For months, I found myself thinking deeply about a one-hour Zoom workshop I was scheduled to lead for 100 women leaders.

You would think that after 40 years of coaching executives, this kind of thing would feel easy by now.

The pressure was not coming from my client.
It was coming from me.

I wanted to offer something that would make a real difference. I did not want to deliver a pleasant hour of “good content.” I wanted the experience to matter. I wanted depth. Real value. Something meaningful enough that people would leave feeling seen, encouraged, and moved forward in some way.

But there was one problem.

How exactly do you create meaningful transformation on a one-hour Zoom call with 100 busy leaders?

I strained over it from the moment I agreed to do it.

Have you ever committed to something important and then quietly wondered whether you were truly capable of carrying it well?

As the workshop got closer, I went into overdrive. I researched. Took notes. Deleted notes. Asked trusted friends for ideas. Prayed. Opened my laptop. Closed it. Reopened it hoping the Holy Spirit and ChatGPT had collaborated while I was gone.

Fear Narrows Us

Eventually I recognized something important:

I was not stuck because I lacked ideas.

Fear had quietly taken up too much space.

Fear has a way of shrinking creativity. It narrows your vision until all you can see is the possibility of failure. You become outcome-focused instead of people-focused. Performance-focused instead of present.

Once I realized that, something began to shift.

Not instantly. Not through some giant revelation.

Little by little.

As I kept praying, reflecting, and trying to center myself not on my fear, but on what these women might genuinely need.

That became the turning point.

The workshop itself was based on my Life As Art process — the idea that life is not merely something that happens to you. It is something you can create.

Early in the session, I shared a story from my own life. Years ago, early in my coaching career, my mentor closed her business and left town. Suddenly I was on my own — and absolutely not convinced I was ready to run a coaching business by myself.

There were failures along the way. Starts and stops. I sought out new mentors and pursued advanced training with determination. There was financial stress, moments of self-doubt, and times I wanted to quit.

Little by little, I built a coaching practice that has now lasted 40 years.

That experience taught me something I still believe deeply:

Sometimes our greatest struggles become the very things that shape us into who we are becoming.

Or as I told the group:

Your Barrier Is Information

Your barriers are not your enemy. They are information.

We explored the barriers that often stop people from pursuing meaningful goals: perfectionism, overwhelm, fear, procrastination, uncertainty.

I shared that some barriers once protected us. But eventually protective patterns can become limiting ones — like an overgrown plant in too small a pot.

One example we explored was perfectionism.

The perfectionist often believes:
“I need to figure everything out before I begin.”

A healthier reframe might be:
“I can focus on the process, not just the outcome.”

We also talked about Agency — the ability to act, make wise choices, and operate from a place of personal responsibility rather than helplessness.

I shared honestly that while I had strong agency in building my business, there were seasons in my former marriage where I felt reactive, angry, helpless, and stuck. Sometimes barriers trigger old fears so deeply that we temporarily lose access to our strength and clarity.

And then something happened during the workshop that genuinely surprised me.

Permission to Pause

After some quiet reflection exercises, we placed the women into breakout groups of three with simple instructions:

No fixing.
No interrupting.
No advice-giving.

Just listen.

Each person had two minutes to share whatever they felt comfortable sharing — their goals, struggles, fears, or simply what they noticed about themselves during the reflection.

Honestly, I assumed most people would stay fairly guarded.

Instead, vulnerability filled the room.

These women showed up with remarkable honesty and courage.

When we returned to the larger group, several women immediately volunteered to share deeply personal reflections in front of everyone. Others filled the chat with honest admissions about exhaustion, fear, hope, uncertainty, and longing.

You could feel it.

Not perfection.

Not polished leadership.

Presence.

Humanity.

Relief.

Connection.

And that was the moment I realized something important:

The deepest value of the session was not simply the content I delivered.

It was the permission to pause.

To stop performing for a moment.

To reconnect with themselves.

To discover they were not alone in their struggles.

To realize their fears, barriers, and imperfections did not disqualify them from growth or leadership.

I left the session unexpectedly energized.

Hopeful, even.

Not because I had delivered the perfect workshop.

But because I witnessed something we desperately need more of right now:

Human beings telling the truth.

Listening deeply.

Encouraging one another.

And remembering that growth rarely happens in isolation.

Don’t Waste the Pause

I think this is one of the great invitations hidden inside pauses — whether it’s Memorial Day weekend, a retreat, a reflective conversation, or simply five quiet minutes before rushing into another meeting.

Don’t waste the pause.

The pause is often where clarity begins.

The pause is where fear softens enough for creativity to return.

The pause is where we remember what matters.

And sometimes, the pause is where we finally discover we are not nearly as alone as we thought.

As we closed the workshop, I encouraged the women to focus on the ONE thing they most wanted to pursue and to ask another person or two to support them over the next few months.

I do not know how many will actually do it.

But I know this:

I needed that reminder too.

And perhaps that is another beautiful truth about leadership.

Sometimes the people we hope to encourage end up encouraging us right back.

Leave a comment

After years of coaching leaders, I’ve come to believe that most people do not need more pressure, another leadership concept, or one more inspirational TED Talk.

They need space to pause.
To reflect.
To tell themselves the truth.
And to invite trusted people around them who can help reveal what they cannot see alone.

Over the years, I have watched leaders make remarkable changes—not primarily by learning how to manage others better, but by becoming more self-aware, more relationally connected, and more open to feedback, support, and growth.

Leaders Change When They Become More Self-Aware

One company president, known for her sharp and reactive communication style, began examining her own history, stress patterns, and values more honestly. In her drive for results, she unintentionally eroded the confidence of those around her. At first, she resisted the feedback, insisting people simply needed “thicker skin.” But after losing several talented employees, she began to realize the greater change required was within herself, not merely within those she criticized.

She focused on one goal: changing how she responded to her team in difficult moments.

Over time, she learned to recognize what was happening internally during stressful interactions. She became more intentional about pausing, regulating her reactions, and acting from her values rather than from adrenaline.

That one internal shift transformed the culture of her senior leadership team into the most cohesive and productive in the company’s history.

Growth Often Requires Letting Go of Control

Another founder and CEO had invested deeply for years in coaching, therapy, leadership development, and peer advisory groups. Yet one piece of feedback continued to surface from trusted peers: begin building a real succession plan.

At first, he resisted. Like many founders, he unconsciously equated succession planning with becoming less relevant. But eventually, he began to understand that succession was not about diminishing his leadership. It was about strengthening the organization beyond his individual capacity.

As he listened more carefully to the wisdom of others, he began building a stronger executive infrastructure around himself. Instead of carrying every major responsibility personally, he focused on leveraging his greatest strengths while empowering leaders whose capabilities complemented his own.

The result was transformative.

The company expanded significantly. Key leaders developed greater ownership and accountability. The organization became healthier, more scalable, and less dependent on one individual.

Ironically, by releasing control in certain areas, he increased both his effectiveness and his influence.

Fear Narrows People

Another executive, whose family background had shaped him toward defensiveness and aggression, struggled to deliver feedback without creating fear. As he developed greater emotional self-awareness, he learned to separate old patterns from present reality and intentionally practice new ways of relating to people.

Over time, the culture around him changed dramatically. People became more honest. Accountability improved. Communication became healthier. Eventually, his division began outperforming every other area of the company.

Fear narrows people.
Self-awareness expands them.

The Work Beneath the Surface

Real growth begins with the willingness to take an honest look at yourself, your relationships, your leadership, and your life.

That kind of work often involves receiving meaningful feedback, recognizing recurring patterns, clarifying values, and examining both where you have been and where you truly want to go.

Most leaders genuinely want to improve, yet many stay so focused on external demands and performance that they rarely slow down long enough to examine what may be limiting them internally.

Too often people wait for a crisis before engaging this deeper work: burnout, a painful performance review, a business setback, or a personal loss.

But meaningful growth does not require a crisis.

It requires honesty, reflection, and the courage to become more intentional about the person you are becoming.

Years ago, I created Life As Art as a resource for my coaching clients because I realized people needed more than goals and action plans. They needed a structured process for looking back, looking ahead, and understanding themselves at a deeper level.

At its core, Life As Art is built around a few simple ideas: reflection before action, emotional intelligence as practical wisdom, and the belief that small consistent steps shape meaningful lives over time.

Before You Set Another Goal

What kind of life am I actually creating?

• Am I moving with clarity or simply momentum?

• Am I building a life that reflects what matters most?

• What patterns do I need to understand before I try harder?

We do not create meaningful lives accidentally.

We create them slowly—through reflection, courage, attention, and the small daily choices that shape who we are becoming.

A New Website and an Old Truth

As part of this new season, I also recently launched a redesigned website. I’m especially grateful to Brandon, whose creative partnership and encouragement helped me shape both the new website and this updated version of Life As Art.

My hope is that both will serve as thoughtful resources for leaders and individuals who want to grow with greater intentionality, wisdom, and integrity.

I invite you to explore the new site, download the workbook, and perhaps consider one meaningful change you want to make in this next season of your life.

At the start of a coaching session recently, I asked a simple question:

“How are you doing?”

The client paused, looked at me, and said,

“Honestly… not too well.”

I smiled gently. “That sounds like a good topic for today.”

He looked exhausted—like sleep had been more of a suggestion than a reality.

“I am so behind I can’t see straight. How do people get it all done?”

He’s building a business, raising a young child, trying to be a present husband, stay healthy, nurture his spiritual life—and somehow get enough sleep to function.

He felt like he was the only one struggling.

He’s not.

The Real Problem Isn’t You

High-performing people carry a quiet assumption:

I should be able to handle all of this.

And when they can’t:

Something must be wrong with me.

But the issue isn’t your capability.

It’s your strategy.

I Learned This the Hard Way

Years ago, I was in a similar season—young child, growing business, traveling spouse, and a constant sense of being behind.

Naturally, I did what any motivated person would do:

• Read the books

• Gathered the ideas

• Tried harder

And yet, nothing really changed.

Not because the ideas were wrong.

Because I wasn’t applying them in a way that worked in real life.

The One Change That Made the Difference

Eventually, I committed to one simple practice:

I planned my week—every Monday morning at 5:00 a.m.

Uninterrupted. Non-negotiable.

Not glamorous. But surprisingly powerful.

Why It Worked

As a young mother, my mornings were spoken for the moment my daughter woke up—breakfast, getting dressed, lunches, getting out the door (always taking longer than expected).

By the time I got home, I already felt behind.

What matters most today? What even is my plan?

From there, it was all reaction:
emails, phone calls, whatever felt most urgent.

By the end of the day, I was busy—but not particularly effective.

