By Drake Hunter | Commentary, Don’t Eat Toast Naked
Drake Hunter reflects on receiving Rocky Mountain Voice's Trailblazer Award during RMV Freedom Fest and why the weekend's greatest lesson came after the applause ended.
Some weeks are so full you don’t know where to begin.
This was one of those weeks.
For more than two years, I’ve had the privilege of serving alongside the incredible team at Rocky Mountain Voice. What began as writing a weekly devotional has grown into friendships, opportunities, and experiences I never could have imagined.
Over the past several months, that journey has taken me to places I never expected—including attending Turning Point USA in Phoenix with Heidi Ganahl, flying on a private jet for the first time, and helping lead one of the largest projects I’ve ever been part of: The RMV Freedom Festival.
The festival itself was remarkable.
Thousands gathered from every walk of life to celebrate Colorado’s 150th birthday and America’s upcoming 250th. There were inspiring speakers, talented musicians, volunteers who worked tirelessly behind the scenes, and countless people giving their time simply because they believed serving others still matters.
Then something happened I never saw coming.
Heidi and I were wrapping up the Trailblazers Awards on the Main Stage, recognizing some incredible men and women from across Colorado. One award remained. I stood there wondering who the final recipient would be.
Then, as Heidi began reading the introduction, little clues started falling into place.
“Wait a minute…”
My mind began racing.
“She’s talking about…”
Me.
Before I knew it, Heidi handed me the final Rocky Mountain Voice Trailblazers Award. Standing there before nearly a thousand people, I was completely caught off guard, and yes, I cried.
I didn’t see it coming—not even for a second
I was stunned.
Receiving recognition from people you appreciate, respect, and care for is always humbling. Standing there in front of so many people was an honor I’ll never forget.
Yet while everyone else saw someone receiving an award…I saw someone missing.
Sherrie.
If you’ve followed Don’t Eat Toast Naked! for any length of time, you already know why.
Every sermon I’ve preached…
Every book I’ve written…
Every podcast I’ve recorded…
Every opportunity I’ve been given…
…has Sherrie’s fingerprints all over it.
Long before anyone else believed in me…
She did.
This award may have been presented to me.
But in my heart…
It belonged to both of us, more to her than to me!
Pride…the Beautiful Kind
When I finally arrived home, I couldn’t wait to show Sherrie.
She immediately wanted to hold the award.
Her smile said everything.
Then she looked at me and quietly said something that stopped me in my tracks.
“Truth, when it’s properly directed, aligned, and moving…creates a power people love and respect.”
Then she added…
“That’s what you taught me.”
I honestly didn’t know what to say.
There are moments when words simply aren’t enough.
Here was my Number One fan—lying in bed, fighting the greatest battle of her life—encouraging me instead of needing encouragement herself.
The trophy suddenly didn’t seem nearly as valuable as the woman holding it.
Then Came the Poop
Every good story needs a plot twist. Mine involved horse stalls. When the festival ended, most people packed up and headed home. However, a few of us stayed behind.
Because of some unexpected circumstances, my dear friend John and I found ourselves, in my case, wearing flip-flops…shoveling horse poop.
Apparently, some of our cowboy friends had interpreted “Please leave the stalls cleaner than you found them” a little differently than we had hoped.
So there we stood. Award winner. Volunteer. Poop shoveler. All within twenty-four hours. And honestly…It felt exactly right.
Life has a remarkable way of grounding us. One day, you’re beneath bright lights, receiving an “Attaboy” from U.S. Secretary of Energy, Chris Write, getting hugs from Curtis Grimes, and even applause from Nick Shirley and Larry Gatlin of the Gatlin Brothers. Then, the next day, you’re standing beneath a barn roof holding a shovel, hoping not to get poop on your toes, wearing flip-flops or thongs, as they are known where I come from.
Both moments matter.
Neither defines you.
Temperament, Character, and Actions are revealed in both places.
Flowers and Giggles
Another unexpected surprise happened.
The beautiful bouquet you see in this week’s photo lineup (See below) wasn’t sent because I received an award. They were sent because the Rocky Mountain Voice family missed Sherrie.
Last year she was able to attend. This year, because of her health, she couldn’t. Heidi and the entire RMV team wanted her to know she wasn’t forgotten. That simple act of kindness spoke louder than speeches ever could.
Then I made the mistake…or perhaps the wonderful decision…of telling Sherrie the entire horse stall story.
The moment I said the word…
“Poop.”
She burst into laughter. The kind of laughter that can’t be manufactured. The kind that starts deep inside and spills out uncontrollably.
So naturally…I said it again. “Poop.”
Even more laughter.
Again. “Poop.”
At that point, I wasn’t telling a story anymore. I was simply trying to make my wife laugh.
Mission accomplished!
If you’ve spent much time around serious illness, you learn something important. Laughter may not cure disease. But it certainly nourishes the soul.
That evening, the award sat quietly on the table. The flowers filled the room with beauty. But what I’ll remember most…is the sound of Sherrie laughing like a little girl over one wonderfully silly word.
Poop.
One Final Thought
This week reminded me of three simple truths. Be grateful when recognition comes. Stay humble enough to clean the stalls when the celebration ends. And never underestimate the healing power of making someone you love laugh.
Whether you find yourself standing on a stage…or standing in a horse stall…
Serve well.
Love deeply.
Laugh often.
Those are the moments that become the stories worth telling.
“Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit. Rather, in humility value others above yourselves, not looking to your own interests but each of you to the interests of the others.”
— Philippians 2:3–4
Editor’s note: Opinions expressed in commentary pieces are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the opinions of the management of the Rocky Mountain Voice, but even so we support the constitutional right of the author to express those opinions.