The days feel long, but our years disappear. I’ve been thinking about how easily “someday” turns into “back then.” We spend so much of life working toward what’s next that we sometimes forget we’re already living the moments we’ll one day remember with gratitude.
This truth reaches us at every age. Whether we shape our future with intention or let it unfold on its own, it arrives and quietly invites us to participate. This reflection is about the sweetness of now and noticing that these moments become the story we’re creating together.
Each day arrives on its own, small and full of potential. It doesn’t ask for much. Only our attention, our care, and our willingness to be here. The hours move like honey, slow and golden, rich with sweetness if we take time to notice. Yet the years rush by quietly. One morning we look up and realize the future we worked toward has become the past we cherish.
What we dreamed about for so long is happening now. This day, with its imperfections, interruptions, and small joys, is the life we once hoped to reach. It’s the tomorrow we imagined, already unfolding beneath our feet.
Time helps us see backward with gratitude and forward with wonder. We remember the faces and laughter that have softened into memory. We hold them gently, realizing how meaning hides in ordinary moments.
Each day is a life of its own. Complete, sacred, and fleeting. When we let its minutes open slowly, like sunlight through leaves, we find gratitude sweetening everything it touches. Our wonder grows in quiet places.
“Then” is always born of “now.” When we live this moment with attention, kindness, and a sense of awe, it never really fades. It simply changes shape, becoming the stories we tell, the lessons we pass along, and the love that lingers long after the moment has gone.
You can tell people what to do, and sometimes that’s the right call. Yet, direction without participation creates compliance instead of commitment.
When people understand the purpose, see where they fit, and have a voice in the direction, they’ll take emotional ownership.
The best leaders invite that ownership by asking questions that open doors to insight. What are we missing? What would you try? Where do you see the risk? These questions are invitations to shape the work and the results.
When a product manager asks her team, “How would you approach this?” instead of presenting a finished plan, the solutions that emerge are sharper, and the team building them gets stronger.
Humans are built for both independence and belonging, desires that often pull in different directions. Wise leaders guide this tension well. They give people space to grow while connecting them to something larger than themselves.
To bring others on the journey is to build together. Growth is shared. Trust expands. When the path gets steep, they’ll keep climbing with purpose.
They remember the reasons, because they helped shape the path.
Photo by Powrock Mountain Guides on Unsplash – Unsplash has a ton of amazing hiking photos, mountain climbing photos, pictures of maps, legos, and winding paths. All would have represented the themes of this post admirably. But this photo caught my eye.
How do you see it connecting to this post? What makes this photo stand out? How hard do you think it is to hike across to that gleaming white mountain in the distance?
It was the second day of a two-day strategic planning retreat. Revenue projections stretched across the screen. The CFO walked through all the assumptions in his spreadsheet. Customer acquisition costs will flatten, churn will improve by two points, and the new product will capture eight percent market share within six months.
Everyone nodded along, acting as if these forecasts represented knowledge rather than elaborate guesses built on dozens of assumptions, any one of which could be wrong.
Three months later, a competitor launched an unexpected feature. Customer behavior shifted. The CFO’s projections became relics of a reality that never existed. The entire strategic planning process had been built on an illusion.
What we pretend to know
In his 2022 memo The Illusion of Knowledge, Howard Marks explored how investors mistake confidence for clarity. He began with a line from historian Daniel Boorstin:
“The greatest enemy of knowledge is not ignorance, it is the illusion of knowledge.”
Leaders face a brutal paradox. Boards expect forecasts. Teams want confidence. Investors demand projections. The machinery of leadership demands certainty.
So, we build elaborate forecasts and make decisions based on assumptions we know to be fragile. We treat detailed guesses as facts.
Physicist Richard Feynman once said, “Imagine how much harder physics would be if electrons had feelings.” Electrons follow discrete laws, unlike people. People innovate, resist, panic, and occasionally do something amazing nobody saw coming. Competitors behave differently than our models assume. Markets shift for reasons we never thought possible.