So I tried something different.

I got up earlier than everyone else.

It gave me what I now think of as “bonus time.”

Time to think.
Time to prioritize.
Time to decide what actually mattered.

Instead of starting my week in reaction, I started it with intention.

I moved from:

• reactive → intentional

• overwhelmed → focused

• scattered → clear

And as a bonus, my daughter got a mom who was (mostly) present when she woke up.

Mostly. Let’s stay honest.

Of course, it wasn’t perfect:

• Some mornings the alarm didn’t go off

• Some mornings someone was sick

• Some mornings one of us was in an ugly mood

Because that’s life.

You adjust.

Why Most Systems Fail

When we feel overwhelmed, our instinct is to:

• do more

• fix everything

• find the “perfect” system

That usually backfires.

What works is much simpler:

Find one leverage point that creates clarity and control.

For me, it was weekly planning.

For others, I’ve seen it look like:

• Delegating responsibilities at home

• Restructuring the workweek

• Training a team to take more ownership

• Work from home one day a week

• Eliminating one unnecessary commitment

• Even something as simple (and radical) as going to the gym at lunch

Different solutions—same principle:

One thoughtful change can unlock everything else.

Plan Like a Realist, Not an Idealist

Planning isn’t about controlling your week.

It’s about preparing for reality.

Your plan is the map.
Your week is the territory.

And the territory will change.

I remember a time management trainer who insisted we always plan in pencil with a good eraser.

(For those of us who remember paper time management planners in leather portfolios, this felt very advanced.)

Why?

Because things change.

So instead of rigid perfection, aim for:

• Margin: Don’t fill every hour

• Adjustment: Revisit your plan daily

• Focus: Use time blocks as a guide, not a cage

A Note for Every Season

And for those of you in a different season of life—you may be feeling this in your own way.

This isn’t just a young parent or early-career challenge. It shows up at every stage.

For me, I still wake up early on Mondays and plan my week. It’s a simple rhythm, but it continues to ground me and create clarity for my days.

Recently, a retired executive shared—with some vulnerability—that she’s been in her new home for three years… and still hasn’t fully unpacked.

She felt embarrassed saying it out loud.

But her struggle is real.

Different season. Same dynamic.

So if you’re feeling unsatisfied with how you’re spending your time—or more accurately, how you’re managing yourself—I invite you to pause and consider:

What is one thing you could change that would make this better?

Not perfect.

Just better.

My favorite author on the topic of doing life well and stewarding your time is the late Stephen Covey. If you’ve never read The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People or Put First Things First (a full book on Habit 3), check it out.

"The key is not to prioritize what's on your schedule, but to schedule your priorities." — Stephen Covey

Final Thought

You cannot manage time.

You can only manage yourself—your focus, your energy, your choices.

And often, the breakthrough you’re looking for isn’t found in doing more—

It’s found in doing one thing differently.

Here’s to finding your one thing—and letting it change more than you expect.

Share

My mother was Kitty Siciliano.

She wore black cat-eye glasses with rhinestones and, for most of my childhood, had platinum blonde hair—set once a week at the hairdresser and sprayed into place so it wouldn’t move. At night, she wrapped it in toilet paper and wore a little cap to bed to preserve her bouffant.

This was the 60s. This was normal.

I didn’t think much of it then.
Now I smile just picturing it.

I live at the beach now, and I am forever grateful to my mother for that.

Kitty took us—my two sisters and me—to the beach almost every day in the summer. Not before we made our beds, cleaned up breakfast, packed our lunches, and helped plan dinner. Then we’d pile into the car and head to Jones Beach, to the same stretch of sand at Zach’s Bay, where her circle of friends gathered like clockwork.

She had a gift for friendship. Not just having friends—but enjoying them.

There was always laughter. Always a sense that life was meant to be lived, not just managed.

Her friends were a mix—some her age, some not. One woman, also named Kitty, stood out to me as a child. She wore gold lamé bikinis, backless shoes, and strutted past the lifeguards like she was on a runway. I was mortified.

My mother? She thought she was fabulous.

That tells you a lot about Kitty.

As a teenager, I was less charmed.

On Saturday mornings, when all I wanted was sleep, I’d hear her on the phone—loud, animated, right outside my door. It drove me crazy.

Like most daughters, I went through my season of separating… pushing… figuring out who I was apart from her.

She would say, “When you have your own daughter, you’ll understand.”

I didn’t believe her.

Of course, she was right.

The day my daughter Julia was born, I knew I was in trouble.

The composed, career-focused woman I thought I was… dissolved. I became emotional, tender, completely undone by love. It was the happiest day of my life.

Later, through marriage, I was given another gift—a “bonus” daughter, Jeaneen, a son-in-law, Cosmo and a grand-son, Connor.

And somewhere along the way, I began to understand my mother in a way I never could as a young woman.

There is something about a mother’s love that, even now, catches in my throat.

My mother died too early—at 62.
Julia never got to meet her.

That has always made me a little sad.

We spoke of her often, though. We called her “Grandma Kitty,” and I tried to bring her to life through stories.

One day, when Julia was about five, we were on an airplane. She looked out the window and said, very matter-of-factly,
“I think I just saw Grandma Kitty saying hello from heaven.”

And somehow… I think she did.

Mom, I’m sorry I gave you such a hard time when I was trying to find myself.

You died before I could fully appreciate you as an adult.

But I remember.

I remember how much you loved me—not just in the big things like those endless beach days, but in the quiet, consistent ways.

You showed me how to be a friend.
How to welcome people.
How to create a home that felt alive.

You loved your husband well. I watched you light up when my dad came home—fresh lipstick, joy in your voice, respect in your presence. That shaped me more than I realized at the time.

And I loved that you had your own life.

Wednesday night poker in the basement—with a real poker table, whiskey sours with little umbrellas, and you in a green poker visor—was legendary. You laughed. You played. You didn’t make your world small.

You were devoted to us.
But you were not defined only by us.

And that, too, was a gift.

As I’ve grown older, I’ve come to believe something we don’t say enough:

We don’t get perfect parents.
We get real ones.

And maturity—emotional, relational, even spiritual maturity—is learning to hold the whole story.

The love.
The limitations.
The things we wish had been different.

Honoring our parents doesn’t mean pretending everything was ideal.
It means choosing to see clearly… and still be grateful for what was given.

There’s something else I’ve come to understand over time.

When we lose our mothers—or when the relationship was incomplete in some way—life has a way of offering us something unexpected.

Women.

Friends.

The ones who show up in different seasons and, often without realizing it, meet us right where we need it most.

Some are mothers. Some are not.
But they carry a kind of maternal presence nonetheless.

They listen.
They tell the truth.
They celebrate us—and when necessary, they give us the gentle (or not-so-gentle) nudge to grow up, step up, or move forward.

I’ve had women and men in my life who have done all of that for me.

They have offered wisdom, perspective, laughter, and at times, a well-timed kick in the pants—something my mother would have fully appreciated.

And I am deeply grateful.

Because while no one replaces a mother…
there is something profoundly comforting in realizing that we are not left without guidance, without care, without love.

Sometimes it just comes in a different form.

To those of you reading this—your story may look different.

Some of you had mothers who loved you beautifully.
Some of you didn’t.
Most of us live somewhere in between.

But if you can, over time, do the work of understanding… of integrating… of honoring what was good without denying what was hard… something shifts.

You become freer.
And you pass something better on.

To my children,

Being your mother, step-mother and grandmother has been one of the greatest privileges of my life.

If I’ve given you anything of value, I hope it’s this:

You were deeply loved.
Not perfectly—but truly.

And I am happy to see you are building lives that are full—of love, friendship, joy, and purpose. Lives that are bigger than any one role… and grounded in what matters most.

Mom… this one’s for you.

Not because it was perfect.
But because it was ours.

We don’t get perfect parents. We get real ones.
And over time, we learn what it means to honor them—with truth, with grace, and with gratitude.

Share

The more pressure people feel to perform, the more self-focused they become—
and the less influence they actually have.

I see this pattern often in high-performing professionals.

And if I’m honest, I’ve lived it.

When Pressure Turns Inward

Under stress, even the most capable professionals drift into what I would call paranoia—not in the clinical sense, but in a leadership sense.

It sounds like this:

How am I coming across?
Why are they responding to her and not me?
What do I need to do to prove myself?

The focus narrows.
Energy turns inward.

And influence quietly slips away.

Where This Idea Came From

I heard the phrase metanoia vs. paranoia this past Sunday in a sermon by Rev. Karl Burns. He later shared that the idea traces back to Henri Nouwen, who used metanoia to describe a deep turning—a shift of mind and heart.

While rooted in theology, the idea translates powerfully into leadership:

A shift from self-focus to something larger than yourself.

You don’t have to be religious to recognize the difference.

We’ve all felt it—
the constriction of self-consciousness…
and the freedom of being fully present and contributing.

A Story I Know All Too Well

Early in my career, I was a young manager in a highly competitive non-profit environment—ironically, one dedicated to transforming lives.

We were under constant pressure to hit enrollment targets. Every day mattered.

There was a colleague at my same level.

She seemed to glide through her day. Never missed her nail appointment.
She spoke up in meetings—and people listened. She was affirmed. Respected.

Even when she missed a target, she didn’t defend or unravel. She acknowledged it—and moved on.

I, on the other hand, was working just as hard—arguably harder.
Meeting my targets. Carrying more responsibility.

But I wasn’t experienced the same way.

I felt overlooked. Corrected. Compared.

And slowly, something shifted in me—but not in a good way.

I became fixated on her.

Comparing.
Resenting.
Trying to outwork the gap.

The more I pulled on that thread, the tighter it got—like one of those Chinese Finger Traps you can’t escape.

No amount of effort fixed it.

I burned out…
and eventually left—with a bad taste in my mouth.

What I Couldn’t See Then

It’s only years later that I can see it clearly:

I had become my own worst enemy.

My attention was locked inward—
on proving, performing, protecting.

Not on contributing.
Not on the room.
Not on others.

What Changed

In my next role, I worked for a woman who helped me change.

She did something simple—and profound.

She affirmed me.
But more importantly, she redirected me.

Away from self-protection…
and toward my strengths.
Toward contribution.

Around that same time, I immersed myself in learning—books, leadership development, deeper personal work.

And I came to understand something that has stayed with me ever since:

You can only take people as far as you’ve come.

If I wanted to truly impact others, I had to do my own work.

There were no shortcuts.

Some insights came quickly.
But real change—the kind that shows up under pressure—took time.

And practice.
And humility.

The Leadership Shift

Looking back, the difference between me and the colleague I envied wasn’t talent.

It was orientation.

