Just because it runs like clockwork doesn’t mean you don’t have to wind the clock.

Why isn’t the autopilot feature working properly?

It could be that the pilot is still in his pajamas, eating breakfast.

Because there are times when it’s too early to ask the robots to take over.

Because the easy button is a shortcut that doesn’t always deliver satisfactory results.

Because even the best tools don’t necessarily eliminate the need for our participation.

* * *

Automation can be a valuable option; it’s not typically step one.

Experts say that in an emergency situation, when you need someone to call 9-1-1, there’s a better way than shouting, “Somebody call 9-1-1!” (Though this is instinctually the thing to say because it’s exactly what you need.)

Instead, the advice is to identify someone specifically, and to address them directly: “[You:] I need you to call 9-1-1.”

See the shift?

When we need “someone” to do something, no one takes ownership of the task. “‘Someone’ could be anyone, not necessarily me.” Said another way: on these occasions, don’t rely on people to self-select.

There are many non-emergency situations where we might borrow from this model.

Instead of, “We need a volunteer,” it’s, “Alex, are you able to help?”

Instead of, “Can someone email the customer?” it’s, “Morgan, can you please email the customer?”

Instead of, “I need help,” it’s “Can you please help me?”

There are times when giving others the opportunity to rise to the occasion on their own is generous.

It can also be useful to know we can bypass this dance with a more direct route when it’s appropriate.

Praise those who shine, but don’t forget to give credit to those who were instrumental in making it possible. Those who cultivated the soil. Those who set the stage. Those who created the opportunities.

The coaches, the mentors, the guides.

The flowers do the work of blooming, and we are awed. Moved. Inspired.

But remember, too, the quiet gardeners.

“Who’s it for? What’s it for?”

These are two of the most important questions we can ask when planning and facilitating. And when you’re familiar with these questions, you’ll find yourself using them as a point of reference — a lens of evaluation.

So often, we fall into the trap of doing things like they’ve been done before. Of following the perceived protocol. Of getting all the way to the end without pausing to ask, “Why are we doing this?” and “What’s the best way to accomplish our goal?”

Operating at the level of “repeat” or “whatever people usually do” is much easier — and it might be safer — but we’re likely missing some remarkable opportunities to do things even better.

In various ball sports, there’s a practice drill called “knock out.” You miss the ball or bobble it and you’re out. Make a bad pass, you’re out. Meanwhile, everyone else continues to play.

There’s competition and a winner, but there’s also an irony: the players who seemingly need more reps and improved skills are the players who tend to get knocked out.

The winners keep playing and the players keep getting better.

We’ll lose from time to time, that’s for sure. The thing to do is to get back in the game so you can keep playing and keep getting better.

In Michelangelo’s fresco, The Creation of Adam, we see God — with a whirlwind of energy and surrounding figures — stretching out his arm, reaching with an index finger to invigorate Adam with the spark of life.

Adam, reclined, barely lifts his own index finger in response.

Sometimes the world teems with opportunity, possibility, and support — energy beyond measure — and in our limited humanness, we can only offer a weak reply.

Thankfully, creation is patient, and will partner with us regardless.

H/T Fr. Mike Schmitz

Fire and brimstone can earn you a lot of attention. It might even gain compliance.

But mostly, it burns the exterior and erodes the interior.

The harder work is through encouragement. Through gaining enrollment. Through collaboration and nurturing the interior.

The results might seem similar, but the methods and outcomes are worlds apart.

With three children in the house, various belongings are often left where they don’t belong. For two weeks or so, I’ve noticed someone’s jacket by the back door, draped over a Wiffle ball bat. I’ve wondered: Which of my children has a blue jacket that looks like mine?

Last night, I noticed the jacket again and had a moment of realization. And indeed, the jacket was my own. (I still have no recollection of having left it there, though I’m sure I did.)