Marks describes forecasting as a chain of predictions. “I predict the economy will do A. If A happens, interest rates should do B. With interest rates of B, the stock market should do C.” Even if you’re right two-thirds of the time at each step, your chance of getting all three predictions correct at once is only about thirty percent.
Leadership forecasts work in a similar way. We predict customer adoption rates. If adoption hits those numbers, we’ll need a certain operational capacity. With that capacity, we can achieve specific margins. Those margins will attract investment.
Each assumption depends on the previous one. The chain is only as strong as its weakest link.
The tools we trust
Walk into any strategic planning session and you’ll likely encounter two frameworks treated as gospel:
-SWOT analysis (strengths, weaknesses, opportunities, and threats)
-SMART goals (specific, measurable, achievable, relevant, and time-bound).
Business schools teach them. Consultants recommend them. Leaders deploy them with confidence. Each relies on assumed knowledge that may not exist.
A SWOT analysis claims to know which possible developments count as opportunities versus threats. It’s a snapshot of assumptions masquerading as strategic insight. An opportunity exists only if you can identify it, execute against it, and do so before circumstances change. The framework provides no way of acknowledging uncertainty.
SMART goals often confuse precision with accuracy. “Increase market share” becomes “increase market share in the Northeast region from 12% to 15% by Q4 2026.” It sounds specific, and therefore rigorous. It’s easy to be precise about something unpredictable.
And how do we know a goal is achievable? We make assumptions about resources, market conditions, and competitor behavior, then write a goal that treats our assumptions as facts.
Both frameworks serve a valuable purpose. They force structured thinking. But they also seduce leaders into believing they know more than they do.
What should we do instead?
To be clear, this isn’t an argument for abandoning planning. Organizations need direction, priorities, and coordinated action. The question is how to plan in ways that acknowledge what we can’t know while still making decisive progress.
A better path involves changing how we plan and how we talk about the future.
Distinguish between direction and destination. Amazon knew it wanted to be “Earth’s most customer-centric company” without knowing exactly what that would look like in year ten. “We’re moving toward increased automation” carries more truth than “we’ll reduce costs by seventeen percent by Q3 2026.” The first creates direction. The second creates false precision.
Separate what you know from what you assume. Customer complaints increased forty percent this quarter. That’s knowledge. Saying the trend will continue is extrapolation. Predicting that fixing the issue will increase retention by five points is speculation. Present plans that show what you know, what you’re inferring, what you’re assuming, and what you’ll do if you’re wrong.
Build optionality into everything. Create strategies that work across multiple futures. Hire people who can do, or think about, more than one thing. Build modular systems with flexibility in mind. Create decision points where you can change course.
Use familiar tools differently. Run a SWOT analysis, then list three ways each opportunity might fail to materialize. Write SMART goals, then document the assumptions those goals depend on and how you’ll adapt if they prove incorrect.
Here’s a concrete example. You’re deciding whether to build a new product line. The traditional approach creates a detailed business case with market projections and revenue forecasts. You present it. People debate assumptions. A decision gets made.
An alternative approach defines what success means, then identifies what must be true to achieve it. You sort those conditions into things you can validate quickly, things you can validate over time, and things you can validate only much later. Stage investments to match the timing of the validations, rather than an arbitrary quarterly schedule.
The difference in these approaches is critical. In the first, the business case pretends to represent knowledge. In the second, it becomes a set of hypotheses to test over time.
The harder path
Amos Tversky observed, “It’s frightening to think that you might lack knowledge about something, but more frightening to think that, by and large, the world is run by people who have faith that they know exactly what’s going on.”
We select leaders for their ability to project confidence about an unknowable future. We reward decisiveness over doubt. Then we wonder why strategies fail when reality diverges from our projections.
Most of us live in this system. We’ve built organizations that demand the illusion of knowledge.
Real leadership creates organizations resilient enough to find answers as circumstances unfold. It builds teams that can adapt rather than simply execute a plan written many months ago.
When did you last change a forecast because reality diverged from your assumptions?