She was outward-focused.
Grounded. Present.

I was inward-focused.
Evaluating. Striving. Tight.

That’s the shift:

Metanoia is the move from self-focus to contribution.

In meetings, it looks like:

• Listening for what’s needed—not what proves you

• Building on others instead of competing with them

• Asking questions that move things forward

• Letting go of perfect—and choosing helpful

Small shifts.

But over time, they change everything.

Why This Matters

As Daniel Goleman has shown, when we are stressed, our ability to access empathy, perspective, and connection narrows.

You can’t be fully influential when you’re internally flooded.

That’s not weakness.

It’s human.

And it’s trainable.

A Leadership Reflection

Where does your attention go under pressure?

Do you become more:

• self-aware… or self-conscious?

• focused… or guarded?

• driven… or disconnected?

And what would it look like to make one small shift—

from proving…
to contributing?

Closing Thought

Career growth is often framed as gaining more—more skill, more visibility, more results.

But some of the most important growth happens in a quieter way.

A turning.

Again and again.

Away from self-protection…
and toward presence.
Toward contribution.
Toward something larger than your own performance.

Those moments won’t look dramatic.

But over time, they shape how others experience you—
and who you become.

And sometimes, the very struggles we wish we could avoid…

become the ones that lead us there.

“The leaders who grow are not the ones who focus on themselves the most—
but the ones who learn, over time, to move beyond themselves.”

Share

I’ve watched highly paid executive teams sit in the same room—and avoid saying the one thing that would actually make them better.

Not because they aren’t smart.
But because they’re careful. Polite. Guarded.

And underneath all of that?
Unspoken frustration.

Teams are messy.
They’re also your greatest untapped asset.

We spend enormous energy on strategy, KPIs, and growth plans.
But here’s the quieter truth:

The quality of your team’s conversations determines the quality of your results.

A Moment I Don’t Forget

Years ago, I was facilitating a retreat for a senior leadership team.

Strong personalities. Smart people. High stakes.

On the surface, everything looked solid. They were aligned on strategy, hitting numbers, saying the right things.

But as we spent more time together, I could feel it—
a kind of polite distance.

So I introduced a structured feedback exercise.

Simple. Direct. A little uncomfortable.

As they began sharing—face to face, no scripts, no hiding—the room shifted.

One leader said quietly,
“I’ve never told you this before, but when you shut down ideas quickly, I stop bringing mine.”

You could feel the air change.

No explosion.
No drama.

Just truth—finally spoken.

That conversation did more for that team than any strategy session we had that year.

What Actually Gets in the Way

It’s rarely a lack of talent.

It’s what’s not being said.

Unspoken concerns.
Carefully avoided feedback.
Assumptions that never get checked.

Over time, silence becomes expensive.

As Patrick Lencioni makes clear, teams don’t fail because they lack intelligence—they fail because they lack trust.

Without trust, people avoid conflict.
Without conflict, there’s no real commitment.
And without commitment, accountability fades.

What the Best Teams Do Differently

High-performing teams don’t avoid hard conversations.

They build the capacity to have them well.

Research on emotional intelligence from Daniel Goleman and leadership principles from Stephen Covey point to the same foundation:

Self-awareness + honest communication = trust.

And trust changes everything.

A Simple (But Not Easy) Exercise That Changes Teams

Here’s one of the most powerful exercises I use with executive teams:

Each person writes a message to every other team member:

• What I genuinely appreciate about you

• The unique contributions you bring

• What I’d like you to do more of, less of, or stop doing

No sarcasm. No vague language. No avoidance.

If there’s a deeper issue, it’s named—but handled separately and thoughtfully.

Then comes the part most teams avoid:

They sit down eyeball to eyeball, knee to knee, and deliver the message directly.

The Ground Rules Make It Work

Beforehand, we set the tone:

• Speak with truth and grace

• Be specific, not general

• Stay grounded in respect

And when receiving feedback:

• No defending

• No explaining

• No interrupting

Just:

“Thank you for sharing.”

Where the Real Shift Happens

Afterward, each person reflects:

• What themes am I hearing?

• Where am I strong?

• Where am I missing the mark?

Then they commit to one meaningful change.

Not a list.
Not intentions.

One.

Because change doesn’t happen in theory.
It happens in behavior.

Why This Works

It addresses what most teams quietly avoid:

• The gap between intention and impact

• The cost of politeness over honesty

• The human need to be both valued and challenged

When people feel seen—and told the truth—
defensiveness drops.

Clarity rises.
Respect deepens.

And performance follows.

A Final Thought

Most leaders try to improve performance by pushing harder on results.

But results are downstream.

If you want a better team, start with better conversations.

Because when people tell each other the truth—with courage and respect—
you don’t just improve communication.

You unlock the performance that was already there.

Leadership Reflection

Where might I be choosing comfort over candor with my team?

How is my leadership shaping what gets said—and what stays silent?

Do the people on my team feel both valued—and safe enough to tell me the truth?

What conversation—if handled well—could change everything?

And what would it look like to take one small step toward that conversation this week?

Most people don’t need more learning—they need more reps.

I was reminded of that in the most unexpected place… a two-day oil painting class.

At one point, my instructor shared something her students often ask:
“What does it take to go from being a beginner to becoming a professional artist?”

Her answer was simple. Almost disarmingly so.

“Paint every day. Use a small 4x6 panel. Number each painting 1–100. When you reach 100, come back and we’ll review your progress together. And by the way—stop taking workshops if you’re not putting the daily practice into action.”

Ouch. (In the best way.)

That landed squarely on me.

For three years, I’ve faithfully attended monthly art workshops. I love them. I learn a lot. I leave inspired.

And then… I don’t paint.

Not because I don’t have time.

But because it feels uncomfortable.

I feel a little lost.
I don’t want to confront my own ineptness.

The blank canvas.
The messy paints.
The clean-up.

And especially that moment…
when what I create looks nothing like what I imagined.

It’s disappointing.

Seeing how child-like my efforts look.

Like this church spire that somehow turned into a cartoon top hat.

Painting at this level feels… exposing.

And I’d rather stay in the safety of learning than risk being bad.

Where in your life are you playing it safe to avoid looking bad?

So now, I’m on a mission: 100 paintings.

Not masterpieces.
Not frameable.
Not Instagram-worthy.

Just… paint.

Every day.

I’m letting go of “Is it good?” and replacing it with “Did I show up?”

What Actually Changed

Once I committed, I realized something important:

Motivation is overrated. Environment matters more.

So I made a few simple changes:

• I stopped worrying about the mess

• I pulled my supplies out where I could see them

• I made it easy to begin

And one constraint changed everything:

Forty minutes.

That’s it.

Forty minutes gets me started.
Forty minutes keeps me consistent.

And consistency, it turns out, is where the path to mastery lives.

The Leadership Lesson

I see this all the time with my clients.

Brilliant, capable leaders—
reading, learning, attending workshops…

And still feeling stuck in some significant part of their life or work.

Not because they aren’t trying.

But because they haven’t turned insight into practice.

And more importantly…

They haven’t been honest about why they’re avoiding the practice.

So let me ask you:

Where are you “taking workshops”… but not painting?

Where are you avoiding the reps?

Maybe it’s asking your team for real feedback.

You want your meetings to be more engaging, more effective.
You’ve read the books. You’ve hired the coach.

But to improve, you’d have to ask:

“What’s not working?”

And then… listen.

You might hear:

• “You talk too much.”

• “You don’t really listen.”

• “These meetings feel repetitive.”

That could sting.

So instead… you stay where you are.

Your Version of the Challenge

Pick one area where you are stuck - this is not just for corporate leaders - maybe it’s around your health or your spiritual life. Maybe you are seeing a counselor but not taking significant action on a key issue that’s holding you back.

One area,

Not five. Not someday.

One.

Make it small.
Make it daily.
Make it just uncomfortable enough that you might avoid it.

And then… do it anyway.

Because here’s what I’m learning:

You don’t become who you want to be by thinking about it.
Or reading about it.
Or even understanding it.

You become that person… by practicing.

The life you want isn’t built in grand gestures—it’s painted, one small stroke at a time.

A Longer View

My daughter Julia recently sent me a quote she saw next to a Matisse drawing.

After fifty years of work, he wrote:

“For a year now I’ve been making an enormous effort in drawing. I say effort but that’s a mistake, because what occurred is a floraison (flowering) after fifty years of effort.”

A flowering.

Not instant. Not dramatic.
But something that emerges… after years of showing up.

A Gentle Challenge

Pick your “painting.”

Make it small.
Make it daily.
Make it uncomfortable.

And begin.

You don’t need more information.
You need a canvas.

A year from now, you won’t wish you had learned more.
You’ll wish you had started sooner.

If this hits close to home, you’re exactly who I write for. Join me for practical, honest insights on growth, leadership, and the inner work that actually creates change.

I read something recently that stopped me in my tracks.

A man serving time in prison described how he rebuilt his life from the inside out.
Not when he got out.
While he was still inside.

He became a better husband.
A better man.
A different person.

“A person with a growth mindset sees failure not as evidence of unintelligence but as a starting point for learning and inspiration.”
— Carol Dweck, author of Mindset

It struck me:

Some people wait for life to change…
and others let life change them.

A Better Question Than “What Age Am I?”

I’ve always liked birthdays.

Maybe because I was the youngest in my family and couldn’t wait to grow up.
Now, as a proud, Social Security–card-carrying boomer, I find myself asking a different question:

What if aging isn’t decline… but development?

Not a slow fade.
But a long apprenticeship in becoming.

Anaïs Nin captured it beautifully:

“And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud
was more painful than the risk it took to blossom.”

Every decade invites us to open further—if we’re willing.

The Shift Most People Miss

We’ve been taught to think of adulthood like a checklist:

Be responsible.
Be productive.
Keep it together.

But what if adulthood is actually:

An ongoing process of becoming.

Becoming more:

• self-aware

• grounded

• wise

• generous

• free

Over time—if we let it—life softens our reactivity, deepens our perspective, and expands our capacity to love.

But it doesn’t happen automatically.

Growth is available. Not inevitable.

You Are Participating—Whether You Realize It or Not

We are not just living our lives.
We are forming a self.

Every reaction.
Every disappointment.
Every success.
Every quiet decision no one else sees.

It’s all shaping someone.

The real question is:

Are you becoming someone you actually want to be?

When Life Broke Open—And I Chose to Grow

I learned this lesson the hard way.

I had just turned 50 and was going through a divorce after 17 years of marriage.

We had both tried—hard—to make it work.
But it was over. And we were both heartbroken.

