No child comes with an instruction manual. But parenting a child who refuses to compromise her authenticity has taught me something unexpected: sometimes the kids become the teachers.

From Taiwan and Japan to Hawaii and states outside of Texas, we all converged for the ultimate “bro trip” (as my daughter called it), smack in the middle of the Lone Star State, where one of surfing’s best-kept secrets exists: Waco Surf — a tiny mecca of man-made waves.

We weren’t just sipping tea anymore. We were Muslims, Jews, Christians, and Agnostics swapping stories, laughing, crying, and finding unexpected common ground. Sabri guided it all like a master conductor—his baton replaced by a tea glass, of course.