The Impact of a Father's Voice on Identity and Leadership

What happens when a father’s voice becomes the voice you hear inside your own head?

For some people, that voice sounds like encouragement, protection, wisdom, laughter, and the steady reminder that they are capable. For others, it sounds like criticism, silence, disappointment, emotional distance, or the ache of words that were never spoken. For many, fatherhood holds both love and complexity, with memories that built confidence alongside moments that created questions they are still trying to answer.

In this Father’s Day episode of Mosaic Sparks, Lesley George uses Simba’s journey from The Lion King to explore the lasting impact of fatherhood on identity, leadership, emotional healing, and legacy. This conversation creates room for celebration, grief, gratitude, disappointment, reflection, and growth because Father’s Day does not feel the same for everyone.

Simba begins life with a strong sense of identity, yet he does not fully understand the responsibility attached to his future. Through Mufasa’s guidance, he learns that leadership requires courage, wisdom, accountability, and service. Then loss, guilt, manipulation, and shame change the way he sees himself, causing him to disconnect from his identity and run from the responsibility attached to his life.

That journey opens a deeper conversation about the voices people carry long after childhood has ended. A father’s words can become emotional anchors. The words “I believe in you,” “I am proud of you,” or “You can learn from this” can shape the way a person handles pressure, failure, opportunity, and leadership for years. Encouragement can help a child develop confidence, resilience, and belonging, while consistent presence can create emotional security.

The absence of those experiences can also leave a lasting imprint. A child who receives constant criticism may grow into an adult who questions every decision. A child who experiences emotional distance may learn to hide feelings or avoid vulnerability. A child who feels abandoned may carry questions about worth into relationships and leadership. A child who learns that love is tied to achievement may become an adult who works constantly while still feeling that success is never enough.

This episode does not reduce fathers to heroes or villains. It explores the truth that fatherhood carries influence, and influence carries responsibility. A father may have loved his children and still lacked the emotional tools to communicate that love clearly. A father may have provided financially while remaining emotionally unavailable. A father may have done the best he knew and still created wounds that deserve acknowledgment.

Through Simba’s story, Lesley also explores how unhealed pain can influence the way people lead. Childhood experiences can quietly shape adult reactions, communication patterns, relationships, and leadership decisions. A leader carrying an unhealed rejection wound may interpret disagreement as disrespect. A leader who experienced abandonment may become overly controlling because uncertainty feels unsafe. A leader raised around harsh criticism may struggle to give feedback without becoming defensive or severe.

These patterns do not mean wounded people are incapable of leading. Every leader carries a personal history. The challenge is deciding whether that history will be examined and healed or allowed to lead without awareness.

One of the strongest messages in this episode is that the people around you should not have to pay for pain they did not create. Children should not have to carry the emotional weight of what their parents failed to receive. Teams should not have to manage a leader’s insecurity. Spouses should not have to spend years proving they did not cause an old wound.

Healing becomes part of leadership because unresolved pain has influence.

Simba’s journey also creates a meaningful conversation about running. Running does not always look like falling apart. It can look like working long hours, staying busy, helping everyone else, avoiding serious conversations, overachieving, or building a life where painful questions never receive attention. A person can appear successful and functional while remaining disconnected from a part of themselves.

Simba finds companionship, laughter, and relief, but relief does not become resolution. Eventually, he must face the truth that his past remains connected to him, his choices affect others, and his identity still carries responsibility.

That moment leads into one of the central lessons of the episode: legacy is built through presence, responsibility, and the courage to return.

Legacy is often discussed as something people leave behind, but it is also created in real time. It grows through daily conversations, consistent presence, emotional availability, listening, accountability, and the way someone responds when another person makes a mistake. It is shaped by how a father handles pressure, how a mentor listens, how a leader communicates, and whether people feel safe enough to tell the truth.

Over time, these moments become the evidence people carry. Children may remember that their father worked hard, but they will also remember whether he made time for them. They may remember what he provided, but they will also remember whether they felt known, heard, and valued. They may remember correction, and they will remember whether love remained visible during that correction.

Presence does not require perfection. It requires intention, consistency, honesty, and the willingness to repair what has been damaged. A father can apologize. A leader can admit a mistake. A mentor can acknowledge that a situation could have been handled with greater wisdom.

Accountability does not weaken authority. It builds trust.

This episode also speaks directly to those grieving on Father’s Day. Grief does not follow the calendar, and this week may bring memories that arrive unexpectedly. A song, photograph, familiar phrase, or family tradition may bring gratitude and sadness at the same time.