With the help of our pastor, we navigated a respectful separation. We divided assets fairly, shared custody of our 15-year-old daughter, and did our best to protect what mattered most.

Still… it was painful.
Especially for her.

And for me, beneath the calm exterior I presented to the world, I felt anything but steady.

I was running a coaching business—guiding other leaders—while privately feeling raw, exposed, and unsure of my own future.

That was the moment I came face-to-face with a powerful truth:

Agency.

The ability to say:

I may not control what has happened to me…
but I will choose my response.

Stephen Covey helped bring this idea into the mainstream: the difference between living reactively and living proactively—between being shaped by life or shaping it. He said:

“Response-ability” is the ability to choose your response. Highly proactive people don’t blame circumstances, conditions, or conditioning for their behavior. Instead, they choose their actions consciously, guided by their values rather than driven by their feelings.

What Agency Actually Looks Like

It didn’t look impressive.

It looked like showing up.

• I found a counselor

• I joined a divorce recovery group

• I chose not to date

• I committed to healing—even when it hurt

Then I joined a weekly group studying the work of Townsend and Cloud.
Every Monday night. For three years.

Not because I was disciplined—
but because I was desperate.

I began to understand my patterns.

I realized, in the words of Henry Cloud, “my picker was broken.”

Growing up feeling rejected by my father, I had spent years choosing relationships that repeated that wound.

That realization was painful.
And freeing.

Because if I could see it—
I could begin to change it.

Carlos Castaneda said it plainly:

“We can make ourselves miserable or we can make ourselves strong.
The amount of work is the same.”

The Work No One Sees

Those years were quiet.
Messy.
Often lonely.

I felt shame.
I worried about my future.
I questioned whether I would ever feel “normal” again.

But I stayed with it.

I went to several different healing workshops that helped me grow emotionally and spiritually.
I journaled.
I prayed in the early morning hours—honest, unfiltered prayers.

Sometimes asking for healing.
Sometimes asking for strength.
And sometimes surrendering the very thing I wanted most.

“If not this… then change me.”

That may have been the most important prayer I ever prayed.

Because it shifted me from waiting for life to give me something…
to allowing life to transform me into someone.

Elizabeth Kübler-Ross reminds us:

“Learn to get in touch with the silence within yourself
and know that everything in this life has a purpose.”

What Changed

Not overnight.

But gradually… steadily… deeply…

• My anxiety softened

• My emotional stability returned

• My sense of self became clearer and stronger

I was no longer just hoping for a better future.

I was becoming a different person.

A New Chapter—But Not the Point

Three years later, after real healing and growth, I felt ready.

I met my husband, Rod, in a thoughtful, intentional way.
We built our relationship slowly.
We married ten months later.

We’ve now been happily married for over 20 years.

But here’s what I want to be clear about:

The real transformation didn’t happen when I met him.

It happened in the years before.

Note to my readers:
I have walked alongside many courageous individuals who did the hard, humble work—seeking counsel, leaning into support, and praying with perseverance—and I have seen marriages beautifully restored. I want to be clear: divorce is not the only path. In fact, a redeemed and renewed marriage often carries a depth of joy, intimacy, and meaning that is profoundly worth fighting for.

Why This Matters

Because it would be easy to tell that story as:

“Everything worked out in the end.”

But that’s not the point.

The point is this:

I didn’t wait for my life to change.
I chose to engage with it.

To heal.
To grow.
To take responsibility for my patterns.
To become someone different.

That is agency.

And it is available to every one of us.

The Myth of “It’s Too Late”

I work with leaders in their 40s, 50s, 60s, and beyond.

Here’s what I see:

• The 45-year-old asking, “Is this all there is?”

• The 55-year-old who has achieved everything—and feels restless

• The 63-year-old quietly wondering what’s next

• The 70-year-old finally accessing creativity they never allowed

Different ages. Same invitation.

Grow… or coast.

And coasting has a cost.

What If This Season Is the Assignment?

We resist the very things that could transform us:

• The plateau

• The disappointment

• The loss

• The unanswered question

But what if these are not interruptions?

What if they are the curriculum?

You don’t need a new life to become a new person.

Don’t just think about this—act on it.

Choose one area of your life right now where you’ve been waiting, avoiding, or hoping things will change on their own.

And instead, ask:

• What is one honest truth I’ve been ignoring?

• What is one step I know I need to take?

• Who could help me move forward?

Then take action—today.

Not perfectly.
Not dramatically.

Just deliberately.

Because the life you want isn’t built in big moments.

It’s shaped in the small, courageous decisions you make next.

If you’re at a transition point and want support thinking this through, this is exactly the kind of work I do with leaders every day.

Share

Final Thought

We don’t control all of our circumstances.

But we do participate in who we become inside them.

And that changes everything.

You may not get a new life—
but you can become a new person inside the one you already have.

The day before Thanksgiving, 1990, I signed the lease for my very first office.

It felt bold. Courageous. Like a real step forward.

That same day, one of my best clients called to cancel.
His business was struggling—and just like that, so was mine.

Suddenly, I no longer had a full book of clients…
and I was facing a lease I wasn’t sure I could pay.

At home, the pressure wasn’t any lighter. My husband was in real estate during an uncertain market, and between a new mortgage and my new office, fear started creeping in.

“In a very real sense we have two minds, one that thinks and one that feels.”
— Daniel Goleman

That night, after everyone had gone to bed, I sat alone in the quiet.

And if I’m honest—I wasn’t steady.

My mind was racing.
My confidence felt thin.
The future looked uncertain in a way I couldn’t quickly fix.

I remember thinking, I may have made a mistake I can’t undo.

There was no plan that made everything okay.
No immediate solution.

Just… the reality of where things stood.

And yet, in that space—without anything changing on the outside—something inside me began to settle.

Not all at once.
Not dramatically.

But enough.

Enough to take a breath.
Enough to stop trying to solve everything at once.
Enough to believe I could take the next step… even without knowing the outcome.

That was the beginning of hope.

Looking back, that night didn’t resolve my situation.
But it began forming something in me I didn’t yet have the language for—

the capacity to stay present, even when I couldn’t see the way forward.

The most compelling leaders I’ve had the privilege of knowing don’t sound like:
“I figured it out.”

They sound like:
“I went through something real—and here’s what changed in me.”

Every leader faces moments where:

• the numbers don’t add up

• the people aren’t cooperating

• the future feels uncertain

But not all leaders respond the same way.

Some shut down.
Some grasp for control.
Some quietly disengage.

“When we are no longer able to change a situation, we are challenged to change ourselves.”
— Viktor Frankl

Others—stay steady.

Not because it’s easy.

But because, over time, they’ve developed the kind of character that can hold hope under pressure.

They can:

• Stay connected instead of isolating

• Face reality without collapsing into fear

• Take responsibility without self-condemnation

• Keep showing up, even when outcomes are unclear

That’s not talent.

That’s formation.

The Pitfalls When Hope Is Lost

After decades of coaching leaders, I’ve seen this pattern again and again:

Stress narrows your field of vision.

It’s a natural response to loss, uncertainty, and unmet expectations.
But when stress is high and hope is low, your perspective shrinks.

You stop seeing clearly.

You’re no longer taking in the full picture.
You miss creative solutions—
and even new possibilities that may already be available to you.

In those moments, two things become clear:

• What you’re made of

• What you’re hoping in

I’m reminded of a simple but profound line from Alcoholics Anonymous:

“Your mind is a dangerous place—don’t go in there alone.”

A Framework That Helps

One of the ways I help leaders understand their current capacity is through the TPRAT (Townsend Personal and Relational Assessment Tool), which identifies four core areas of character:

• Attachment – staying connected to God and others under stress

• Separation – holding boundaries and clarity of responsibility

• Integration – tolerating pain, disappointment, and complexity

• Adulthood – acting with ownership, purpose, and courage

These capacities matter—not because they make you impressive—

But because they make you resilient enough to sustain hope.

If you can’t stay connected, hope fades.
If you can’t tolerate difficulty, hope collapses.
If you can’t take action, hope stalls.

Character is what holds hope in place.

The Invitation

That night years ago, nothing in my circumstances changed immediately.

The lease was still there.
The client was still gone.

But something in me shifted.

I stopped trying to carry the future alone.

And that changed how I showed up the next day…
and the next…
and the next.

That’s what hope does.

It doesn’t remove the weight.

It gives you the strength—and the reason—to keep carrying it.

A Faith Perspective: The Ultimate Picture of Character and Hope

As we enter Holy Week, we see the clearest picture of this truth.

Jesus faced:

• Betrayal

• Loss of control

• Injustice

• Suffering beyond comprehension

And yet—

He did not withdraw.
He did not panic.
He did not abandon His purpose.

He stayed connected.
He stayed surrendered.
He stayed faithful.

That is hope.

Not the absence of pain—
but the presence of something deeper than it.

A certainty that what God is doing is greater than what we can see.

“The theme of hope is always about the future. That’s where you want to sow your seeds.”
— John Townsend

Where Is Your Hope Right Now?

If you’re honest, where does your hope come from today?

• A result working out?

• A person not disappointing you?

• Your own ability to figure things out?

Or something more solid?

Because leadership will eventually strip away anything fragile.

And what remains—

is what you’re truly anchored in.

A Simple Reflection for This Week

• Where is pressure revealing something about my character?

• When things feel uncertain, where do I turn first?

• Am I trying to carry this alone?

Closing Thought

Most leaders focus on outcomes.
The best ones build the inner capacity to endure uncertainty—and lead through it.

— Elaine Morris

Share

Most executives don’t fail because they lack goals—they fail because they try to achieve them alone.

By now, your highest priority goals thoughtfully created at your corporate retreat are either quietly working… or quietly fading.

And your personal resolutions? (schedule boundaries, time working out, quiet time to plan…)

Spring has a way of telling the truth.

The early motivation is gone.
The calendar is full again.
And the gap between what we intended—and how we’re actually leading—becomes harder to ignore.

This is why the most effective executives don’t push harder this time of year.

They reset.

Not with more pressure—but with more clarity, sharper focus, and the right support.

A Personal Turning Point

Early in my coaching career, I faced a moment that shaped everything that followed.

I had spent two years working under a highly respected leadership coach—someone I admired deeply. She opened doors for me and helped me begin working with executive clients.

Then one day, she told me she was closing her practice and moving out of state.

Just like that, I was on my own.

I remember thinking:
I’m not ready.
Who am I to do this alone?

But there was no perfect moment coming.

I had to decide:
Would I step forward—or stay dependent?

That season required me to do what I now help executives do every day:

• Clarify what truly mattered

• Face uncertainty without avoidance

• Build the structure and support needed to move forward

It wasn’t about gaining confidence first.

