Reflection

My wife posted this picture on Facebook the other day to celebrate our 31st wedding anniversary.

When I looked at it, I saw two kids who had just gotten married. And it made me wonder what they were thinking about back then.

What were their goals?

Obviously, we knew we wanted to spend our lives together. We knew we wanted kids. We were fortunate to end up with three amazing ones, who are now adults. Hard to believe.

Time really does fly.

But beyond that, what did those two kids expect their lives to look like?

If I’m honest, I’m not sure I had clear goals at the time. My plan was simple. Find a good job. Turn it into a career. Retire someday and enjoy life together.

Looking back now, I sometimes wonder if those were really goals, or if I was just following the script most people assume they’re supposed to follow.

I don’t regret the journey. It shaped who I am today.

But if I could hop into Mr. Peabody’s Wayback Machine and talk to my younger self, I think the conversation would be interesting.

You hear people say all the time that if you find something you love, you’ll never work a day in your life.

Maybe.

But have you ever fallen out of love with something?

Would music still feel the same if it came with deadlines and pressure? Would woodworking still bring joy if you had to produce the same pieces every day just to keep up with orders?

Some people absolutely find something they love and turn it into a career. That’s fantastic when it happens.

But I’ve come to believe something slightly different.

Instead of chasing passion, chase purpose.

Purpose is different. You don’t fall out of love with it because it’s tied to who you are at your core. It might show up in different ways throughout your life, but the underlying drive never really leaves.

My own career started almost by accident.

A close friend of mine worked at AST Computers. They were hiring for the service desk and, as he put it, they “needed warm bodies.” I knew almost nothing about computers at the time, but he gave me a quick crash course so I could survive the interview.

His advice was simple.

Once you get hired, you’re their problem to train.

It worked.

The funny part is that I discovered I was actually pretty good at it. That toss of the dice turned into nearly three decades working in technology.

Throughout those years, the common thread was always the same. Helping people solve problems.

Sometimes that meant answering calls on the service desk. Sometimes it meant building technical solutions. Later it meant managing teams responsible for keeping critical systems running.

One moment during my time at L-3 stuck with me.

My boss once pointed to a picture on the wall. It showed a pilot sitting in the seat of a Blackhawk helicopter with a small child.

He pointed at the child and said, “That’s who we work for. So his dad can come home safe.”

That perspective stayed with me. From that point on, I tried to understand who the real customer was and how the work my team and I were doing affected their lives.

Outside of work, volunteering was always important to me. My church and the Boy Scouts were a big part of my life. The goal there was simple.

Help young people learn skills that might shape their futures. Maybe a life skill. Maybe a hobby. Maybe even a career.

Help prepare the next generation to become capable, thoughtful adults.

Then my last corporate role ended.

The best way I can describe it is an F1 crash. Parts flying everywhere.

For a while I honestly didn’t know what was next.

Eventually I pivoted and started a business helping people who find themselves asking the same questions I had to ask. People who feel stuck. Burned out. Or simply curious about what else might be possible.

What I eventually realized is that my purpose had been there all along.

Helping people.

Helping them solve problems. Helping them see possibilities. Helping them move forward.

Today I get to do that every day through my business.

And that’s why I believe it’s never too late to pivot. It’s never too late to recognize what truly drives you and build your life around it.

Beth, thank you for sharing that photo and giving me the gift of reflection.

I’m looking forward to the next 30 years.