Search Blog

The other day, I was driving home when a woman suddenly pulled out in front of me. I had to slam on the brakes to avoid a crash. My heart raced, and yes, I lay on the horn. I went out of control to gain control. I was reacting out of my emotions without any logic or intellect. It didn’t help my situation at all.   Another time, frustrated by a congested intersection, I started using a shortcut on a private road to get to my office. It worked, until one morning I saw a police officer ahead with three cars already pulled over. I was already running late. Now I imagined my insurance going up, my clean driving record ruined. I had every excuse; no signs warned that it was a private road.   After slowly working through the other drivers, the officer finally got to me. Nothing I said made a difference. “Tell it to the judge,” he said with a smile.   I was fuming, caught in the heat of injustice and frustration. But later, after I calmed down and handled what needed to be done at work, I realized: I couldn’t change what happened. I could choose to feel bad the next few days because of what I felt was done to me. But I can’t undo what has already been done.   So what... now what?   It turned out I didn’t receive a fine, just a short driving probation. But at that moment, my anxious brain had clouded my ability to think clearly.   Life throws moments like that at me often, things that block my path, disrupt my plan, or provoke an emotional reaction.   That question, “So what… now what?”  helps me reset. It shifts me from holding on to what I can’t change, from emotion to clarity. It doesn’t erase the pain, but it helps me take the next step.   Big or small, setbacks will come. But when I slow down and ask the right question, my emotions settle, and my intellect takes over.   Watch for the blind spots.   👀 Don’t wait to uncover what you don’t know you don’t know! 💡 Blind Spots in Relationships,  get your copy today,  http://tinyurl.com/yc3usfsp

Embarrassingly, I tell you this story. Years ago, I was in a leadership role at work. I was sharp, confident, and eager to make things happen. I spoke up often, offered solutions quickly, and made decisions without much hesitation. I believed I was doing well, carrying myself with clarity and conviction. But over time, I started to notice something. In meetings, people would nod politely. They rarely pushed back or offered a different view. I assumed they agreed with me. The truth?  They didn’t feel safe disagreeing. And I wasn’t inviting feedback; I was moving so fast that I never paused long enough to truly listen. It wasn’t until a newer colleague quietly asked in a meeting, “Has anyone actually looked at the data on this?,”  then things shifted. There was a pause. Then others began to speak up, respectfully, but honestly. It became clear that some of the things I had championed weren’t working. And people had known for a while. I felt exposed, not attacked, but unmasked. I had been so focused on appearing capable that I hadn’t seen how alone I’d become in my decisions. I mistook silence for support. I believed I was leading, but I wasn’t connecting. That experience reminded me of the fable “ The Emperor’s New Clothes .” Not because I was arrogant, but because I didn’t know what I didn’t know. I’d created an image of strength, and others didn’t want to be the one to break the illusion. But when someone finally did, it became one of the most critical moments in my growth. Since then, I’ve learned to ask better questions. I listen more deeply. I check my assumptions. And I welcome honest feedback, not as a threat, but as a gift for personal growth. This is so true for me today because leadership has more to do with emotional connection than knowledge. Another way to look at today’s leadership isn’t about walking forward in pride. It is about having the humility to stop, listen, and walk forward together, this time with eyes wide open. Watch for the blind spots.   👀 Don’t wait to uncover what you don’t know you don’t know! 💡 Blind Spots in Relationships,  get your copy today,  http://tinyurl.com/yc3usfsp