For those who carry a complicated relationship with their father, this episode gives permission to tell the truth without forcing the story into a neat conclusion. A person can acknowledge love and harm, honor good memories, establish boundaries, and pursue peace without pretending the past had no effect.

For those who experienced absence, rejection, or emotional neglect, the episode offers an important reminder: a father’s failure to show up does not determine a child’s value. The inability of one person to affirm you does not mean there was nothing worth affirming. Emotional absence does not define the size of your future.

The question “Why did he fail me?” may never produce an answer that feels satisfying, but healing can begin through a new question: “What do I need now, and how will I stop this pain from leading the rest of my life?”

That question does not excuse what happened. It creates room for healing, responsibility, and a different future.

One of the most powerful possibilities explored in this episode is becoming the healthy voice you once needed. A person who experienced silence can become a father who communicates. A person who experienced criticism can become a mentor who corrects without humiliating. A person who experienced absence can become an uncle, coach, teacher, pastor, leader, or community member who shows up consistently. That is how emotional patterns begin to change.

The episode is built around three leadership lessons. The first is that your voice can become part of someone else’s identity because repeated words shape emotional language and self perception. The second is that unhealed pain will eventually influence how you lead because present reactions can carry the weight of older experiences. The third is that legacy is built through presence, responsibility, and the courage to return because growth requires people to face reality, repair what they can, and show up with greater intention.

Simba carried identity, purpose, and legacy even during the season when pain disconnected him from those truths. Pain may interrupt confidence, but it does not erase purpose. A person may stop answering to the truth, but the truth does not stop being true. Your voice still matters. Your leadership still matters. Your healing still matters. Your presence still matters.

This is an emotionally honest conversation for anyone reflecting on fatherhood this week. It is for the person honoring a loving father, grieving someone important, healing from absence or disappointment, becoming a more intentional father, or leading others with the understanding that words and presence shape people.

Tune in for a powerful Father’s Day conversation about the voices that built us, the wounds that shaped us, and the legacy we have the power to create now.