It was about taking the next step—with the right support in place.

Looking back, I can say this with certainty:
I would not have succeeded without the wise and trusted coaches in my own life.

That’s the power of coaching.

Coaching: From Intention to Execution

Executives don’t come to coaching for inspiration.

They come for results.

A strong coach helps you:

• Cut through competing priorities

• Align your goals with how you actually lead

• Translate vision into disciplined execution

• Stay accountable under pressure

And most importantly—coaching addresses the whole leader.

Because leadership performance is never isolated from your energy, your relationships, or your clarity of mind.

Case Study: Better Leadership, Better Life

One executive I coached came in with a clear business objective:

Build a more accountable, self-sufficient team.

But beneath that was a deeper need:

Work less, lead at a higher level, and be more present at home.

Through coaching, she:

• Shifted from doing to developing her team

• Delegated with clarity and confidence

• Elevated her focus to strategic leadership

The result:

• Stronger ownership across her team

• Increased trust and accountability

• More time and energy for her family

• Recognition from her CEO for her strategic impact

One focused shift—executed well—transformed both her leadership and her life.

Case Study: Performance Through White Space

Another executive came in successful—but depleted.

His goal was deceptively simple:

Create white space for thinking, health, and renewal.

He:

• Restructured his calendar

• Set clearer boundaries

• Prioritized recovery and reflection

As Peter Drucker said:

“Follow effective action with quiet reflection. From the quiet reflection will come even more effective action.”

What changed wasn’t just his schedule—it was his leadership.

He became:

• More creative

• Less reactive

• More engaging and present

And his team responded.

Because when a leader changes how they show up, everything around them shifts.

The Hidden Lever: Feedback

One of the most powerful accelerators in executive coaching is 360-degree feedback.

One leader I worked with had made meaningful progress:

• More self-aware

• Less reactive

• A stronger listener

His team affirmed the change.

But they also said:
“We can’t always tell what you’re thinking.”

In trying to be less reactive, he had become less clear.

As Edgar Schein reminds us:

“The only thing of real importance that leaders do is to create and manage culture.”

Clarity matters.

That single insight allowed him to adjust—maintaining empathy while increasing transparency.

Not more change.
Better change.

Why Coaching Works at the Executive Level

At senior levels, the challenge isn’t effort.

It’s perspective.

You don’t need more information.
You need:

• Clearer insight

• Honest feedback

• Focused priorities

• Consistent accountability

As Eric Schmidt said:

“The best advice I ever got was to get a coach.”

Coaching gives you the space to think, refine, and execute at a higher level.

A Smarter Spring Reset

Instead of adding more goals, refine what matters most:

1. Leadership Impact
Where do you need to grow to lead more effectively?

2. Personal Sustainability
What ensures you have the energy to lead well?

3. Integration
What one change could improve both your work and your life?

And then ask the question most leaders avoid:

Who will help you follow through?

Final Thought

The most successful executives I know don’t rely on willpower.

They build support around their goals.

Because transformation doesn’t happen in isolation.

It happens in partnership.

🎨 Leadership Reflection: Life As Art

Spring invites you to step back—and look at the canvas of your life.

Not your intentions.
Not your plans.
But what you are actually creating.

Because whether you realize it or not…

You are always creating something.

Pause and reflect:

• What is the tone of my life right now—hurried, purposeful, fragmented, aligned?

• Where am I overdeveloped—and where am I neglected?

• What patterns are shaping my leadership without intention?

• Where do I need perspective I don’t currently have?

Now re-choose your design:

• Who do I want to become in this next season?

• What would a more integrated life look like?

• What one shift would elevate both my leadership and my life?

And most importantly:

Who is helping me create it?

🔹 A Simple Practice

Choose one element of your life canvas to refine this spring.

Not five. Just one.

Then decide:

• What needs to change

• What support you will put in place

• The first step you will take this week

Because your life is not a finished product.

It is a work of art in progress.

And great leaders don’t leave that to chance.

Share

Why do people follow some leaders…
while others struggle to inspire even the most capable teams?

It’s rarely just strategy, authority, or intelligence.

Two thousand five hundred years ago, a government official named Nehemiah demonstrated a leadership style so effective that under impossible conditions, people followed him.

And the way he did it looks surprisingly modern.

As I studied the book of Nehemiah this week, I couldn’t help noticing how modern his leadership feels.

His story is more than ancient history. It reads like a masterclass in leadership — the kind of qualities we celebrate today in the best leadership books and executive coaching programs.

Nehemiah wasn’t a general.
He wasn’t a king.
He wasn’t even a religious leader.

He was a government official — the king’s cupbearer — living a comfortable life in the Persian court.

Yet somehow he inspired an exhausted, discouraged people to rebuild an entire city wall in just 52 days.

How did he do it?

Five leadership qualities stand out.

Strength With a Tender Heart

My former pastor, Chuck Swindoll, once called Nehemiah the “John Wayne of biblical characters.”

Strong. Courageous. Decisive.

But what struck me most was something else.

His emotional awareness.

When Nehemiah learned that Jerusalem was still in ruins — its walls broken, its people vulnerable and ashamed — he didn’t immediately jump into action.

He wept.

Scripture says he mourned, fasted, and prayed for days.

He allowed himself to feel the grief.

That kind of emotional honesty is something modern leadership research increasingly affirms: the best leaders are not numb to suffering — they are moved by it.

And if we’re honest, many of us feel this tension.

Sometimes the suffering in the world overwhelms us.

Wars. Disasters. Violence. Injustice.

Other times we feel guilty because we are living comfortable lives while so many others are struggling.

Nehemiah models something powerful here.

He didn’t numb out.
He didn’t rush past the pain.

He let his heart break for what breaks God’s heart.

And from that place of compassion, his leadership began.

If your emotional abilities aren’t in hand… your intellect isn’t going to get you very far. - Daniel Goleman

The Courage to Risk Comfort

Nehemiah served one of the most powerful kings in the world.

Cupbearers were trusted officials — but they were also easily replaceable.

When the king noticed Nehemiah looked sad, it was dangerous territory.

In that culture, appearing unhappy before the king could be seen as disloyalty. Punishable.

Yet Nehemiah told the truth.

He admitted he was troubled.

And then he did something even more courageous.

He asked the king for permission to leave his prestigious position and travel to Jerusalem to help rebuild the city.

Imagine the risk.

His career.
His reputation.
Possibly even his life.

Leadership often begins exactly here — the moment when someone decides that comfort is no longer more important than purpose.

Clarity Before Action

For four months Nehemiah prayed and reflected before speaking to the king.

He wasn’t passive during that time.

He was preparing.

When the king asked how long he would be gone, Nehemiah already knew.

When the king asked what he needed, Nehemiah had a list.

Travel papers.
Building materials.
Safe passage.

He had done the thinking.

There is a leadership principle I often share with executives:

Velocity is a function of clarity.

In my work with senior leaders, I see how difficult this step can be. Leaders assume others understand the vision because it feels obvious to them. But clarity and inspiration rarely happen by accident. Nehemiah shows us that enrolling people into a mission requires thoughtful communication.

Once Nehemiah arrived in Jerusalem, he didn’t immediately announce a plan.

Instead, he quietly surveyed the damage at night.

He looked for himself.

Great leaders resist the temptation to lead from assumptions.
They seek firsthand understanding before launching strategy.

There is nothing so useless as doing efficiently that which should not be done at all. - Peter Drucker

Inspiring Others Into the Mission

Once Nehemiah understood the challenge, he gathered the leaders, priests, officials, and citizens.

Notice what he did.

He didn’t simply assign work.

He told a story.

He explained the challenge they faced, why it mattered, and how rebuilding the wall would restore dignity and security to the entire community.

Then something remarkable happened.

The people responded:

“Let us rise up and build.”

That moment — when people move from passive observers to committed participants — is one of the most powerful moments in leadership.

People rarely commit to a task. They commit to a meaningful mission.

Nehemiah then did something equally important.

He organized the work carefully.

Families rebuilt sections of wall near their homes.
Groups worked together.
Everyone had a role.

Vision without execution fails.

Many great visions fail not because the idea was weak, but because the execution was never clearly planned.

But execution without shared ownership fails too.

Nehemiah created both.

Drawing Strength From Beyond Yourself

What fascinates me most about Nehemiah is that he never acted as if the outcome depended solely on him.

He planned carefully.
He acted courageously.
He organized people strategically.

But again and again he returned to prayer.

Even in the middle of conflict and opposition, Nehemiah pauses to pray.

He knew something every leader eventually learns:

Human strength alone eventually runs out.

Whether someone approaches leadership through faith or through deeper reflection on purpose and values, the principle still holds.

The most enduring leaders draw from a source larger than themselves.

For Nehemiah, that source was God.

Questions for Your Own Leadership

Nehemiah’s story invites us to ask some uncomfortable and important questions:

• Where do my strength and emotional awareness intersect?
• Am I willing to step beyond comfort when something truly matters?
• Do I pause long enough to gain clarity before acting?
• Can I communicate a vision in a way that inspires people to join in?
• Do I rely solely on my own effort — or draw strength from deeper purpose, community, or faith?

A Few Questions Worth Considering

For those of us who approach leadership through faith, Nehemiah raises another question:

What burden has God placed on your heart?

Broken systems.
Discouraged people.
Communities in need of restoration.

The invitation of leadership is rarely convenient.

But when we respond with courage, humility, and reliance on God, something remarkable happens.

What once seemed impossible begins to take shape —
stone by stone,
person by person,
wall by wall.

Share

✨ One closing thought

As I reflect on Nehemiah’s story, I’m reminded that leadership doesn’t always begin with a brilliant strategy. Often it begins when something touches our heart deeply enough that we can no longer ignore it. I find myself asking: Where is the wall in my own world that needs rebuilding—and what small step might I be called to take?

If this post resonated with you, I invite you to become a paid subscriber. Your support allows me to keep writing about leadership, faith, emotional intelligence, and the inner work that shapes how we live and lead. I’m grateful for this thoughtful community of readers.

I’d love to hear from you: What “wall” in your world might be waiting for someone to help rebuild it?

The Inside Stuff

For leaders who want to cultivate meaning and satisfaction in work, love and life.

By Elaine Morris

I’m an Enneagram 7, which means restlessness is practically a spiritual gift.

I finish one project and immediately start thinking about the next adventure—another gathering, another idea, another improvement I should make to my life.

For years I assumed this meant something was wrong with me.

Now I’m beginning to suspect it might actually be how God gets my attention.

What are you restless about right now?

Not unhappy.
Not failing.

Just that quiet feeling that something in your life is ready for more.