When did you last reward someone for identifying that a plan was failing?
Start small. Pick one decision where you can be explicit about uncertainty. Structure one investment to test assumptions instead of betting on a forecast. Have one conversation where you separate what you know from what you’re guessing.
Plan in ways that acknowledge uncertainty and position your organization to learn. Lead with confidence about principles while staying adaptable around specifics. Build organizations that can adapt when reality diverges from the plan.
Because it will. The measure of leadership lies in how well your culture can face that truth.
I saw The Secret Life of Walter Mitty on an airplane ride recently. At a significant moment in the story, we hear the line, “Beautiful things don’t ask for attention.”
The photographer in the story chooses not to take a coveted photo of the elusive snow leopard. Instead, he simply enjoys the beautiful moment with his own eyes.
Real beauty doesn’t need to perform. It’s authentic and humble, whether anyone stops to notice or not.
A person of character lives this way. They have no need to prove themselves. They show up with kindness, consistency, and honesty. The neighbor who shovels snow from an elderly woman’s driveway before dawn, leaving no trace. Or the teacher who stays late to help a struggling student, never mentioning it to anyone.
The beauty of their character reveals itself in the way they live each day.
Humility makes this possible. It allows a life to shine without glare, to influence others by being genuine. Like mountains that reflect the glow of sunrise or wildflowers blooming unseen in a meadow, people of quiet integrity embody a beauty that doesn’t depend on recognition.
In our culture that rewards noise and spectacle, this is easy to forget. We’re told to broadcast accomplishments and measure our worth by attention. Yet the most meaningful lives belong to those who live true to themselves, free from the need for applause.
The things that endure, whether in people or in nature, carry their beauty without fanfare. They simply are.
There’s a paradox in writing about something that exists most powerfully in silence. Maybe that’s the point. Celebrating this kind of beauty without claiming it for ourselves.
But we can learn to recognize it. To be shaped and inspired by it. And, in our quieter moments, we can strive to live it.
Photo by Patrick Schaudel on Unsplash – some of my fondest memories involve waking up in a tent on crisp mountain mornings, basking in the beautiful glow of the rising sun.
Eighty-eight percent of AI pilots fail to reach production, according to IDC research. Most fail because organizations chase the tool instead of defining the outcome. They ask, “How do we use AI?” rather than “What problem are we solving?”
A little perspective
I’m old enough to remember when VisiCalc and SuperCalc came out. That was before Lotus 1-2-3, and way before Microsoft Excel. VisiCalc and SuperCalc were just ahead of my time, but I was a big user of Lotus 1-2-3 version 1. Back then, everyone focused on how to harness the power of spreadsheets to change the way they did business.
Teams built massive (for that time) databases inside spreadsheets to manage product lines, inventory, billing, and even entire accounting systems. If you didn’t know how to use a spreadsheet, you were last year’s news.
The same shift happened with word processing. Microsoft Word replaced WordPerfect and its maze of Ctrl and Alt key combinations. Then the World Wide Web arrived in the early 1990s and opened a new set of doors.
I could go on with databases, client-server, cloud computing, etc. Each technology wave creates new winners but also leaves some behind.
The lesson is simple each time. New tools expand possibilities. Strategy gives those tools a purpose.
The point today
AI is a modern toolkit that can read, reason (think?), write, summarize, classify, predict, and create. It shines when you give it a clear job. Your strategy defines that job. If your aim is faster cycle times, higher service quality, or new revenue, AI can be the lever that helps you reach those outcomes faster.
Three traps to avoid
Tool chasing. This looks like collecting models and platforms without a target outcome. Teams spin up ChatGPT accounts, experiment with image generators, and build proof-of-concepts that fail to connect to real business value. The result is pilot fatigue. Endless demonstrations with no measurable impact.
Shadow projects. Well-meaning teams launch skunkworks AI experiments without governance or oversight. They use unapproved tools, expose sensitive data, or build solutions that struggle to integrate with existing systems. What starts as innovation becomes a compliance nightmare that stalls broader adoption.
