, I hope you have felt some of that.
Who the Award Actually Belongs To
If you have been on the receiving end of any kind of recognition, you know this already. The award has your name on it. The work has many names on it.
To my wife — we built this together. There is no Lifedge without her. None of the late nights, the early mornings, the quiet decisions, the leaps of faith. She is the best friend I have.
To my kids — you are the engine. Almost every decision I make has your faces behind it.
To my family — for the way you have shown up through every season.
To the Lifedge team — this award has all of your names on it. Every one of you. The trust, the generosity, the hunger, the friendliness you bring to the work every day is what makes Lifedge what it is. I just happened to be the one walking to the front of the room.
To the mentors God has placed in my life — the conversations, the books, the prayers, the gentle corrections. I am the founder I am because of you.
To our clients — Lifedge does not exist without you. You trusted a Costa Rican guy and his small team with your story, your website, your marketing. You believed the work mattered when it was just a phone call and a proposal. You stayed when we earned it. You sent us your friends. Thank you for the privilege of serving you.
And first and last — thank You, God. What a privilege it is to lead a company and use our gifts to serve people, and to point all of it back to You.
The Thing I Want You to Take Home
If you are a few years into your own thing right now — your own business, your own ministry, your own version of long faithful work — I want you to hear this.
The small daily things compound, even when nobody is watching. Especially when nobody is watching. The award is not the proof. Instead, the work is the proof. The award is just a moment somebody else noticed.
I keep coming back to one verse from that night. “Therefore, my beloved brothers, be steadfast, immovable, always abounding in the work of the Lord, knowing that in the Lord your labor is not in vain.” 1 Corinthians 15:58.
It is not in vain. Even on the weeks it feels like it is.
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