Transcript

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Welcome back, Sparklers. Welcome to Mosaic Sparks with me, Leslie George. And today I want to begin with a question that may bring comfort to one person, grief to another, and a truth that someone else has avoided for years. When you hear the word father, what is the first voice you hear inside your head? And how has that voice shaped the way you see yourself, lead your life, handle failure, receive love, and walk into rooms where you are required to believe that you belong? That question reaches beyond Father's Day because the influence of a father does not begin or end with one Sunday in June. A father's presence, absence, encouragement, emotional distance, criticism, or silence can shape how a child learns to understand identity, safety, confidence, and worth. Some people hear the word father and immediately remember wisdom, laughter, discipline, and the comfort of knowing someone believed in them. Some remember a father who showed up, definitely kept his word, attended all the events, made sacrifice, and created enough security for them to take risks without feeling alone. Others hear the word father and feel the weight of absence, confusion, disappointment, or an unfinished relationship. Some people had fathers who were physically present but emotionally unavailable. Some had fathers who provided financially but didn't know how to affirm, listen, apologize, or even connect. Some are grieving a father they deeply love, while others are grieving the relationship they needed but never received. Every one of these experiences deserves honesty. This week, as we move towards Father's Day, we are using Simba's story from the Lion King to explore fatherhood, identity, leadership, and the voice that calls us back to ourselves. Simba's story is powerful because it's a story about a son who begins life with love, identity, and expectation. He experiences a devastating loss, accepts a lie about himself, disconnects from his purpose, and builds a life that allows him to avoid the pain he doesn't know how to carry. Eventually, he has to face the truth, maybe who he is, and decide whether he will continue running or return to the responsibility attached to his life. That journey speaks to more than fatherhood. It speaks to every person who has allowed pain to become louder than identity. It speaks to every leader who has carried an old wound into a new room, every father, mentor, teacher, coach, community leader whose words may become part of another person's inner voice. The first lesson is that your voice can become part of someone else's identity. The second lesson is that unhealed pain would eventually influence how you lead. The third lesson is that legacy is built through presence, responsibility, and the courage to return. These lessons are deeply connected because the voices we receive shape the voices we carry. The wounds we avoid affect the way we lead, and the legacy we create grows out of the choices we make every day. So, Sparkers, we're going to get into it. So when we first meet Simba, we meet a young lion who knows that his life is connected to something significant, even though he doesn't yet understand what the significance requires. He knows he will become king. And like many young people who are introduced to leadership, he's attracted to the visible part of the position. He sees leadership, authority, recognition, and the excitement of one day being in charge. He doesn't yet understand the patience, wisdom, sacrifice, and responsibility that leadership demands. That is a natural part of growth because many people first become interested in leadership though what they can through what they can see. They see the platform, the title, the office, the influence, and the authority. They often they often discover later that leadership is carried through private decisions, emotional maturity, consistency, accountability, and the willingness to protect people who may never fully understand what the leader had to sacrifice. Musafra's role in Simba's life is to help him understand the difference between position and responsibility. He teaches Simba that leadership is connected to something larger than personal desire. He begins shaping Simba's character before Simba is mature enough to carry the title. That is one of the positive effects of healthy fatherhood. A healthy father helps a child understand who they are while preparing them for what life will require. He doesn't only praise the child's talents, but he teaches responsibility. He doesn't only create rules, but he explains what is values, consequences, and context. And not only provides materially, he creates emotional security through presence, honesty, consistency, and care. A healthy father gives a child language for identity. When a child hears, I believe in you, those words can become courage years later. When a child hears you can learn from this, those words can shape the way they respond to failure. And also when a child hears you belong here, those words can become confidence in a room where they feel underestimated. When a child hears, I'm proud of the person you are becoming, those words can strengthen an identity that pressure has tried to weaken. The words may sound simple in the moment, but they can become emotional anchors throughout a person's life. This brings up our first lesson because every person with influence needs to understand that their words do not automatically disappear when the conversation ends. Repeated language becomes instruction, and repeated instruction can become identity. A father's words can become the language a child uses when facing difficulty. A teacher's words may become the voice a student hears when deciding whether to try again. A supervisor's words may affect how an employee views their ability, and a mentor's words may become the encouragement someone needs when fear begins to take over. This influence carries both positive and negative possibilities. A child who repeatedly hears, you're careless, may grow into an adult who questions every decision, a child who repeatedly hears, you never get anything right, may avoid opportunities because making a mistake feels connected to the personal worth. And what about a child who receives correction through humiliation may begin to associate growth with shame. A child who hears, I trust you to learn, becomes developing a healthy relationship with mistakes. A child who hears, you are capable and you will, and I will help you grow, learns that development may happen without humiliation. And also a child who hears your feelings matter and you and your behavior still has consequences learns that emotional honesty and accountability can exist together. This matters because adults are leading from voices they internalize long before they receive a title. Some leaders become controlling through uncertainty, made them feel unsafe as children. Some avoid difficult