Fear-driven paralysis. Some organizations wait for perfect clarity about AI’s impact, regulations, or competitive implications before acting. This creates missed opportunities and learning delays while competitors gain experience and market advantage.
An AI enablement playbook
Name your outcomes. Pick three measurable goals tied to customers, cost, or growth. Examples: reduce loan processing time by 30 percent, cut customer service response time from 4 hours to 30 minutes, or increase content production by 50 percent without adding headcount.
Map the work. List the steps where people read, write, search, decide, or hand off. These are all in AI’s wheelhouse to help. Look for tasks involving document review, email responses, data analysis, report generation, or quality checks.
Run small experiments. Two to four weeks. One team. One KPI. Ship something tangible and useful. Test AI-powered invoice processing with the accounting team, or AI-assisted internal help desk with support staff.
Measure and compare. Track speed, quality, cost, and satisfaction before and after. Keep what moves the needle. If AI cuts proposal writing time by 60 percent but reduces win rates by 20 percent, you need to adjust the approach.
Harden and scale. Add access controls, audit trails, curated prompt libraries, and playbooks. Move from a cool demo to a dependable tool that works consistently across teams and use cases.
Address the human element. Most resistance comes from fear of displacement, rather than technology aversion. Show people how AI handles routine tasks so they can focus on relationship building, creative problem-solving, and strategic work. Provide concrete examples of career advancement opportunities that AI creates.
Upskill your team. Short trainings with real tasks. Provide templates and examples in their daily tools. Make AI fluency a job requirement for new hires and a development goal for existing staff.
Close the loop with customers. Ask what improved. Watch behavior and survey scores, with extra weight on what people actually do, versus what they say.
Governance that speeds you up. Good guardrails create confidence and help you scale.
Access and roles. Limit sensitive data exposure and log usage by role. Marketing might get broad access to content generation tools while finance operates under stricter controls. The concept of least privilege applies.
Data handling. Define red, yellow, and green data. Keep red data (customer SSNs, proprietary algorithms, confidential contracts) away from general public-facing tools. Yellow data needs approval and monitoring. Green data can flow freely.
Prompt and output standards. Save proven prompts in shared libraries. Require human review for customer-facing outputs, financial projections, or legal documents. Create templates that teams can adapt rather than starting from scratch.
Audit and monitoring. Capture prompts, outputs, and sources for key use cases. Build processes to detect bias, errors, or inappropriate content before it reaches customers.
Vendor review. Check security, uptime, and exit paths before heavy adoption. Understand data residency, model training practices, and integration capabilities. Consider making Bring-Your-Own-Key (BYOK) encryption the minimum standard for allowing your organization’s data to pass through or be stored on any AI vendor’s environment.
Questions for leaders
Which customer moments would benefit most from faster response or clearer guidance? Think about your highest-value interactions and biggest pain points.
Which workflows have the most repetitive reading or writing? These offer the quickest wins and clearest ROI calculations.
Which decisions would improve with better summaries or predictions? AI excels at processing large amounts of information and identifying patterns humans might miss.
Do we have the data infrastructure to support AI initiatives? Clean, accessible data is essential for most AI applications to work effectively. Solid data governance and curation are critical.
What risks must we manage as usage grows, and who owns that plan? Assign clear accountability for AI governance before problems emerge.
What will we stop doing once AI handles the routine? Define how you’ll reallocate human effort toward higher-value activities.
Who will champion AI adoption when the inevitable setbacks occur? Identify executives who understand both the potential and the challenges.
What to measure
Cycle time. Minutes or days saved per transaction.
Unit cost. Cost per ticket, per claim, per application.
AI is the enabler
Strategy sets direction. AI supplies leverage. Give your people clear goals, safe guardrails, and permission to experiment and fail along the way.
Then let the tools do what tools do best. They multiply effort. They shorten the distance between intent and execution. They help you serve today’s customers better and reach customers you couldn’t reach in the past.
The question isn’t whether AI will transform your industry.
