Standing at the Gateway

A few weeks ago I found myself standing at what felt like multiple gateways at once. A school pilot of a framework I built from scratch. A job interview at an institution I deeply respect. An international forum in Brussels where I was invited to speak. A UN Youth Delegate application. A diplomatic service competition.

Five gateways. Open at the same time.

I will be honest. The first feeling was not triumph. It was the weight of possibility. Pressure, nerves, excitement – all held together at once.

And beneath all of it, a quiet acknowledgment I had to make to myself.

Nothing may materialise.

These doors may not all open. Some may not open at all. And I had to be willing to hold that truth at the same time as walking toward each one with everything I had.

The Night Before Brussels

The evening before I flew to Brussels I was not thinking about diplomats or roundtables or what I would say when I got there.

I was cooking for seven people. Packing a suitcase. Doing my nails. Hosting guests. Carrying everything that the week ahead required while also carrying everything the weeks before had already asked of me.

By the time the house was quiet I was exhausted in a way that went beyond the physical. I felt pressed down. The kind of weight that is not just tiredness but something that wants to tell you that you are not ready, that you do not belong, that it would be easier to stay home.

I know what that voice sounds like. And I know who sends it.

So I prayed. Not elegantly. Not with the kind of collected faith that looks good on paper. I warred. I gave up the anger I was holding toward someone who had hurt me, because I knew the enemy wanted to use it to keep me bound the night before something significant. I prayed until I found peace. And eventually, I did.

In the morning I got on the plane.

What I Found in the Room

I arrived in Brussels nervous and under-informed. I did not know exactly what was expected of me. I navigated an unfamiliar city alone, straight from the airport into the first session, bag in hand, heart quietly asking God to go before me.

Within hours I had a speaking slot.

I was introduced to the Permanent Secretary of Nigeria’s Federal Ministry of Youth Development. I connected with Microsoft’s worldwide academic research director. I sat at a roundtable with diplomats, researchers and policymakers from across Africa and Europe – the Belgian flag, the EU flag, and the South African flags behind me – and I held a microphone and spoke about things I deeply believe.

I spoke about eco-anxiety and the paralysis it is creating in a generation of European young people. I spoke about the hope that African youth carry – not a naive hope, but one rooted in community, resilience and a deeply held belief that the future is bright. I spoke about the Gratitude-Based Sustainability framework I developed through my research at University College Dublin, and about what it truly means to build equal partnerships between continents.

I did not deliver a perfect speech. I read from notes more than I would have liked. There were moments I wished I had been more free, more conversational, more present.

But I showed up. And showing up changed everything.

There was so much in that room I did not yet fully understand. But I kept asking myself – how will I ever understand if I am never in the room to learn? Young people need to be sought out. They need to be invited. And when they are, something shifts – for them and for the room.

I left Brussels knowing more than I arrived with. More clarity. More connection. More conviction that the work I am doing matters.

The Door That Did Not Open

Not every gateway led where I hoped.

I had applied for the UN Youth Delegate Programme four years in a row. This year I made it to round two. And then I was rejected.

It hurt. I will not pretend it did not. Rejection that touches your sense of worth is not something you process quickly or perform publicly before you have sat with it privately.

But I had to come back to something I know to be true. The greatest privilege and prestige I have in this life is not to represent Ireland on the UN stage. It is to represent Christ – whether that is at the United Nations or at home.

Rejection does not define who I am. It does not define my worth. It does not define my capabilities.

I am both more and less than my achievements. More, because my worth was settled before I ever accomplished anything. Less, because none of us can earn what was freely given.

So I will keep applying until I cannot anymore. Because I genuinely believe I am capable. And no matter what the outcomes are, closed doors do not change who I am.

They never did.

What Standing at the Gateway Teaches You

Even standing at the gateway is a reminder of how far I have come.

Not long ago, rooms like the ones I am now being invited into felt completely out of reach. And now I can see inside them. I can see what is ahead. And that changes everything – not because I have arrived, but because I now know the direction.

The framework I built – Gratitude-Based Sustainability – is grounded in three pillars: Reverence, Reciprocity and Responsibility. But underneath all three is a posture that I have had to learn in my own life before I could ever teach it to anyone else.

Gratitude is not conditional on outcomes.

You can be grateful for the view from where you are standing, even before you know what is on the other side of the door. You can receive the invitation as a gift without needing to know how the story ends. You can stand at the threshold – nervous, under-prepared, uncertain – and still choose to walk through.

That is what I am learning. That is what I am practising.

I will keep showing up. I will keep walking toward these doors until I traverse them – one by one, in God’s time, by His grace.

Because the gateways are evidence.

And I am grateful to see them.

Thank you for reading!

Until next time,

Elizabeth