I often find myself in a snit over things I can’t control. Life can feel unfair, especially when I compare myself to others, usually those who seem to have more, do better, or face fewer obstacles. That comparison never leads anywhere good. It only stirs up frustration and self-pity.   Life doesn’t ask if I’m ready, it just shows up. Some days it arrives in the form of traffic that makes me late. Other days, it’s bad weather that ruins my plans, or a rude comment from a coworker that lingers in my mind longer than it should. It might be a missed opportunity, an unexpected bill, or a tense conversation with someone I care about. I’m constantly bombarded by circumstances I didn’t choose.   But here’s what I’m learning: the better me I build, the better I can handle what I didn’t expect. When I’m tired, stressed, or anxious, even a minor inconvenience can feel like the final straw. But when I’m grounded, when I know who I am and what I value, I can respond instead of react.   A better me doesn’t blame others, doesn’t make excuses, or fall into victimhood. A better me accepts that life happens and that I’m still responsible for how I show up. I’m not immune to difficult people or frustrating days, but I can grow emotional muscles the same way I build physical strength, with consistency, awareness, and deliberate practice.   Traffic, weather, disappointments, delays, unmet expectations, and even my moods and insecurities, these are the weights I lift every day. I can let them wear me down, or I can let them train me. None of these circumstances has the final say unless I give it to them.   I like the idea of redesigning my mood on the fly. After all, I choose how I act and how I react. So, I ask myself: what version of me do I want handling these moments? What habits, beliefs, and mindset do I need to keep strengthening? I can’t control the storm, but I can build a better me who knows how to walk through it.   Watch for the blind spots.   👀 Don’t wait to uncover what you don’t know you don’t know! 💡 Blind Spots in Relationships,  get your copy today,  http://tinyurl.com/yc3usfsp

Not every laugh is shared. Not every cut leaves a visible scar.   Jordan showed up to work tired and unusually quiet. Typically, upbeat and productive, today felt different. He decided to take things slow and catch up on smaller tasks, hoping a calmer pace would help him reset.   Later that morning, his coworker Dana walked by his desk, glanced around, and said with a smirk, “Wow, looks like someone’s been working hard today.”   Jordan didn’t reply. He had hoped Dana might ask how he was doing, or at least not assume he was lazy. But Dana kept going, chuckling, “What’s wrong? Can’t you take a joke?”   What Dana didn’t know was that Jordan had barely slept, was feeling overwhelmed, and was doing his best to hold things together. But instead of curiosity or empathy, she defaulted to sarcasm, a tool I once used frequently myself. I thought I was being funny, but sarcasm can cut like a knife. When someone took offense, I’d hide behind the excuse, “It was just a joke.”   Sarcasm is verbal irony, saying the opposite of what you mean, often in a mocking tone. While it might be intended as humor, the meaning often gets lost. A comment meant as playful banter can land as harsh criticism, leaving the other person feeling misunderstood or undervalued. Over time, repeated sarcasm creates emotional distance, whether in friendships, at work, or home.   Workplace culture often tolerates sarcasm, even rewards it as clever banter. But if only one person laughs, it’s not humor, it’s a dig. Jordan and Dana spent the rest of the day avoiding each other. What could’ve been a moment for connection became a missed opportunity.   A better approach?  Ask questions. Be curious. Express frustration or expectations directly. Genuine humor brings people closer, while sarcasm often builds walls.   I’ve learned that for any relationship, personal or professional, to thrive, sincere communication and genuine humor must replace sarcastic jabs.   Watch for the blind spots.   👀 Don’t wait to uncover what you don’t know you don’t know! 💡 Blind Spots in Relationships,  get your copy today,  http://tinyurl.com/yc3usfsp

Not all stories are told with words. Some of the most powerful ones never are.   Our sermon today focused on stories expressed through art, and how art shows up in many forms.   I recently sat behind my favorite family in church: Mom, Dad, and three kids. The youngest was restless. The middle one kept whispering. The parents didn’t raise their voices or give harsh looks. The father gently placed his hand on his son’s back. The mother leaned in and whispered. They exchanged glances, not with frustration, but with quiet agreement.   Then the dad softly placed his arm around the mom, and they leaned into each other. It was clear: love lived here. Patience lived here. Respect lived here. No one spoke, but they showed a powerful story.   That family modeled something beautiful, a story without a single word.   I experience stories all the time. I can walk into a room and feel if someone is angry with me before a single syllable is spoken. I can sense when someone is distracted, irritated, or hurting. And I can feel love in the smallest gestures: a hand lingering on a shoulder, a shared glance, a quiet sacrifice made without acknowledgment.   We show “I love you” by packing a lunch, remembering a detail, or waiting patiently when we’d rather rush. We show “I’m angry” with silence, a slammed cabinet, or a furrowed brow. We show “You matter” when we put down our phones and lean in to listen. We show “You are upsetting me” when we withhold, avoid, or shut down. We show “I want more connection” or “less pressure” by how close or distant we become.   We show others how we want to live, not just by what we say, but by what we tolerate, what we prioritize, and how we treat people when no one’s watching.   Every day, I’m telling a story through my tone, my timing, my attention, and my choices.   The question is: Is it the story I want others to remember?   Watch for the blind spots.   👀 Don’t wait to uncover what you don’t know you don’t know! 💡 Blind Spots in Relationships,  get your copy today,  http://tinyurl.com/yc3usfsp