We can be quick to find others as the source of a problem — and a bit slower to identify the roles that we ourselves play. It’s easy to tag a problem as foreign when we don’t recognize our own participation.

It can certainly be about skill; often it is.

But so many times, the more consequential differentiators are desire, grit, and attitude. Skill is just one part of what it takes to win.

Getting what we want also means inheriting the consequences — benefits and burdens both.

Occasionally, those who love us will offer guidance when we’re unable (or unwilling) to see those consequences. Because the eagerness of getting what we want can dim our vision of what happens afterwards.

We foster community by cheerfully saying, “Hello!” By saying — before we even know each other — “I’m glad you’re here.” By learning names. By welcoming strangers.

Community doesn’t happen accidentally. It happens through small, intentional acts, little by little.

Sometimes, it doesn’t take long at all.

We don’t need to start strong, but it helps. Because with a strong start, we begin to tell ourselves a story of victory, achievement, and positive outcomes.

And when we can first see it in our mind, reality often begins to bend in that direction.

There’s a massive tree in my neighborhood. The sturdy trunk is so large, I can barely reach my arms halfway around it. And its crown? Majestic.

I marvel at the thought: this was once a sapling. No, even a seedling. And a seed!

The life progression is clear and undeniable, yet it still seems impossible. Once so small. So vulnerable. So uncertain. And now, undeniably present.

Like so many of our projects, endeavors, and relationships — what is now in full maturity was once just a whisper of life.

A dentist should have great teeth.
A barber should have a great haircut.

The funny thing is, for the most part, dentists and barbers don’t do work on themselves.

But we expect people in the business to have their houses in order.

How we present ourselves isn’t always indicative of the skills we bring to the table. Sometimes it’s just part of the show people expect to see.

How are you?

It’s a relevant question, and one that we’re asked often. Sometimes people care to know the answer. Other times, it’s asked in passing.

Now then. Who are you?

Not your name. Not your position. Rather, the you that resides beneath these labels.

Pause to notice: it’s all too easy to mix up who we are with how we are. For better or worse.

But they’re not the same.

How we are in a given moment does not always reflect who we are.

The variable texture of the surface can mask the true nature of the depths.

When you’re thinking really hard for something to say, you’ll eventually come up with something.

Also important to note: our mouths have a soundless “closed feature” that comes in handy when what we’ve come up with isn’t particularly helpful.

Words aren’t always necessary; sometimes the way forward is wordless.

The nurse in the post-surgical recovery area said to her patient, “You are an all-star. I’d love for all my patients to be like you.”

Which prompts the question: what does it mean for us to be an all-star patient? It certainly doesn’t mean that we’re not ill, or that we’re not in need of medical assistance. No. It’s about what we can control. It’s about our attitude. About our fight. About our friendliness and willingness to cooperate.

Even through struggle. Even amidst hardship. Even when we’re vulnerable.

To be the kind of person that others appreciate doesn’t require us to be perfect, or even feeling our best. It’s about how we show up with what we have.

I was at a sporting event where a teenage athlete used obscene language and was promptly ejected from the game. The official acted without hesitation.

I looked. Sure enough, the venue’s rules and regulations were clear about player, fan, and staff conduct. Consequences were crystal, too.

What I appreciated about the experience was the clear establishment of a kind of culture. “This is what we expect. This is what’s OK. This is what’s unacceptable.”

That kind of clarity keeps everyone in sync. It also skips past the awkwardness of people quietly asking, “Is this allowed? Why isn’t someone doing something about this?”

Culture is about how we do things. It’s also about what we’ve decided we don’t do.

Sometimes, you just get beat. You’re outsized and outmatched. Winning isn’t a likely possibility. But if you play your best, you can still hold your head high.

The tough ones are when you lose. When you had your opportunity and you just didn’t do the job. For whatever reason. Those are the ones you wish you could get back, because you had a real chance.

Not all losses are equal. Some sting a little more. Some should sting a little less.