Like generations that preceded us, we too are tested: what will we do for the sake of others?

The common application of this question today relates to our planet — the long, complex, non-urgent problem of taking care of Earth. What are we doing today that will affect how future generations live?

But our more pressing test is in how we respond to a global pandemic. Beyond protecting ourselves and our families ... what will we do in service of others? How do we help to flatten the curve of a rapidly spreading virus?

Will we suffer the inconvenience of cancelling a vacation? Can we tolerate staying home instead of visiting the local pub? Will we buy only what we need so there is enough for others?

* * *

May we act in ways that will earn the gratitude of our neighbors today and of generations to come. May we be able to look back upon this time and to say, “See? Amidst monumental challenges and widespread tragedy, look how we rose to the occasion. Look at how the best of us drew forth from the best of ourselves ... for the sake of all of us.”

A short rant about email auto-replies.

“I will have limited access to email” is a phrase often used in out-of-office replies. I accept the statement, but I suspect that it’s rarely true.

Yes, there are times when we go off the grid. Into the woods. On a spaceship. Into a fallout shelter. Places without a signal, without Wi-Fi, and without Internet.

But these cases are atypical. When we say “access to email will be limited” what we usually mean is something like:

• I’m taking personal time and I won’t be checking business email.

• Responding to work emails while I’m travelling is a challenge. I might not reply until I return.

• I’m out-of-office, so I’m only replying to critical, time-sensitive messages.

I received a “limited email access” auto-reply yesterday. And more than likely, what the sender meant was, “We’ve been working remotely because of the COVID-19 pandemic. These are new challenges and we don’t have all the answers. We also don’t have a solid plan, and as a result my reply will likely be delayed.”

It wouldn’t have been the best marketing tactic, but I’d have respected the candor.

Amidst so much change and uncertainty, now is not the time for a canned auto-reply. Now is the time for leadership and clarity in communication.

There are enough problems — big and small — that we can spend all of our time in distress ... feeling overwhelmed and frustrated.

But it’s also possible for us to focus on just one problem — something worthy of our attention — and to bring the best of our skills and talents to bear upon that issue. To not throw our hands up in despair saying, “There’s too much. I can’t do it all,” but to open our hands and hearts and to say, “Here’s what I can do, and here’s how I can help."

“I can’t miss this appointment.”

“This event has to happen.”

“There’s no way we can postpone.”

Except that we fall ill. Or there’s a natural disaster. Or a pandemic. Or something else outside of our control.

And then our perspective shifts. What was once priority number one quickly finds its way to the back burner.

But amidst the challenges, we find that we’re rather resilient. That when so much is turned upside down, we surprise ourselves by remaining right side up. Or by learning how to see things upside down.

That in a world of constraints, we don’t shut down — we find ways to create beauty.

I’ve read this phrase a lot in the past week. “We will continue to monitor the situation closely.”

The pandemic we’re facing brings immense change and uncertainty. As a result, different organizations are adopting different strategies based on the latest news reports.

The hope, however, is that the leaders we trust are always monitoring relevant situations closely. That they’re always operating with their eyes open and making course corrections as necessary.

It’s what effective leaders do. Not just in times of global crisis.

But always.

If you planned to attend a two-hour event ... and it’s cancelled at the last minute ... what happens with that time?

Does that now-empty slot on your schedule fill itself with a scroll through the internet? An episode on Netflix? A trashy novel? A celebrity news feed?

Or does it become a fog where you’re not really sure how the time slips by?

In 1665, when Trinity College sent students home during the Great Plague of London, Isaac Newton worked on math problems which would become early calculus, as well as theories on optics and gravity. Yes, that theory on gravity.

We’re facing weeks, and potentially months of closures, cancellations, and schedule adjustments. Health and safety is our primary concern. But beyond that, many of us will have new, unoccupied time slots on our calendars.

How will we bring intention to that time? And how will we bring the best of who we are to our new schedules?

Lots of things are on pause, but we don’t have to be.

Sincere caring necessitates action.

When we pay lip service to an issue, but do nothing else, we’re pacifying a guilty conscience. Or we’re polishing how others perceive us in order to maintain social status.

When we care, we act.

Change doesn’t come from people caring; it comes from people acting when they care.

In an effort to fight the exponential spread of COVID-19, international health organizations are recommending social distancing. This helps fight the spread of a virus by maintaining physical distance between people. It worked in St. Louis to flatten the curve of the Spanish flu in 1918. It will help today, too.

Social distancing, however, does not mean that we are isolated. We live in a time where we are more connected than ever. But the onus is upon us to use technology to intentionally cultivate and maintain close social ties. To see each other. To listen to each other. Friends. Families. Community members. Strangers.