I used to walk past our general manager’s corner office every morning and feel a mix of excitement, desire, and envy, perhaps all at once. The leather chairs, glass walls, and nameplate in bold font all whispered success. This was the next step in my hierarchy. I told myself I wanted it because I had earned it. That if I landed that office, I’d finally feel like I mattered, I had arrived.   One night, I sat alone in my very nice corner office, sipping cold coffee, and asked myself: “Why do I want it so badly?”   The answer came quieter than I expected: It’s not the office. It’s what I believe it says about me that  I’m important. That I’ve outgrown the version of myself who felt invisible around the dinner table. That I’ve made it.   That was the moment I realized what I was chasing wasn’t the office. It was my self-worth. Validation. A sense of being seen. I didn’t need his corner office. I needed to believe I had value.   Coveting is sneaky. It hides behind ambition, admiration, even hope. But what it often reveals is what I lack: respect, acceptance, safety, belonging.   And it doesn’t stop there.   Coveting breeds discontent. It warps my relationships. I start comparing, resenting, and silently competing with others. It tempts me to act outside my values to get what I think will fix me. Worst of all, it’s a trap. Because even if I do get what I long for, the peace is short-lived. The ache returns. The target moves.   I’ve learned to ask better questions.   What am I honestly longing for?   What story am I telling myself about why I don’t have it?   What deeper need is underneath this desire?   The antidote to coveting is curiosity. It’s honesty. Sometimes, it’s grief. And often, it’s gratitude for what is already good in my life, waiting to be seen.   I’m still very ambitious. But I’ve stopped chasing symbols. Now, I chase what’s meaningful.   What pulls me toward wholeness, not just success? What would I regret not doing, even if no one else saw it? Watch for the blind spots.   👀 Don’t wait to uncover what you don’t know you don’t know! 💡 Blind Spots in Relationships,  get your copy today,  http://tinyurl.com/yc3usfsp

I've noticed that when something isn't working in a relationship, my instinct is to repeat the same behavior, maybe louder and with more emphasis, hoping for a better result. But doing the same thing over and over creates a predictable pattern. I speak; they react. They speak; I shut down. Round and round we go in the same emotional orbit.   This orbit becomes familiar, even when it's frustrating. And over time, it drains connection and deepens resentment.   I've learned that when I become aware that the pattern isn't working, I've a choice. I can try something different. I call this changing my orbit .   That might mean I stay calm instead of escalating the situation. Or I speak up kindly instead of withdrawing. It might mean I stop trying to win and start listening. This new approach can feel unnatural at first, both to me and the other person. And sometimes, they'll resist it. They may try to pull the relationship back into the old orbit because it feels safer.   However, if I want a new outcome, I must stay the course.   Real change only comes with consistency. When I hold to the new path — calm, curious, and clear — I start to notice something: the tension begins to drop. Defensiveness softens. Honest connection becomes possible.   Sometimes, a slight shift, such as writing instead of arguing face-to-face, can reduce anxiety and allow logic to return. (I often ask couples to keep a notebook handy to write their point of view for the other to read, which slows the communications down and reduces anxiety.)  At other times, it's simply refusing to be baited into the same old argument.   The truth is, changing orbits takes courage. But sustained change is what creates healthier relationships, built on safety, respect, and growth.   No, it's not easy. But it is worth it.   I'm learning to recognize what isn't working and to act intentionally, rather than habitually. When I do, I give myself and others the chance to create something better, one new orbit at a time.   Watch for the blind spots.   👀 Don’t wait to uncover what you don’t know you don’t know! 💡 Blind Spots in Relationships,  get your copy today,  http://tinyurl.com/yc3usfsp