conversations because disagreement once felt like rejection. You may have some leaders that overwork because achievement became the most valuable way, reliable way to receive praise. Some even struggle to delegate because trust was repeatedly broken. Some become strong encouragers because somebody once spoke life into them during a season when they were close to giving up. The voices we carry can influence how we communicate, how we handle pressure, how we respond to failure, and how we treat the people who depend on us. And that is why self-awareness is essential in leadership. A leader must ask, what voice am I creating in the lives of people I lead? When people leave a conversation with you, do they feel clear about what needs to improve, or do they simply feel smaller? Do they feel challenged to grow or do they feel ashamed of being imperfect? Do they feel respected, heard, and capable of learning? Or do they feel that one mistake has changed how you see their value? Healthy leadership protects identity while addressing behavior. A strong leader can carry, can say this decision needs to improve without communicating you are a disappointment. A strong father can say that choice was not acceptable without teaching a child that love disappears when mistakes occur. A strong mentor can require accountability while still reminding someone that growth remains possible. This is where Musafa's voice carries much weight in Simba's story. Musafa is shaping the inner voice Simba will eventually need when life becomes difficult. His presence teaches Simba that leadership is connected to responsibility. And his words begin creating a foundation that remains even after his physical presence is gone. Then loss enters the story. Simba experiences trauma before he has the emotional ability to understand it. He loses his father. He becomes vulnerable to manipulation and accepts responsibility for something he did not fully cause or comprehend. Guilt becomes shame, and shame begins changing how he sees himself. There is an important difference between guilt and shame. Guilt says I made a mistake and I need to take responsibility. Shame says I made a mistake and I need to disappear. Guilt can lead to repair, learning, and accountability, where shame often leads to hiding, disconnection, defensiveness, and self-rejection. Simba does not simply grieve his father. He begins believing that his own existence caused the pain. He stops seeing himself as a future leader and starts seeing himself as the problem. He stops viewing home as a place where he belongs and begins viewing it as a place where he will be exposed. That shift shows how pain can interrupt identity. People often build beliefs about themselves through painful experiences, especially when they don't have the support, the language, or the safety required to process what has happened. A child who experiences abandonment may believe that people leave because they're not worth staying for. A child who received constant criticism may begin believing that love must be earned through perfection. And a child who grows up around emotional distance may begin believing that feelings are inconvenient. A child who never receives affirmation may begin believing that acknowledgement will never be enough. A child who grows up around anger, chaos, or instability may believe that may develop the belief that safety can disappear without warning, which can create hyper-vigilance, anxiety, control, or emotional withdrawal later in life. These beliefs often continue into adulthood unless they are examined and challenged. A person may overachieve because success temporarily quiets insecurity. They may avoid leadership because visibility feels dangerous, may struggle to receive love because trust feels risky, may become emotionally distant because vulnerability once created pain. May choose relationships that repeat familiar patterns because familiarity feels easier to understand than health. This is why Father's Day needs room for a full conversation. A father's impact can be deeply positive, and a father's limitation can create wounds that take years to recognize. Both realities can exist in the same relationship. A father may have loved his children and still lack the emotional tools required to communicate the love in healthy ways. A father may have provided materially and still been emotionally unavailable. A father may have done what he knew and still caused harm that deserves honest acknowledgement. Honesty does not erase love. Honesty gives place, gives healing a place to begin. Simba responds to shame by running. He leaves a location connected to pain, but he also disconnects from responsibility, relationships, and purpose. He creates distance from the past and builds a life where he doesn't have to answer difficult questions. This brings us to our second leadership lesson. Pain does not disappear because you become successful, respected, busy, or powerful. Pain that requires unexamined, pain that remains unexamined can begin making decisions in the background. Simba's new life gives him companionship, laughter, distraction, and relief from responsibility. The distance helps him avoid the pain, but avoidance does not create resolution. This is where his story becomes deeply relatable because running does not always look like. Because running, running does not always look like collapse. Running can look like working long hours, so there is never time to think. So nobody asks you how you're doing. Is from an unhealed place. And as I do that, also ponder for yourself and ask, are you leading from an unhealed place? And remember, a leader does not mean a title. You are a leader if you are a mom, a dad, an aunt, an uncle. There's several different positions where someone is looking up to you. But are you aware of where you are coming from and how you are leading? Now, some are still trying to earn praise that they never receive. Some leaders are still proving that they're not weak. Some may even avoid this disagreement because conflict once felt threatening. How about creating impossible standards because perfection felt like protection? Some struggle to trust because the person who was supposed to provide security created disappointment. And when these wounds remain unexamined, they can shape leadership behavior. A leader with an unhealed rejection wound may experience unhealthy disappointment as personal disrespect. A leader with an abandonment wound may become overly controlling because uncertainty feels dangerous. What about a leader who grew up around harsh criticism, may struggle to give feedback without becoming defensive or severe? A leader who learned to suppress emotions may create an environment where people do not feel safe expressing concern. A leader who received love mainly through achievements may unintentionally teach a team that worth is measured only through productivity. The issue is not that wounded people can't lead. Every leader has