The question is whether you’ll lead that transformation or react to it.
Which will you choose?
Photo by Jen Theodore on Unsplash – I love this old school compass, showing the way as it always has. The same way a solid strategy and set of goals should lead our thinking about leveraging the latest AI tools.
There are times when we are firmly in the right. The facts are clear. The other person made a mistake or caused harm. In that moment, we face a choice. We can leverage our position of strength and press our advantage. Or we can give grace.
Grace is the strength to let go of proving a point. The willingness to give someone space to recognize what went wrong and find their way back. Every one of us needs that space, because every one of us makes mistakes.
Grace holds truth in one hand and love in the other. It sees what happened and names it honestly. It also holds out the invitation to begin again. In this way, grace strengthens relationships and helps keep them whole.
Grace looks to the future. A person rarely grows when held down by another’s righteousness. They grow when they feel the freedom to face their mistakes with dignity. Grace creates space for that freedom.
The flow of grace is a gift that we depend on. It honors truth. It protects relationships. When we give grace, we often find that it changes us as well.
We may discover that the person we extend grace to carries burdens we never knew about. When we choose grace over vindication, we become more human, more aware of our own weaknesses, and more capable of genuine compassion.
“Put on then, as God’s chosen ones, holy and beloved, heartfelt compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness, and patience, bearing with one another and forgiving one another, if one has a grievance against another; as the Lord has forgiven you, so must you also do.” – Col 3:12–13
When we look toward the future, two voices compete for our attention. Fear tells us to run away. Curiosity invites us to step forward.
Fear whispers, “It’s too much. I can’t keep up. Better to stop trying.” Curiosity responds, “I don’t understand…yet. Let’s see what happens.”
Fear closes.
Curiosity opens.
Fear imagines disaster.
Curiosity imagines possibilities.
Fear isolates.
Curiosity connects.
The world is changing quickly. The pace can feel overwhelming. Many will react with fear. A curious spirit asks questions. It wonders what could be.
Curiosity doesn’t remove uncertainty but transforms how we deal with it. When we lead with curiosity, we move from paralysis to participation. We see the unknown as a chance to grow.
“Never let the future disturb you. You will meet it with the same weapons of reason which today arm you against the present.” – Marcus Aurelius
We already have the tools we need. Curiosity and our ability to learn. What we need is the courage to use them.
Psalm 91 promises safety from dangers both visible and invisible, from “the terror by night” to “the arrow that flieth by day.”
In verse 6, we read: “Nor for the pestilence that walketh in darkness; nor for the destruction that wasteth at noonday.”
The Desert Fathers, those early Christians who left the cities around the third and fourth centuries to live in the desert, drew on this verse to describe one of their deepest spiritual struggles. They called it the noonday devil.
This devil represents an interior battle, a weariness of the soul that crept in at midday when the sun beat down, the silence grew heavy, and the temptation to abandon their prayer and vocation felt overwhelming.
They named this struggle acedia. Sometimes it’s translated as sloth, but it is much more than that.
How many kids have said to their parents, “I’m bored.” We remind them that boredom is in their heads. They can use their imagination, find a book, or play outside. And if that doesn’t land, we parents always have another cure for their boredom: chores.
It’s amazing how quickly boredom vanishes when a child is handed a rake, a shovel, or a basket of laundry to fold.
Boredom is what happens when we can’t see the meaning in what we’re doing. Acedia is boredom’s older cousin. Spiritual weariness with much deeper stakes.
It’s restlessness, a refusal to care, a loss of joy in the very things that give life meaning. It can show up as distraction or busyness. Acedia tempts us to walk away when the middle of the journey feels too long and too heavy.
I think of the countless days spent inching along in rush-hour traffic, morning after morning, just to get to work. I’d put in a full day’s work, then crawl through another hour or more of brake lights to get home. The next day brought the same routine. After a while, it was easy to think maybe the whole thing had no meaning.
That’s the noonday devil at work.
