I’m a dentist, creator, husband, builder, and lifelong student of what helps people become more whole.
My parents came to the United States from Korea with very little. My mother was a nurse who decided to pursue dentistry — an uncommon ambition made possible by a father who supported her in a way that was equally uncommon for his culture and his era. I was six years old when she entered dental school. Dentistry wasn’t simply a career I eventually chose. It was a world I grew up inside.
My father valued education, faith, respect, and doing the right thing — sometimes even at the expense of his own health and finances. He was proud when I followed in my mother’s footsteps, became a dentist, and eventually went on to teach others. The irony is that dentistry also became one of the things that pulled me away from him. School, work, distance, responsibility, and the complicated silence that can exist in first-generation families all played their part.
When my father was diagnosed with stage 4 cancer, we grew closer. But it was late. I was working in Colorado. He was in Texas. When I asked for time off to be with him, my employer at the time threatened legal action. The threat was enough to make me stay. I was at work when I got the call that he had passed away. I was devastated. I don’t know if I will ever fully forgive myself for that.
One memory from that season never left me. While my father was sick, he was treated poorly by a healthcare worker during an MRI. He was in pain, vulnerable, and dependent on someone else’s care. Instead of kindness, he received roughness and indifference. That moment marked me. It made me vow that I would never become the kind of healthcare provider who forgets the humanity of the person in front of him.
What changed me most during that season was not dentistry. It was faith. My wife found a church. In that church, I found a men’s group. And in that group, I began the slow and difficult work of forgiveness — not because everyone deserved it, but because carrying bitterness was costing me more than letting it go. The last thing my father did while still fully present in mind was get baptized. He had spent years pointing me toward faith. The gift arrived fully only after he was gone.
Today, I still practice dentistry, but my interests extend far beyond the operatory. I am fascinated by creativity, faith, travel, design, storytelling, technology, history, entrepreneurship, and the question of how people grow into the person they were capable of becoming. If we are made in the image of a Creator, then creativity is not a luxury reserved for a gifted few. It is part of what it means to be human.
I create journals, videos, tools, and reflections for people who carry responsibility but do not want to lose themselves in the process. Dentists are often the first audience because it is the world I know best, but the deeper questions are universal.
How do we become excellent without becoming cold?
How do we succeed without becoming trapped by the very thing we are good at?
How do we build a meaningful future without sacrificing the people we love to get there?
Whether I’m treating a tooth, building a business, creating something new, or helping someone navigate a difficult season of life, I keep returning to the same question: Can this still be saved? For teeth. For careers. For relationships. For callings. For parts of ourselves we thought were too far gone. I still believe the answer is often yes.