Many of the most important shifts in our lives begin exactly there.

Restlessness.

The Apple Tree Problem

Imagine your life is like an apple tree.

You notice the apples could be better—larger, juicier, brighter red. So you focus all your effort on improving the fruit.

You strategize.
Push harder.
Try new techniques.

Sometimes it works. Sometimes it doesn’t.

Eventually we grow frustrated and start shouting at the tree:

Grow faster. Produce more. Be better.

Sound familiar?

Many leaders spend enormous energy trying to improve the fruit of their lives—performance, success, influence, results—while ignoring the roots and the soil.

But fruit cannot be forced.

It grows naturally from healthy roots in good soil.

Jesus’ Quiet Lesson About Growth

Jesus told a short parable that speaks directly to this.

In Luke 13, a vineyard owner complains that a fig tree hasn’t produced fruit for three years and suggests cutting it down.

But the gardener replies:

“Let’s give it another year. I’ll dig around it and fertilize, and maybe it will produce next year; if it doesn’t, then chop it down.” (Luke 13:8)

Notice what the gardener does.

He doesn’t shame the tree.
He cultivates it.

He loosens the soil.
He nourishes the roots.
He gives it time.

Real fruitfulness rarely comes from pressure.

It comes from cultivation.

What Actually Changes Us

Psychologists Dr. John Townsend and Dr. Henry Cloud discovered something remarkably similar in decades of clinical work with people facing addiction, depression, and trauma.

Lasting change didn’t happen by focusing only on behavior to impact results—the fruit.

Transformation happened when the roots of a person’s life were strengthened.

Townsend often describes three nutrients that help those roots grow:

Grace
We experience change when we are deeply known and still loved—by God and by safe people.

Truth
Wise friends, mentors, coaches and sacred time with God helps us see what we cannot see ourselves.

Time
Real transformation rarely happens quickly. God seems remarkably patient with human growth.

Truth without grace crushes us.
Grace without truth leaves us stuck.

But grace, truth, and time together create the soil where change grows.

Thriving While the Fruit Is Still Growing

Here’s the surprising part.

Thriving doesn’t begin after everything in our lives is fixed.

It can begin while the fruit is still growing.

When we cultivate our roots and nourish the soil—through grace, truth, and time—our relationships deepen, our leadership matures, and our faith becomes steadier.

The fruit comes eventually.

But peace can come sooner.

Frederick Buechner wrote:

“The God of biblical faith meets us at those moments when we are most human, most ourselves.”

And long before him, St. Augustine observed:

“Our hearts are restless until they rest in You.”

So What Can You Do About Restlessness?

Instead of trying to fix it, try listening to it.

Ask yourself:

Where might God be tending the soil of my life right now?

Is it an invitation to:

• receive more grace
• hear some truth you’ve been avoiding
• or allow time to do its quiet work?

It took me years to realize that what I called ambition might actually be something deeper. I’m still learning this myself. My natural wiring pushes me toward the next idea, the next project, the next experience. But I’m slowly discovering that thriving doesn’t come from chasing better fruit. It comes from tending the roots—trusting God’s grace, listening to truth, and allowing time to do its quiet work. And the surprising gift is this: even while the fruit is still growing, life can already feel full.

Blaise Pascal, a 17th century French mathematician and philosopher said,

“There is a God-shaped vacuum in the heart of each man, which cannot be satisfied by any created thing but only God the Creator, made known through Jesus Christ.”

After Christmas, I felt… off.

Not dramatically sad.
Not clinically depressed.
Just vaguely down. Listless. Unmotivated.

Have you ever asked yourself, “Am I depressed… or just tired… or just human?”

The house was suddenly quiet after a wonderful holiday. The sky was gray. It was too cold to walk the beach. I’m aging — which, let’s be honest, is its own ongoing negotiation with reality.

Then another thought surfaced: I had fewer coaching clients starting the year than in previous seasons.

Cue the executive brain:
Is my career winding down? Is this decline? Is this relevance fading?

Now, for context — I’ve intentionally reduced my workload since moving to the beach. That part was strategic. But this felt different.

After some honest reflection, I realized what was happening:

I was experiencing a loss.

And until I named it, it owned me.

The Losses We Don’t Call “Loss”

When we think of grief, we think of death, divorce, tragedy.

But leaders experience micro-losses constantly:

• You’re passed over for a promotion

• A prospective client you expected to close ghosts you

• A health diagnosis forces new limitations

• A milestone birthday shifts your identity

• A conflict at work remains unresolved

• A performance review stings

• A goal fails

• A speech flops

• A habit still has more power over you than you’d like

None of these show up in obituaries.
But they register in your nervous system.

And if you don’t metabolize them, they linger.

What Many of Us Were Taught

Consider how your family handled loss. Chances are you were subtly trained to:

• Don’t dwell.

• Be strong.

• Think positive.

• Others have it worse.

• Crying is for sissies.

• Quit feeling sorry for yourself.

• Shake it off.

Faith was sometimes interpreted as emotional suppression.

Strength was often confused with stoicism.

But avoidance isn’t resilience.

It’s delayed processing.

What Grief Actually Is

Grief is the emotional, psychological, and even neurological response to loss.

In the Townsend Institute’s Organizational Leadership Program, Dr. John Townsend often says:

“Grief is God’s way of helping you metabolize what you can no longer hold on to.”

Metabolize.
Like digestion.

If you don’t process it, it doesn’t disappear — it sits undigested.

Research following families who lost loved ones in 9/11 found something striking:
Those who actively processed their grief — individually and in groups — showed brain changes over time. Their loss moved from the “present distress” centers of the brain into memory centers.

They didn’t forget.
But they were no longer living inside the pain.

Those who avoided grief? The distress stayed neurologically present.

For leaders, that matters.

Unprocessed loss leaks into:

• Irritability

• Emotional reactivity

• Cynicism

• Low energy

• Quiet discouragement

• Self-condemnation

It can even fuel numbing behaviors — overworking, overdrinking, overeating, scrolling.

High performers are particularly skilled at bypassing grief.

But resilience requires going through it.

What I Did Instead of “Powering Through”

Before assuming I needed medication or a light therapy lamp (both legitimate tools when appropriate), I tried something simpler:

I wrote.

What exactly am I grieving?
What does this change mean about my identity?
What am I afraid it says about my value?

Then I shared it with Rod. He listened with empathy — not fixing, not minimizing.

Then I shared it with trusted friends and my small group.

Within weeks, something shifted.

I began to see the freedom in a lighter workload.
The joy in painting classes.
The space for new ministry roles and volunteer work.

Ironically, new clients came along — but they no longer carried existential weight.

My value was no longer tied to my calendar.

That’s what grieving did.

It built resilience.

Grief Is a Precursor to Resilience

Resilience is not “getting over it.”

It’s adapting without hardening.

It’s feeling fully and choosing wisely.

You cannot simply will yourself past a loss.
Your brain requires processing.
Your nervous system requires connection.

As Michelle Obama said:

“Grief and resilience live together.”

For leaders, this is emotional intelligence at its finest:
The ability to recognize, name, and process your own internal experience so it doesn’t unconsciously drive your behavior.

Even Jesus Grieved

Scripture never equates maturity with emotional suppression.

• “A time to weep and a time to laugh.” — Ecclesiastes 3:4

• “The Lord is close to the brokenhearted.” — Psalm 34:18

• “Blessed are those who mourn…” — Matthew 5:4

Jesus wept.

He didn’t bypass sorrow.
He entered it.

Grieving with hope is not weakness.
It is spiritual and emotional maturity.

A Lenten Leadership Exercise

As we move through Lent — a season designed for reflection — consider this:

1. What losses have you experienced in the past year?
Not just dramatic ones. Subtle ones too.

2. For each loss, write:

• What happened?

• What was the impact?

• How did I deal with it (or avoid it)?

• What emotions surface now?

• Who is a safe person I can share this with?

Don’t rush this.

Emotional self-awareness is not indulgent.
It is strategic.

Your Call to Action

If you want to lead well — in your company, your family, your ministry — you must increase your capacity to feel without being ruled by your feelings.

That requires:

• Naming losses.

• Allowing grief.

• Sharing vulnerably with safe people.

• Refusing to equate productivity with worth.

Here is the uncomfortable truth:

What you refuse to grieve will quietly govern you.

But what you grieve well will strengthen you.

This week, instead of powering through, pause.

Ask yourself:

What am I carrying that I have not acknowledged?

Then begin the work of metabolizing it.

Your leadership — and your joy — depend on it.

Share

Last week after Ash Wednesday service I sat around a restaurant table with six thoughtful women from my small group. The men were nearby at their own table, deep in animated conversation about investments — where to get the best return, what the markets are doing, and (I assume) how to fully retire by Tuesday.

At our table, we opened with a simple Lenten question:

“What does Lent mean to you?”

But as often happens when women gather over a good meal and a glass of wine, the conversation gently drifted.

Before long, we were talking about our children.

Adult children.

Five out of the six of us shared some version of concern:

• How they’re really doing

• Choices we wish they would make

• Places where life feels harder for them than we hoped

And then — almost on cue — came the familiar turn:

What we wish we had done differently as mothers.

The room grew quieter. Softer. Very honest.

And I found myself thinking…

Whether your children are 6, 16, or 36, this particular ache seems to have remarkable staying power.

The Shame Many Women Quietly Carry

Researcher Brené Brown found that for women:

• #1 shame trigger: body image

• #2 shame trigger: being a “bad mother”

That second one does not politely exit when the kids get their driver’s license. The mother shame trigger also impacts women who never had children - couldn’t, chose not to, waited too long, or tragically lost their child in the womb, or later.

For those who became mothers, It follows women through the toddler years…
through the teenage years…
and — as I witnessed again last night — straight into the empty nest.

**NOTE: I know many wonderful fathers who also struggle with what they wish they could’ve done differently and worry/suffer about how their grown children are doing. This message is for you too!

For The Women In The Thick Of It (ages 30–50)

If you are currently juggling:

• work deadlines

• soccer drop-off

• dinner that someone will definitely complain about

• and the low hum of “Am I doing this right?”

Please hear this clearly:

The bar in your head is likely far higher than what your child actually needs.

For The Women Looking Back

And if your children are grown — and you sometimes replay your younger motherhood with a wince — there is grace here for you too.

Because here is the cruel twist of growth:

We judge our younger motherhood with wisdom we did not yet have.

Of course you see more now.
Of course you would do some things differently.

That is what maturity does.

But now let’s bring in the research — because it is remarkably hopeful.

What Attachment Science Actually Shows

Decades of research from Edward Tronick and Beatrice Beebe tell us something most parents have never been told:

Parents only need to be emotionally attuned to their children about 30–50% of the time to support secure attachment.