a story, history, and areas of growth. The issue is whether the wound is being acknowledged, examined, and healed, or whether it is being allowed to lead without accountability. Leadership does not require a perfect pass. Leadership requires honest self-awareness. A leader must understand what activates offensiveness, control, withdrawal, or overt reaction. And they must recognize when a current situation is receiving the emotional weight of something much older. That level of awareness protects the people you lead from pain, from pain for pain they didn't create. Your children should not have to carry the emotional weight of what your father failed to give you. Neither should your team have to manage your insecurity. What about your spouse shouldn't have to spend years proving they are not the person who hurt you? And your friends shouldn't have to decode silence you refuse to explain. Healing is part of leadership because unresolved pain has influence. Healing does not require pretending the wound never happened. Healing requires understanding how the wound has shaped your beliefs, your reaction, your relationships, and your communication style. This process may involve reflection, therapy, prayer, honest conversations, or learning new emotional skills that were never modeled. Responsibility begins when you stop pretending the wound has no effect. Simba eventually reaches a moment when the life he created to avoid pain can no longer protect him from the truth. His past still connected, is still connected to him. His home still needs him. His identity still carries responsibility, and his choices continue affecting people he left behind. The voice of his father becomes part of the return. That voice doesn't call him back to condemn him, it calls him back to remind him of who he is. This distinction matters because healthy relationship calls people higher through truth, responsibility, and identity. It doesn't require someone to feel worthless before they are willing to change. Healthy fatherhood does not use shame as permanent strategy. Healthy mentorship does not reduce people in order to establish authority. Healthy relationships help a person reconnect with their capacity, responsibility, and potential. The voice Simon needs does not tell him that the past never happened. The voice reminds him that the past does not have the authority to erase his identity. And that leads us to our last lesson. Legacy is all often discussed as something people leave behind. But legacy is also something people build in real time. It is created through daily conversations, consistence, consistent presence, and the way a father responds when a child makes a mistake. It's also shaped by how a leader handles pressure, how a mentor listens, and whether the people around you feel safe enough to tell the truth. Over time, these moments become the evidence people carry with them, which is why a legacy is built through consistency rather than emotional grand gesture. Musaf's legacy remains alive because Simba carries what he was taught. His presence, his physical presence may be gone, but the emotional and moral imprint remains. And that is what every father and leader needs to understand because people will remember what your presence taught them. They may remember that you worked hard, and they will also remember whether you made time for them. They may remember what you provided, and they will also remember whether they felt known, heard, and valued. They may remember the rules you established, and they will also remember the emotional atmosphere in which those rules were delivered. Presence does not require perfection. Presence requires intention, honesty, consistency, and willing to repair what has been damaged. A father can apologize, a leader can admit a mistake, a mentor can acknowledge that a situation could have been handled with more wisdom. A sincere apology does not weaken authority because accountability builds trust and shows that responsibility applies to everyone. Children, teams, families, and communities do not require leaders who pretend to be flawless. They need leaders who model honesty, repair, growth, and emotional responsibility. And legacy also requires the courage to return. Simba has to return to the place he avoided, face the truth, accept responsibility, and stop allowing shame to dictate the rest of his life. His return does not erase the loss, but it changes the future. And many people need that kind of return. Some need to return to a conversation they avoided, need to reconnect with a dream they abandoned, need to resume a health healing process they stopped, need to become more emotionally aware, available to their children, spouses, families, teams, andor communities. And some people need to return to themselves after years of living according to fear, shame, and other people's expectations. Returning does not require pretending that something never happened. Returning means choosing not to allow what happened to maintain permanent control over what happens next. And that is true leadership. Leadership is a willingness to face reality, accept responsibility, and make a different decision. But he can decide how he shows up today. A son or daughter may never receive the apology they deserve, but they can decide that the absence will not determine the full direction of their life. A leader may recognize that an old wound has stopped harmful habits and begin changing those habits through intentional action. A family can acknowledge painful patterns and decide that another generation will receive something healthier. Legacy changes when someone becomes brave enough to tell the truth. So this Father's Day, I want fathers and father figures to hear this clearly. Your presence matter. The words you speak, the consistency you demonstrate, and the attention you give, the questions you ask, the way you listen, the way you correct, and the way you apologize all continue, contribute to the emotional environment your children experience. Children may not receive every gift, lesson, or event exactly as it children may not remember every gift, meal, lesson, or event exactly as it happened, but they will remember whether your presence made them feel safe, valued, respected, and loved. They will remember whether your voice gave them courage or made them question their worth. They will remember whether you made room for emotion. They will remember whether correction came from guidance and whether you were willing to grow. Fatherhood carries influence and influence carries responsibility. So for those listening who had a positive father experience, honor that. Give gratitude language. Tell your father or father figure what his presence taught you. Tell him what sentence you still carry. Tell him how his example showed, shape your confidence, your character, your faith, your discipline, or understanding of responsibility. Do not assume people know the impact that they made. For