The midpoints of life test us in a similar way. Paying bills, the daily grind of a career without clear progress, responsibilities that seem to grow heavier without much relief. Our internal voice asks, “How can I escape? Should I look for something easier?”
Jean-Charles Nault’s The Noonday Devil: Acedia, the Unnamed Evil of Our Times says this ancient struggle is alive and well today. It shows up in constant scrolling, in working ourselves to exhaustion to avoid deeper questions, in chasing novelty because the present moment feels too heavy.
The Desert Fathers found the answer was to persevere through, but with far more than sheer willpower. Keep praying, even when prayer feels dry. Stay faithful to commitments, even when they feel heavy. Lean into your community rather than isolating from it. Practice humility and remember that perseverance is possible only by God’s grace.
What does this look like? When we feel the pull toward endless scrolling, we might instead text a friend or call a family member. When work feels meaningless, we can remember the people our efforts serve, even if indirectly. When prayer feels empty, we show up anyway, trusting that faithfulness itself has value beyond our feelings in the moment.
The noonday devil tempts us to think that only extraordinary lives matter. But as Oliver Burkeman points out in his idea of “cosmic insignificance therapy,” recognizing our smallness frees us to find profound meaning in ordinary acts.
The daily work of caring for children, preparing meals, or showing up for neighbors and friends carries as much weight as anything could. These acts may never make headlines, but in God’s eyes they shine with eternal value.
Persevering in small, steady commitments resists acedia and helps us discover joy in the very places where meaning often hides.
Psalm 91 carries a promise, “He shall cover thee with his feathers, and under his wings shalt thou trust.”
God invites us to rest beneath His wings, to trust Him in the heat of the day, and to discover joy at the very heart of our journey.
Faithfulness in the ordinary is never wasted. Under His wings, even the smallest acts take on eternal meaning.
h/t – Hallow app – Noonday Devil; Tim Ferris – Oliver Burkeman’s Cosmic Insignificance Therapy
Organizational culture, not technology, is the hardest part of innovation
How many of your projects are truly innovative? If you have any, what’s your success rate? Would you consider your success rate to be all-star caliber?
This baseball analogy is almost a cliché, but it holds up. A professional hitter with a .300 average is considered excellent (all-star?). That means they fail seven times out of ten.
Now imagine applying this to innovation. What if only 30% of your projects succeed? At first glance, that sounds like a losing record. But if the successful projects provide 10x productivity increases, transform your customer’s experience, or massively boost profitability…30% success would yield incredible results for your organization.
This is the kind of opportunity in front of us today with AI. Tools are maturing quickly. The potential is staggering. Every company, large or small, is beginning to experiment.
Some will tiptoe. Others will dive headfirst. All will face a mix of breakthroughs and busts.
There will be tools that don’t deliver on promises, pilots that fizzle, and teams that struggle with adoption. But there will also be amazing homeruns. Projects that reshape the business and redefine what’s possible.
Many leaders today are focusing on which AI tools to purchase and how to train their teams. That’s the easy part.
The harder part is creating space for both the hits and the strikeouts. If people feel they must succeed every time, they probably won’t swing at all. They’ll play it safe and stick with what they know.
Innovation will grind to a halt.
Providing room to fail doesn’t mean celebrating mistakes. It means making sure your team knows that experiments, even the ones that fall short, are part of making progress. Leaders who demand perfection get compliance. Leaders who make room for failure get innovation.
As you lead your organization into AI and beyond, remember that your job isn’t to guarantee every swing is a hit.
Your job is building a culture where people are willing to keep taking swings.
I recently turned 59. Not the big 60 milestone but knocking on the door. In honor of this “almost-milestone” birthday, here are 59 lessons or truths I’ve picked up along the way that may be helpful for you:
Family is the greatest treasure. I’ve learned this from countless dinners, phone calls, and quiet moments of simply being together.
Love grows when you give it away.
Small kindnesses matter more than big speeches. Holding a door, writing a note, or showing up means more than most people will admit.
A campfire has a way of pulling people closer. Some of our best conversations happened with smoke in our face and stars overhead.