Pause right there.

Thirty. To. Fifty. Percent.

Not perfect.
Not constant.
Not even most of the time.

In fact, even in healthy families, parents and children are out of sync much of the time.

What matters most is not avoiding the miss.

What matters most is repair.

Coming back.
Reconnecting.
Trying again.

Translation for today’s busy mom:

If you lost patience before coffee…
If you answered one too many emails during dinner…
If you occasionally hid in the pantry for three minutes of peace…

You have not ruined your child.

(You may, however, need a snack.)

A Word Especially For Mothers Of Grown Children

There is another piece of research that many tender-hearted mothers need to hear.

As children move into adolescence and adulthood, parenting becomes only one of many shaping influences in their lives.

Research consistently shows adult outcomes are increasingly shaped by:

• peer relationships

• temperament

• life experiences

• romantic partners

• personal responsibility and choices

Recently, Dr. John Townsend shared something with me that he and his longtime colleague, Dr. Henry Cloud, often remind parents. When a child is 15, perhaps 40–50% of their ability to navigate life can be connected to how they were raised. By age 21, the balance begins to shift — about 70% rests in their own hands. And by 35, roughly 85% of the direction and quality of their life reflects their own choices, habits, relationships, and willingness to grow.

Dear Mom — especially the one who lies awake replaying old conversations — your influence does not disappear, but it does diminish. Eventually it settles at 15% or less. The baton passes. Their story becomes primarily shaped by how they steward what they were given — the good, the hard, and everything in between.

You were always meant to be a chapter in their story, not the whole book. The rest is now theirs to write.

In other words:

You were never the sole author of your child’s story.

Not when they were five.
And certainly not when they are thirty-five.

Share

Scripture Speaks With Gentle Honesty

Psalm 103 offers this compassionate reminder:

“He knows our frame; He remembers that we are dust.”

Not disappointing dust.
Not failing dust.
Simply human.

Throughout Scripture, God works through imperfect parents and complicated family stories. (Have you read Genesis lately? It is not exactly a parenting highlight reel.)

What we see instead is a God deeply committed to redemption, repair, and ongoing growth — in us and in our children.

Grace was never meant only for the kids.

It was always meant for mothers too.

A Gentle Lenten Invitation

So as Lent invites us into honest reflection — not harsh self-accusation — perhaps the better questions are:

• Where did I love faithfully with the capacity I had then?

• Where did I return and repair when I missed?

• Where might God still be at work in my child’s unfolding story?

Because if last week’s dinner table taught me anything, it is this:

The women I know did not parent perfectly.

But we loved deeply.
We showed up imperfectly.
We kept coming back.

And friends… that is far closer to “good enough” than shame would have us believe.

Encouragement for the Weary

So to the mother in the minivan…
and the mother staring at her adult child’s name lighting up her phone…
and the wise woman still quietly carrying regret from years ago…

Take a slow, grace-filled breath.

The research is kinder than your inner critic.
Scripture is gentler than your shame.
And your child’s story is bigger than your mistakes.

You were never asked to be a perfect mother.

Only a real one.

And by the measure that actually shapes secure hearts and resilient lives…

You may have been beautifully, faithfully, wonderfully…

good enough all along. 💛

Most leaders I work with wake up already behind.

Before their feet hit the floor, their minds are scanning: deadlines, school schedules, client demands, aging parents, performance metrics, unread texts. The day hasn’t started, and already the pressure hums.

It’s no wonder Lent can feel irrelevant. Who has time for reflection when you’re just trying to stay afloat?

And yet, when someone recently asked me what Lent means to me, my mind didn’t go to theology or discipline.

It went to the dark.

Every morning during Lent, my older sister Janet took me to 7:00 a.m. Mass at the church across the street. In the cold New York winter, it was still dark when we bundled up and slipped outside. Snow crunched under our boots. The world was quiet.

It felt like an adventure.

I felt chosen—on a mission, just the two of us—walking toward something sacred before the world stirred.

The Stories That Form Us

In my last post, I wrote about Making Sense of Your Story. This small scene is another piece of mine—my faith story.

Our stories are not sentimental nostalgia. They are formation.

They tell us where our values were born. What we learned about belonging. How we came to define success, goodness, sacrifice—even God.

Janet was the only one in our family excited about church. My parents attended occasionally for milestone events. My older sister was busy being a glamorous teenager. But Janet and I slipped away in the dark.

Sitting in that pew with the handful of faithful souls who braved the snowy morning felt almost conspiratorial—like we knew something others didn’t. A small band of worshipers who believed showing up mattered.

That memory still carries warmth.

But it’s doing more than warming me.

It’s instructing me.

Formation Is Happening Right Now

If you’re in your thirties or forties, your mornings likely look nothing like snowy walks to church.

They look like:

• Packing lunches

• Checking email before coffee

• Negotiating toddler meltdowns or teenage silence

• Preparing for presentations

• Wondering if you’re falling behind

Lent can feel like one more thing to add to the list.

But here’s what that childhood memory reminds me:

Formation happens in small, repeated moments.

The person you are becoming is being shaped right now—
In how you respond when you’re tired.
In whether you check your phone or look into your child’s eyes.
In how you speak to yourself after a mistake.
In what you chase when no one is watching.

Every decade brings its own pressure.

In your thirties, it may be proving.
In your forties, sustaining.
In your fifties and beyond, releasing.

But beneath all of it is one steady question:

Who am I becoming?

The Identity Beneath the Achievement

As I approach a landmark birthday this year, I’m asking a different version of that question.

Who am I if my schedule is lighter?
If influence is quieter?
If productivity no longer defines me?

At first, that felt unsettling.

My ego had opinions.

But then that early memory resurfaced.

That little girl walking through the snow before dawn—groggy yet thrilled. Not building a résumé. Not cultivating influence. Just drawn toward God.

It feels less like retreat and more like return.

And here’s the surprising truth: whether you are building your career or recalibrating it, the deeper invitation is the same.

Maybe Lent Isn’t About Doing More

Perhaps Lent—especially for leaders carrying much—is not about adding heroic disciplines.

Maybe it’s about gentle reorientation.

Five minutes of silence before the house wakes.
One commute without a podcast.
One intentional breath in the parking lot before walking into the office.
One honest prayer whispered between meetings.

Not dramatic.
Not performative.
Just attentive.

This year, I’m choosing to read, to pray, to listen. I’m asking God to clarify the next decade—my commitments, my yes and my no.

But if you’re younger, your questions may sound different:

Am I enough?
Is this pace sustainable?
What am I sacrificing without realizing it?

Those are sacred questions too.

A Simple Reflection for Busy Leaders

Take ten quiet minutes this week and ask yourself:

• What early memory shaped how I think about success?

• Where did I first learn what “being good” means?

• What am I chasing right now?

• What might I need to release—or return to?

Your story is not just explaining your past.

It may be pointing you toward your truest future.

Ash Wednesday marks the beginning of Lent—a season of humility and recalibration. A reminder that we are dust, yes—but dust animated by breath.

Perhaps the invitation is not to strive harder, but to walk—quietly and intentionally—toward the light before dawn.

Even leaders who carry much are still invited there.

He has shown you, O man, what is good; and what does the Lord require of you but to do justly, to love mercy, and to walk humbly with your God?” - Micah 6:8

Share

Most of us think of our story as something that already happened.

Childhood. Adolescence. Early adulthood.
We survived it. We learned from it. We moved on.

But what if your story is not behind you?
What if it is quietly shaping the way you respond to your spouse, your children, your colleagues — even to God?

Long before you had a role — leader, parent, teacher, doctor, retiree — you were a child learning how to navigate love, power, fear, joy, and disappointment. You learned how to stay safe. How to be seen. How to avoid shame. How to manage anger.

Those lessons are still at work.

How Story Work Affects Every Role You Hold

For leaders, unexamined stories often show up as micromanagement, overwork, defensiveness, or conflict avoidance.

For parents, they may appear as overprotection, harshness, emotional distance, or unrealistic expectations.

For teachers, doctors, pastors, and caregivers, they can surface as burnout, boundary confusion, or the need to rescue.

For retirees, old identity wounds may emerge when achievement is no longer the primary marker of worth.

No one escapes the influence of their story.

But when we begin to “make sense” of it, something shifts.

Defensiveness softens.
Compassion increases — especially toward ourselves.
Our reactions slow down.
We gain freedom from negative thinking loops.
Our relationships grow steadier.

The Work of Healing Is Not Self-Indulgent

Many adults dismiss this work as unnecessary or self-focused. “That was a long time ago.” “My childhood wasn’t that bad.” “Other people had it worse.”

This work is not about comparison or minimizing.

It is about integration.

It is about recognizing that every story — even a “good” one — shapes how we experience power, love, risk, and connection.

When we ignore our story, it continues to quietly direct us. This leaves us ineffective to overcome common struggles such as: unhealthy habits, negative thinking patterns, irrational fears and more.

When we explore it, we regain choice.

And with choice comes freedom.

It Is Not Good to Be Alone — Especially With Your Story

Here is the deeper truth — one that is both biblical and neurological:

We were never meant to do this work alone.

From Genesis forward, Scripture tells us it is not good for humans to be alone. Modern neuroscience agrees. Daniel Siegel has shown that healing equals neural integration — the linking together of parts of the brain that have become disconnected through stress or trauma. And that integration most reliably happens in the presence of a safe, attuned other person.

He calls it “feeling felt.”

John Townsend has written extensively about the necessity of safe relationships for growth. God designed our nervous systems to regulate in connection. A loving, empathic witness is not optional to healing — it is central to it. For more, read John’s book, People Fuel.

Adam Young writes in Chapter 13 of Make Sense of Your Story, “What if you didn’t have to do this alone?” Your life will only fully make sense when others are empathically present to your story.

Healing happens when someone enters the vulnerable places with us — not to fix, not to advise, but to witness.

When we tell our story and someone stays and leans in.

When they reflect back what they see.

When they help us name what we could not name as children.

That presence rewires us.

So What Might This Look Like In Real Life?

You could participate in a professionally guided small group at the Allender Center, where your story is held with care and structure.

Or you could gather two or three trusted friends and read Make Sense of Your Story together. Yes, it will be a deeper “book club” than most. But it may also become one of the most meaningful seasons of connection you’ve ever experienced.

Invite each other to share a childhood memory.
Ask what you learned about love and conflict.
Listen without interruption.
Offer empathy before insight.

You do not need to become a therapist for one another. Adam Young’s book (Chapter 13) offers a simple pathway for engaging this work with safe friends.