I was recently discussing legacy with a friend, considering what I’ll leave behind, how I’ll be remembered, and the impact I’m making on others. He said something that stopped me in my tracks: “You’re writing your legacy every day, in everything you say and do, whether you realize it or not.” That truth hit home. I used to think of legacy as something reserved for the famous, business moguls, artists, educators, political leaders, and world-changers. But I’ve come to see that legacy isn’t limited to the extraordinary. Ordinary people leave a remarkable impact, sometimes through a word, a gesture, a simple presence that’s felt and remembered. Here’s the truth I can’t ignore. I’m writing the script others will use to describe me, not with grand accomplishments, but in the quiet consistency of how I show up, how I treat others, and how I respond to life. And sometimes, the lines I write aren’t so flattering. When someone offers me feedback, especially the kind that feels negative, it’s tempting to shut down, explain myself, or dismiss it. But every time I do that, I lose an opportunity to grow. I remain unaware of how others perceive me. That’s why I wrote the book Blind Spots in Relationships.  Because I know how easy it is to see myself only through my lens, my intentions, my logic, my perspective. But legacy doesn’t live in what I meant to do. It lives in what others felt when they were around me. So, I ask myself regularly: How am I coming across? Where am I blind to the impact I’m having? What feedback am I resisting that might help me grow? Legacy isn’t someday. It’s right now. I’m writing it with every decision, every conversation, every day. I want to build a better me, one page at a time. I remind myself often that I am writing the script, others use to talk about me. Watch for the blind spots. 👀 Don’t wait to uncover what you don’t know you don’t know! 💡 Blind Spots in Relationships,  get your copy today,  http://tinyurl.com/yc3usfsp

I have found that when someone is hurt, frustrated, or overwhelmed, they don’t need solutions; they need connection. One of the most powerful tools for creating that connection is asking gently curious questions.   These questions, especially when combined with safe listening , allow us to explore another person’s inner world without judgment or pressure. They create space for deeper understanding, both for them and for us.   An emotional person cannot hear facts. Trying to “fix” someone in distress usually backfires, raising their anxiety and triggering our own. That tension can lead to defensiveness, distance, or even arguments, exacerbating the situation.   For example, if someone says, “I’m not smart,”  our instinct might be to correct them: “Of course you are!” But that can feel invalidating. Instead, a gentle, curious approach might be:   “How long have you felt that way?”   “What do your grades tell you?”   “How come you think I see you that way?”   What else are you frustrated or worried about?   Notice the difference. We’re not correcting. We’re exploring. The more an anxious person hears their own voice, the more they talk themselves down.   It’s also important to avoid leading with “why.” “Why”  often sounds like a challenge: “Why are you late?”  or “Why didn’t you call me back?” can trigger shame or resistance. Try instead:   “Help me understand…”   “What else can you tell me?”   “What do you need from me right now?”   Let the answers guide your next gently curious question. This is not an easy concept to learn or practice. It is counterintuitive. Don’t rush to correct or advise. Trust the process. After the emotional energy has softened, perhaps in two hours, you can revisit the topic and offer your perspective with greater impact.   Our culture, because we don’t want to see our loved ones in pain or suffering, tends to fix the anxious person. Anxious people don’t want to be fixed; they want to be rid of their anxiety.   Gently curious questions don’t just reduce anxiety, they build trust, reveal blind spots, and create the safety that makes real change possible.   Watch for the blind spots.   👀 Don’t wait to uncover what you don’t know you don’t know! 💡 Blind Spots in Relationships,  get your copy today,  http://tinyurl.com/yc3usfsp

This weekend reminded me how healing is possible, even in relationships once marked by distance and pain.   Not long ago, I sat with a father and son who were clearly struggling. Misunderstandings and past choices had driven a wedge between them. As I listened, I couldn’t help but reflect on my own journey with my older son. We, too, had gone through a difficult season; one filled with conflict, hurt, and long silences. It wasn’t easy, but over time, love found its way back. My relationships with all my sons are now filled with connection and peace. That’s why I believe healing is possible, not just for me, but for the father and son I met, and for countless others, also. It has taken time, patience, perseverance, and prayer. Today, I love every conversation and visit we have.   That hope was deepened this weekend when my sister came to visit. It had been almost two years since we had one-on-one time. She’s a few years older, with memories of our grandparents and early family life that differ from mine. As we flipped through old photo albums, we laughed, cried, and filled in the missing pieces of each other’s stories. There’s something sacred about old photographs, they unlock forgotten moments and remind us of stories that separate and heal. I call it a trip down memory lane.   I grew up in a family of six siblings, three boys and three girls, spanning twelve years. Like most families, we had our share of rivalries, but we were rooted in love. Our parents weren’t perfect, but they gave us what mattered most: belonging.   Today, only two sisters and I remain. We don’t gather often, but when we do, it’s a reminder of the bond we still share. I know not all families experience that kind of connection, but I also know it’s never too late to reach out.   Even if things are broken, peace can still grow. Healing may take time, but it begins with one small step. The door to restoration may be closer than you think.   Watch for the blind spots.   👀 Don’t wait to uncover what you don’t know you don’t know! 💡 Blind Spots in Relationships,  get your copy today,  http://tinyurl.com/yc3usfsp