Walks in the woods teach patience. The trail never hurries, but it always leads you somewhere good, even if the trail leads back to where you started.
Listening is often better than speaking.
Start, even if you don’t know the finish line.
Forgiveness frees the forgiver.
Work hard, but not so hard you miss the laughter at the dinner table. That laughter is life fuel.
Friendships need tending like gardens.
A calm mind shapes a calm day. How you manage your thoughts sets the tone for how you live, not just how you lead.
Prayer steadies shaky ground.
Scars are inevitable but can become footholds.
Your children and grandchildren remember the times you kept your word. Integrity is how love earns trust over a lifetime.
Music can heal a weary spirit.
Laughter with grandchildren is holy ground. Even the silliest joke can create amazing memories.
Take pictures but also put your phone down.
The best conversations happen unplanned, often on the way to somewhere else.
God shows up in ordinary moments.
Start with what you have, not what you lack.
Be quick to encourage. A word of encouragement can feel like oxygen to someone gasping for air.
Time with your spouse is the best investment you’ll ever make.
A sunrise reminds us the story isn’t over.
Be generous with money, with time, and with grace.
Don’t underestimate a good meal shared…even a bad meal shared.
Patience is a form of love.
Read good books slowly. And read them aloud. I’ll never forget the nights of reading Harry Potter chapters to my kids, one voice carrying us all to another world.
Children teach us as much as we teach them.
A soft answer turns away wrath.
Slow down for sunsets.
Stay curious, even at 59.
Hold babies gently, but often.
Let go of what you can’t control.
Keep your promises, even the small ones. If you can’t be trusted in the little things, no one will trust you with the big ones.
Coffee or a meal with a friend beats any meeting.
Rest is productive.
Gratitude doesn’t just brighten the day. It multiplies joy in ways you can’t measure. It shifts ordinary moments into holy ones.
The journey matters more than the finish line.
Never be too proud to say, “I was wrong.” Or “I don’t know.”
Faith isn’t about knowing all the answers.
Celebrate progress, not perfection.
Trails are better with company. I’ve seen some of the deepest conversations unfold at mile three.
Be the first to say “thank you.”
Find work you believe in, but don’t let it define you.
Love is the legacy worth leaving.
Don’t compare. Contentment is wealth.
Your words can build or break. Choose to build. Always.
A long hug can mend a broken heart. I’ve felt that healing in the arms of family.
Keep learning, keep growing. Continuous improvement matters. Even the smallest step forward is still forward.
Tradition ties generations together, especially if that tradition involves an old family recipe that takes hours and lots of teamwork to make.
Tell stories. Your family needs them. Stories pass down more than facts. They carry history and identity.
Choose wonder over cynicism.
You can’t outgive God, but you can follow His example.
Every season has its beauty. Even Oklahoma summers with their heat and humidity have sunsets worth pausing for (clearly I appreciate sunrises and sunsets).
Be present. Tomorrow isn’t promised.
Family trust is sacred. Break it once, and it may never return the same. Protect it as carefully as you protect your home.
Celebrate the small wins. A child’s smile, a project finished, or a quiet evening with family. Cherish these moments.
Joy often hides in the small, ordinary things.
Life is a gift. At every age, unwrap it with wonder.
4 Bonus Lessons (which means I came up with four more that I didn’t want to exclude)
Adapt or be left behind. If you’re the best buggy whip maker, prepare to adapt when automobiles come out. Don’t cling to the past so tightly that you miss the future.
The quiet miracle of savings and compound interest. Einstein was right. Compound interest is the most amazing thing. Steadily and quietly setting aside a portion of your income builds your wealth over time. It also provides peace of mind and freedom for your future self.
Learn outside your lane. Take time to study things that don’t seem connected to your work. The most important lessons often come from entirely different fields.
Travel opens two windows. When you visit a new country, you learn about their culture, their food, their people. But you also return seeing your own home differently…with gratitude, with perspective, and with fresh eyes.
Grandpa Bob Encouraging Leadership 
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