This kind of nourishing connection changes how we lead, parent, practice medicine, teach, and love. It softens defensiveness. It reduces reactivity. It increases compassion. It brings peace into our homes.

Exploring your story is not self-indulgent. It is courageous. And it is deeply aligned with how God designed us — for connection, for truth, for healing in community.

You were shaped in relationship.
You will be healed in relationship.

And your story will make far more sense
when someone else is sitting beside you
as you tell it.

Share

January is named for Janus, the Roman god of doorways, transitions, and new beginnings—often pictured with two faces: one looking backward and one looking forward.

Honestly… that feels about right.

One part of us is still trying to remember what day it is, and the other part is staring down the new year like, “Okay, Lord. Let’s do this. But gently.”

And while I love the energy of a fresh start, I’m not particularly interested in the traditional January ritual of declaring a dozen heroic New Year’s resolutions… only to abandon them somewhere around January 28th (right between “Whole30” and “Is this really worth it?”).

Instead, I’m inviting us into something more realistic—and far more powerful:

Intention.

Not the performative kind.
Not the guilt-driven kind.
Not the kind where you announce it to three friends and buy matching journals.

The kind that asks:

How do I want to be in the world this year?
What impact do I want to make—at work, in my family, in friendships, in my community?
What kind of person do I want to become?

Because with all the negative and heavy things happening around us—division, conflict, suffering, unpredictability—we need something solid to hold on to.

And here’s the truth:

We can’t control the world.

But we can control the one thing that remains stubbornly within our reach:

Our own choices. Our behavior. Our growth. Our love in action.

And that matters. More than ever.

New Growth Requires Looking Back (Yes, really!)

Before we decide where we’re going, it helps to look at where we’ve been—with honesty, humility, and a little courage.

That’s why I love the practice of an Annual Reflection.

Not the kind where you beat yourself up for everything you didn’t do.

More like a yearly “truth-telling” practice—a way of taking inventory of the past year with both gratitude and reality.

As a gift to you, I’m sharing a reflection tool from my Life as Art workbook: a 15-question Annual Reflection process that helps you look back over the last 12 months and name what was meaningful, what was difficult, and what’s calling you forward.

Here are a few of the prompts:

• What did I accomplish this year that mattered?

• What did I hope to do but didn’t?

• What losses did I experience?

• Where did I struggle, feel disappointed, or get off track?

• What lessons did I learn?

• What risks were worth it—and how did they benefit me or others?

This process does something important:

It helps us confront reality without shame.

It widens the lens so we can see our lives truthfully—our growth, our patterns, our progress, our pain… and the threads God has been weaving even when we didn’t notice.

And in case you need reassurance: reflection doesn’t mean reliving.
It means learning.

Naming the Themes: What Is Mine to Do Next?

Once we’ve looked back, we can look forward with clarity.

Where is God leading you this year?

What lights you up?
What do you feel drawn toward?
What do you sense you’re being invited into?

And just as important:

Where are you stuck?

Most of us already know the “growth zones” we’d like to tackle—health, career decisions, relationships, leadership, emotional maturity, spiritual rhythms, habits, courage, boundaries. (Also: bedtime. Why is sleep such a problem?)

But here’s the key question:

Do I trust myself to change this without support?

If your answer is, “I’m not sure,” that is not discouraging.

That is wisdom.

Because transformation rarely happens through pure willpower and good intentions.
It happens through:

clarity + commitment + support + steady action over time.

Sometimes we need a structure outside ourselves—a coach, a therapist, a group, a program, or simply a circle of people who are also trying to be brave and grow up in the best possible way.

A Simple Invitation

If this resonates, I invite you to download the Life as Art Annual Reflection (15 questions) and take an hour to complete it.

Do it by yourself with coffee and a cozy blanket.
Do it with your spouse.
Do it with a friend.
Do it with your team or small group.

Beyond that, I challenge you to follow the prompts through the rest of the workbook to examine the themes you see. From there, consider your purpose, your 3-5 year vision, and your most cherished values. The view from that broader context, will help you identify three stretch goals that make the most sense. Goals that are doable, focused, fun and inspiring. Not overwhelming, unrealistic or easily forgotten.

And if you want support beyond the worksheet, I’d love to come alongside you.

That might mean:

• individual coaching

• guiding you to set up a small circle of people sharing goals and encouragement (meeting monthly or quarterly)

• or a custom support structure tailored to your season of life

You don’t have to design your year alone.

January is a doorway.

And you don’t have to walk through it with guilt, vague intentions, or unrealistic expectations.

You can step forward with vision, courage, and a plan that makes growth not only possible… but sustainable.

Wishing you a meaningful, grounded, hope-filled year ahead.

—Elaine

Here is the link to the Life As Art workbook.

See Life As Art

Email me if you would like to talk about setting up the best support for yourself this year: elaine@elainemorris.com.

As this year draws to a close, I find myself deeply grateful for the privilege of walking alongside you in your leadership, your work, and your life. Coaching is sacred ground for me—space where honesty, courage, growth, and hope are nurtured—and I never take lightly the trust you place in that relationship.

For those who celebrate Christmas, this season invites reflection on light entering the world—on love, humility, and the power of presence. For others, it may be a time of rest, reflection, family, or renewal. However you mark this season, my hope is that it brings you moments of peace, meaning, and connection.

There is a verse from Scripture that has always felt especially fitting this time of year: “The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.” Whether you hold that as faith, poetry, or simply truth born of lived experience, it speaks to resilience, hope, and the quiet strength that carries us forward—even in complex times.

Thank you for your openness, your willingness to grow, and the good you are bringing into your families, organizations, and communities. You make my work not only meaningful, but joyful.

May the days ahead offer you rest where you are weary, clarity where you seek wisdom, and renewed strength for the road ahead. I wish you and those you love a season filled with warmth, grace, and hope—and a new year rich with purpose and possibility.

With deep appreciation and blessings,
Elaine

This year, gratitude may not come easily. The world feels so fragile—wars erupt, disasters strike, people struggle to make ends meet, and our leaders seem unable to agree on much of anything. It’s easy to feel disheartened and to wonder if there’s any reason left to give thanks.

And yet… there is.

In times like these, we find comfort in quiet reflection and prayer—not as an escape from reality, but to connect with something larger than the noise of the world. The ancient story of Daniel reminds us that humility, honesty, and hope can exist even when everything around us feels broken.

Prayer is our access to divine power—the kind no government, policy, or human effort can produce. Through prayer, we find comfort, strength, and hope that transcends understanding.

So, if you find it hard to feel thankful this year, know you’re not alone. Still, don’t stop gathering around the table, cooking your favorite meal, or serving your community. But also—pause. Turn your heart toward God. Let Him refill your spirit. You’ll find your outlook and your peace begin to shift. Time with God changes the entire trajectory of our day.

This Thanksgiving, I pray that you experience not only the warmth of family and good food, but the deeper peace that comes from time with God. He is still at work. He has not forgotten us. Angels surround us, and light is breaking through the darkness.

Together—in prayer—we can be part of that light.

With love and gratitude for your friendship, your work in the world and for your prayers for us,

Elaine and Rod

“Be still, and know that I am God.” — Psalm 46:10

As an executive coach and former Vistage CEO facilitator, I’ve spent decades listening to top economic forecasters, including the Beaulieu brothers—longtime Vistage speakers known for their data-driven insights.

I still remember their warning to CEOs back in 2005:

“Make sure you have a house big enough for your grown kids and their families to move in with you by 2030.”

At the time, that prediction drew chuckles. Today, it feels more like prophecy.

A recent editorial in Charleston’s The Post and Courier reignited my sense of urgency about our nation’s fiscal trajectory:
👉 U.S. Faces Bleak Economic Future: What’s the Solution?

As writer Les Rubin emphasizes, this is not a partisan issue—it’s a matter of fiscal responsibility and collective courage. Yet, few political candidates seem willing to tell the hard truth to the American people.

I remember Jimmy Carter didn’t fare so well when he told the American people they may have to face some suffering to overcome the inflation and post oil crisis known as stagflation in 1977. He was applauded for his honesty and integrity. However his popularity quickly diminished as he talked about difficult decisions and tradeoffs.

My friend, John Townsend is oft quoted with Reality is your friend. But the American people did not regard this as friendship.

Confront the Brutal Facts!

Jim Collins in his groundbreaking book, Good to Great, tells leaders that facing reality, no matter how harsh, is the foundation for breakthrough success. But are we really willing to do the hard things it may take to turn things around?

So What Can We Do?

Every credible economist points to one clear directive: be prepared. But preparation alone is not enough. Being prepared often equates to a bunker mentality of self-protection, self-preservation and a lack of compassion for those outside your walls. Folks, we are all in this boat together!

Putting on a life jacket is important. But if your boat is headed towards Niagara Falls, a life jacket won’t save you. Did you know there are numerous signs on the Niagara River just a few miles from the falls. The signs say things like, Danger! You are getting to the point of no return. and This is not the place to take a dip!

Sadly, there are reports of people who died because they did not heed the signs or in some cases, were foreign visitors who could not read the English language, warning them of the danger.

This is a close analogy to where we are at economically. People need to learn to read the economic signs. We must be prepared but we must also take action.

Mr. Rubin’s organization, Main Street Economics, offers accessible, fact-based resources and simple tools to contact your government representatives. His proposed solution—a bipartisan, expert-driven commission to restore fiscal sustainability and educate Americans about what’s truly at stake—deserves broad public support.

Awareness is Curative

But that’s just one man’s efforts to find possible solutions. We need many more ideas and more than anything, we need awareness for what’s at stake.

While I usually write about awareness as it relates to Emotional Intelligence, here I’m talking about Economic Intelligence. Interesting that the prescription for building one’s Emotional Intelligence is Self-Awareness. I often quote the late Dr. Paul Warren, Awareness is curative.

What if awareness is also a good start towards building Economic Intelligence? Of course it starts with first making a decision to want to make a change, as in any type of personal growth work.

Yet, action must follow. I invite you to read some credible sources of information. This will help you see for yourself and be informed about what you are backing, what you are voting for, and how it impacts the longer view.

Build Your EQ (Economic Quotient)

Here is Les Rubin’s non-profit website, rich in resources. https://www.mainstreeteconomics.org/post/our-current-finances-are-unsustainable-what-does-that-mean-vol-181

Read more about the trends and the facts behind the research the Beaulieu brothers have done for the past 30 years to help business thrive through the ups and downs of economic cycles. https://itreconomics.com/2030s-great-depression/

If we continue to look the other way, the consequences will fall squarely on our children and grandchildren. Our economic future—and theirs—depends on it.

Leave a comment

Share