Regrets in my life have felt like an ache buried deep in my bones, dull, persistent pain that never entirely leaves. I've sat with others who have told me they've carried regret for decades. Some mourn the things they did, the words they said in anger, the bridges they burned, and the people they hurt. Others ache for what they didn't  do, dreams they delayed, love they didn't express, risks they avoided.   Jim Rohn said, "We must all suffer one of two pains: the pain of discipline or the pain of regret. The difference is discipline weighs ounces while regret weighs tons."  And those tons settle into my bones when I ignore life's quiet signals.   Darren Hardy reminds me that life compounds over time. Small daily choices either build a legacy or leave a trail of "what ifs."  Regret is often the accumulation of blind spots I ignored, the moments I didn't take the time to reflect on myself, the times I believed I had more time.   As I've written before, blind spots are the things I don't know, I don't know. They hide in my patterns and justifications. And when I finally see them, it’s too late, I realize the cost. The aches set in.   But here's the good news: while regret is heavy, it also serves as a compass. If I listen to it with courage and empathy, it shows me where I wasn't aligned with my deeper values. It calls me not to shame, but to action.  I can't undo the past, but I can learn  from it. I can close the gap between who I was and who I am becoming.   That's the work of emotional maturity: being honest about my choices, gentle with my humanity, and bold enough to do life differently.   If regret is aching in your bones today, I suggest you don't push it away. Sit with it. Let regret speak. Then, decide what you will  do while you still can.   Because nothing is heavier than the regret of a life unlived.   Watch for the blind spots.   👀 Don’t wait to uncover what you don’t know you don’t know! 💡 Blind Spots in Relationships,  get your copy today,  http://tinyurl.com/yc3usfsp

Have you ever been in a frustrating relationship where the other person didn’t understand your reasoning?   I certainly have. And more than once, I’ve fallen into the trap of thinking that if they would change, things would get better. I knew exactly what they should do to fix the problem. But the more I tried to convince them, the more they resisted. I would think, “What is wrong with them?”  Maybe they were stubborn. Perhaps they didn’t listen. Whatever it was, I would exhaust myself trying to get them to see things my way.   Looking back, I realize how blind I was to my role in the conflict. I was a one-trick pony, wanting it my  way, convinced that if I could persuade them, we would have peace. But pushing others rarely works. It often makes things worse.   That was one of my blind spots.   Now I can see this pattern so clearly in others, arguing about things that don’t matter while the real issue stays hidden. The elephant in the room is usually old resentments, unresolved hurts, or something that hasn’t been named or healed.   So, what is the answer?   It’s not out there, it’s with the person we see in the mirror. I’m the one who needs to change first. When I try to “win” by overpowering or outarguing the other, I usually end up losing and causing them to lose also.   But when I shift my focus from trying to fix them to asking, “What can I do differently?” , everything begins to change.   The real power comes from choosing a win-win approach.   I recently sat with a couple who were in conflict. But when they paused to name what they appreciated about each other, their entire energy changed. They smiled. They relaxed. The tension eased. Appreciation helped them reconnect.   Anyone can interrupt conflict by showing appreciation, listening deeply, praying out loud or simply being willing to see their part.   It’s not the typical response in a heated moment, but it works. Be different. Take the lead.   Watch for the blind spots.   👀 Don’t wait to uncover what you don’t know you don’t know! 💡 Blind Spots in Relationships,  get your copy today,  http://tinyurl.com/yc3usfsp