Last Thursday, Adi and I packed up the car and left Galveston Island for Dallas—no real reason, no strict itinerary. Just a quiet nudge that said, Go now.

An hour into the drive, the phone rang. It was my friend and producer, Mark McGovern.
“Where are you right now?” he asked.
“Heading to Dallas,” I replied.
“You’re already on the road?”
“Indeed.”
“Perfect. Our keynote speaker just ended up in the hospital. Can you fill in tomorrow morning at nine?”

I didn’t even think about it. I didn’t ask for slides or talking points or how long I had. I just said what anyone who’s spent a lifetime practicing the art of yes would say:
“Yes. Of course.”

And just like that, the script changed.

When we arrived at the Gaylord Texan, the ballroom was a living construction of anticipation. The crew from The Producer’s Lounge moved with quiet choreography—adjusting lights, testing microphones, laying the final pieces of the stage. Screens flickered, cables curled like veins of potential energy, and the air buzzed with that unmistakable mix of nerves and purpose that precedes something meaningful. The Good Days Exchange was a mere 18 hours from commencing.  You could feel it in the room—the sense that soon, hearts would gather here not just for an event, but for something good in the truest sense of the word.

That night, as I sat quietly in the hotel room, I thought about how life always leaves clues. A gentle whisper becomes a nudge, a nudge becomes a call, and the call becomes an open door. Most of us spend our lives waiting for certainty, but certainty never shows up early—it waits for your yes.

The next morning, I walked onto that stage at nine sharp.
No notes. No teleprompter. Just trust.

At the beginning of my talk, I shared the story of how Adi and I had left Galveston a day early without knowing why—just following that whisper. I told the audience, “Sometimes the invitation doesn’t come as an email or a call. Sometimes it’s just a feeling that says, Go now.”

Later that evening, at the bar where a handful of guests gathered to unwind after the Gala, the air carried that easy calm that settles in when the work is done and the laughter comes freely. Glasses clinked, stories overlapped, and amid the soft hum of conversation, a woman approached me—her eyes bright with curiosity and something deeper—wonder, perhaps.

“Was that really true?” she asked. “Did that really happen?  You really didn't know you were going to speak?”

“Yes, that was true,” I said, smiling. “When I left Galveston, I had no idea I’d be speaking at 9 a.m. the next morning.”

She tilted her head. “Weren’t you nervous?”

I paused for a moment and said, “When God whispers, our job is to say yes. Have faith that everything is perfectly aligned—and the nerves dissipate.”

She nodded, then added with a grin, “The guy you brought up on stage to do that scene about the box—he was so good. I couldn’t tell if he was that good, or if you made him look that good.”

I laughed. “We made each other look good,” I told her. “That’s what improvisation is all about. We make each other look good.”

She smiled and said softly, “That’s exactly what the world needs right now.”

As a rewarding day came to a close, I reflected on that conversation with the woman and realized it was the real keynote.

It wasn’t about performance—it was about presence.

Not about control—but about trust.

And in that quiet recognition, The Four Agreements returned to me like a compass pointing home.

1. Be impeccable with your word.
   Saying yes means meaning it. It means showing up not just physically, but spiritually. The universe doesn’t speak English—it speaks intention.

2. Don’t take anything personally.
   When the unexpected arrives, it’s not the universe conspiring against you—it’s rearranging itself for you.

3. Don’t make assumptions.
   I could’ve assumed I wasn’t prepared or that someone else was better suited for that keynote. Instead, I assumed only this: that God doesn’t dial wrong numbers.

4. Always do your best.
   Not perfection—presence. Not performance—participation. Your best changes day to day, moment to moment. But your willingness to show up, heart open—that’s the throughline.

Life, as it turns out, isn’t a script you write ahead of time. It’s an improv show with divine direction. The story unfolds as you speak it, the magic appears as you trust it, and the applause comes from places you never expected.

Saying yes doesn’t mean you know where the road leads. It just means you trust that the next step will appear beneath your feet—and sometimes, when you do, you find yourself standing on a stage you never planned to reach, speaking to hearts you were born to touch.

And that’s the thing about yes.
It’s not just a word.
It’s a way of life.

David

For more on “Yes, And” The Four Agreements click the link below:

https://dl.bookfunnel.com/wg98fpumvp