the person grieving a father, make room for memory. Grief does not follow a schedule, and Father's Day may bring emotions that arrive unexpectedly. You are allowed to honor what was meaningful. You are allowed to miss him, and you are allowed to feel gratitude, sadness, love, anger, and peace within the same day. So for the person carrying a complicated father relationship, give yourself permission to tell the truth. You don't have to force pain into a beautiful story before you're ready. You can acknowledge what was good and what caused harm. You can establish boundaries. You can seek healing. You can choose peace without pretending the past did not affect you. For the person who experienced absence, hear this clearly. A father's failure to show up does not mean you are unworthy of being chosen. His inability to affirm you does not mean there was nothing worth affirming. His emotional limitations do not determine the size of your future. You may have spent years asking why someone did not give you what you needed. And that question can consume a life when no answer feels satisfying. But healing may require a new question. Instead of asking only why did he fail me, you may begin asking, why do I need, what do I need now? And how will I stop this pain from leading the rest of my life? That question moves you towards responsibility without excusing what happened. You didn't cause the wound, but you deserve the opportunity to heal from it. You deserve relationships where love is visible. You deserve support. You deserve to develop an inner voice that speaks with truth rather than repeating rejection. And you deserve to become the healthy voice you once needed. That will become one of the most powerful forms of legacy. You can become the father who listens, you can become the mentor who encourages, the leader who corrects without humiliation, the uncle who shows up consistency consistently. You can become the coach who recognizes potential in a child who feels invisible, the adult who uses influence with care because you understand what it feels like to need a healthy voice. And this is how emotional patterns change. Now, I want to bring this conversation directly into your life through a few questions. The first is, what voice am I still carrying? Identify the sentence, the tone, the silence, the lesson, the memory or belief that shaped you. It may be positive or painful. It can come from something your father repeatedly said, or it may come from something he his absence communicated. Don't judge the answer, just notice it. And then the next question is how is that voice influencing the way I lead? Does it cause you to work harder than necessary? Does it remind you that you are capable? Does it make you afraid of failure? Does it encourage responsibility? Does it make vulnerability feel dangerous? Remember, your voice carries influence. So use it intentionally. And this is where this is where the brag connects to Simber's story. The brag is about believing that you are responsible for amplifying God's greatness in you. That responsibility includes your gifts, your words, your leadership, your healing, your presence, and the way that you influence affects other others. Simba had identity, purpose, and legacy attached to his life, but pain disconnected from those truths, but pain did not erase it. The same can be true for you. You may have experienced absence, grief, disappointment, or a season that caused you to question yourself. Those experiences may have interrupted your confidence, but they did not erase your gifts. You may have stopped answering to the truth, but the truth did not stop being true. Your voice still matters, your leadership matters, your healing matters, your story still has the ability to impact. So that process does not require pretending Father's Day feel easy. It requires honesty, awareness, courage, and the willingness to become more intentional than the people who shaped you. So before I close today, I want to give you a Father's Day reflection exercise. Take a piece of paper and divide it into three sections. The first section, write down one positive voice you carry. Identify a sentence, a lesson, a memory or example that helped shape you. In the second section, write down one painful voice or belief you need to challenge. Write the sentence you've been carrying, then write a healthier truth beside it. Now, if the old voice says you're never enough, right? My value is not measured by one person's inability to see me. If the old voice says you will always fail, right? I'm allowed to learn, grow, and become more capable. And if the old voice says people always leave, right, I can build relationships without people who are safe, consistence, and presence. So maybe you want to become a voice of encouragement, accountability, calm, courage. Maybe you want people to hear your voice and remember who they are when fear makes them forget. That is legacy work. Father's Day creates an opportunity to celebrate, grieve, reflect, forgive where possible, establish boundaries where necessary, and make a conscious decision about the voice you will carry forward. Simba's story reminds us that identity can survive grief. Purpose can survive distance. Legacy can rise after healing, and legacy can call a person back to responsibility. The voice that calls you back to yourself may come through memory, reflection, a different, difficult conversation, or a quiet realization that you have been running long enough. When that voice speaks, I want you to listen. You don't have to remain disconnected from who you are. And you don't have to allow that old wound to heal every chapter. And you don't have to repeat every emotional pattern you inherited. You can become the steady voice, the present father, the thoughtful leader. You can become the mentor who sees people clearly, and you can become the person who changes what gets passed down. And that is the power of legacy. So I want to thank you for spending this time with me on Mosaic Sparks. If this episode spoke to you, I want you to share this with a father, a father figure, mentor, leader, son or daughter, or anyone navigating the complicated emotions that can come from Father's Day. Share it with someone who needs to remember that their identity is larger than the pain they experience. Share it with the leader who needs to recognize the power of their words and share it with the father who is committed to becoming more present, intentional, and emotionally available. As you move through this week, remember that every voice leaves an echo. Make sure your echo of your voice gives people the courage to remember who they are. Until next time, keep showing up, keep using your voice, keep honoring your gifts, and keep choosing the courage to unbox your brilliance. The voice that calls you back to yourself is still speaking, and you are strong enough to answer. So until next time on Mosaic Sparks with me, Leslie George. Bye for now.