The Story Behind the Reporter: From Forgotten to Forgiven

Kolby McPherson attends Whiteville City Schools’ meeting.

The Parts People Didn’t See

People who have only known me from social media, school events, church or FFA probably think I have always been confident.

You would see the videos from “KolbyIRL,” the leadership roles, the laughter, the reporting and the moments that went viral. You would see someone constantly surrounded by people, telling stories and making memories; after all, it is my purpose. However, what many people never saw were the moments behind the screen — the moments in my quiet place where I questioned my worth, my purpose and where exactly I fit in.

For a long time, I felt forgotten and overlooked.

I was always pouring into everyone else while I was silently running empty myself. I became good at smiling through things I never fully talked about. When my parents divorced, it shifted parts of my world I did not know how to explain. Divorce changes more than a relationship — it changes the atmosphere of a home, the emotions of a child and the way you carry yourself through everyday life.

There were nights I carried frustration, confusion and hurt that nobody around me fully understood. I learned how to look okay long before I actually felt okay.

But even in those moments, God was still writing a story I couldn’t yet access.

When a Voice Becomes a Purpose

Somewhere in the middle of my struggles, I found storytelling.

What started as posting videos and sharing pieces of my life online slowly turned into something bigger than I ever expected. “KolbyIRL” became more than just content; it became a way for me to connect with people honestly. When some of my videos started going viral, I realized people are drawn to authenticity more than perfection.

People do not connect with perfect lives; they connect with real ones.

That same passion followed me into FFA. As a reporter, I spent this year telling the stories of others by highlighting achievements, recognizing hard work and making sure people felt seen. The more stories I told, the more I realized why it mattered so much to me: I knew what it felt like to wonder if anyone noticed your effort.

FFA gave me more than opportunities. It gave me confidence, and taught me that leadership is not about popularity or titles. Real leadership is serving others, even when no one applauds you for it. It is showing up consistently, and lifting others up while also learning how to pour into yourself.

Somewhere between interviews, events and blue jackets, I started to find my voice.

McPherson in Official Dress pictured with his mother, Kelly Martin.

Watching Strength Up Close

One of the most powerful moments of my life happened this year, when my mom became a registered nurse at 48 years old.

Watching her get pinned was emotional for me because I knew the sacrifices behind that moment. I watched her push through exhaustion, doubt and responsibilities that could have easily convinced her to quit. But she kept going.

That moment reminded me purpose does not expire with age, and dreams do not have deadlines.

Watching her walk across that stage felt like watching resilience in human form.

It inspired me to stop letting temporary pain define my future.

From Forgotten to Forgiven

The biggest transformation in my life didn’t happen online, at school or even through accomplishments.

It happened spiritually.

For so long, I had measured my value by whether people accepted me, noticed me or validated me. But at the altar, I realized something life changing: being forgiven means more than being recognized.

God showed me that I was never truly forgotten.

Even in the moments where I felt overlooked, broken or uncertain, He still had His hand on my life. He was still using every setback, every painful moment and every season of confusion to shape me into someone stronger.

My story is not just about struggle; it is about grace, growth and mercy. But most importantly, it is about discovering that your lowest moments do not disqualify you from your purpose.

This year, after spending so much time helping tell everyone else’s stories, I finally realized something powerful: mine matters, too.