A period of separation is upon us, but our time for connection is more important than ever.

Wishing good health to you and the people you love.

If you’re not enrolled in a course where you can sit in the front, fully engaged, raising your hand, and asking questions ... then you’d be wise to revisit your course selection.

* * *

While this can apply to education, it’s much more powerful when read as a metaphor.

Just wait for something to fall into your lap. It will, and you’ll be pleased.

Of course ... before that moment, be sure to survey the field, cultivate the soil, plant the tree properly, tend to its growth, wait for the right time in the right season, get a sturdy basket, and enlist a helper to give the trunk a good shake while you sit below.

Then, just wait for something to fall into your lap.

It’s that easy.

Consider your self. You, in outline format.

What are the headers and sub-categories?

Are all the elements relevant? Are they in the right order? Is it the way you’d like it to be?

Is there something important to you that’s buried in a sub-division? Should it be a main point instead?

Or is something missing entirely? Perhaps it was on a previous draft, but was somehow forgotten in the current revision.

* * *

Editing a life is not as easy as editing a document. But seeing the overall structure is a good first step.

The world isn’t usually a panel discussion; it’s mostly an open mic night.

That is, there are few times that we will be called upon to speak.

More often, the microphone is available to us … but we need to walk up to it on our own.

No special invitation. No special introduction.

Just our convictions and our willingness to voice them.

We marvel at the example. “I wish I could do that,” or “What I if I looked like that?” or “It must be nice to have that thing.”

But when we do this, we focus on a result and we ignore:

• the countless hours of training.

• the mental toughness.

• the discipline.

• the sacrifice.

• the emotional labor.

• the early mornings and late nights.

• the dedication.

• the struggle.

In seeing only the harvest, we neglect to honor all the work that goes into bringing it forth.

There’s power in rest. In separating one’s self ... going into nature, finding quiet, being alone in thought.

Many of us keep the kind of busy schedules that make the idea of retreat seem impossible.

But if we can’t take a weekend away, what about an afternoon? Or maybe just an hour?

An hour of intentional thought, outside of normal routines, in a nearby park or a quiet corner not too far away?

How much good could that hour do for us? Centering our thoughts. Reconnecting with our purpose. Reengaging the best version of ourselves.

And that brief time of retreat — more than just ourselves — what happens when we give that as a gift? Creating time and opportunity for someone we care about to step away and to explore quiet?

A break can happen quickly. A broken bone, a broken commitment, a broken relationship ... it can happen in a flash.

But the mending never happens that way. It can’t. Healing takes time.

The break is quick; the healing is slow.

And while we can’t speed it along, remembering that it takes time might just help us to be patient.

When we offer our thoughts, we like to hear: “That’s a good idea.”

We need that affirmation. Sometimes we’re desperate to hear it.

Too often, however, we forget to say this to ourselves. We kill our own ideas before they have a chance. Or we look so hard for the perfect idea that the good ideas are ignored.

Let’s start here ... by reminding ourselves, “I have good ideas, and I can be a contribution.”

Not all badges should be worn on our chests.

Some should be kept on the inside of our jackets — close to our hearts — serving as reminders of who we are and who we have the potential to be.

Not a signal to others, but a signal to ourselves.

A man who works in my office building keeps to himself. In the hallways, he looks at his feet when we pass.

But last weekend, I saw him at an event. He had a yo-yo attached to his finger and he had a small audience completely captivated. As he put on the show, he was alive. Engaging. Conversational. Shining.

Different setting. Different presence.

* * *

Just because someone doesn’t shine where we encounter them ... doesn’t mean they don’t shine elsewhere. They may — and likely do — have remarkable qualities completely hidden from our view.

More than fifteen years ago, my wife and I sat in a sunlit shop choosing flowers for our wedding. The florist showed us many beautiful options.

And we said, “Ah. These are pretty. Oh, these are pretty, too. And these as well.”

After considering dozens of options, we finally realized: they’re flowers. They’re all pretty. We had to choose using another measure.

The lesson rings true years later. There are times in life when we have to choose from many good options, many qualified applicants, many attractive candidates. (We get to experience both sides of this.)

Inevitably, worthy candidates are turned away. Brilliant leaders, skilled artists, talented athletes, innovative change-makers ... like beautiful flowers: some are picked, some are not.

Of course, unlike flowers, we will have opportunities to pick ourselves. To give ourselves permission to start something new. To sidestep those who do the choosing, and to build something of our own.

How much are you leaving in the tank?

What’s that extra for?

Considering what you’re trying to do … do you need to hold on to that last little bit?

Or should you go for it, and give it everything you’ve got?

It doesn’t apply to everything, but some things are important enough to go all in.