The Ordinary Impact

I saw a shirt in a local coffee shop that said #BetterTogether across the back. And I believe that. I really do. Unity. Community. Togetherness. These are all better than isolation, division, or just going it alone. But, full disclosure, my circle is small. Not because I don’t care about people, but because trust is hard sometimes . I believe in community, but I don’t always fully embrace it. There are moments I hold back. Because being #BetterT ogether sounds nice… Until someone challenges our opinion, our politics, our preferences, or even our parenting. Then, suddenly, it’s #BetterApart, or #BetterQuiet , or #BetterGone . Because togetherness isn’t just about gathering. It’s about growing. And that requires humility. It means admitting we don’t have it all figured out. It means being open to change, not just in others, but in ourselves. And that’s a lot harder than wearing a shirt with a hashtag on the back. Too many times, we default to living more like #BetterIfYo...

I got it wrong. Not in the dramatic, headline-making kind of way. But in the quiet, frustrating kind. The kind where you miss something you wish you’d caught. The kind where you replay the timeline in your head—trying to figure out how, when, why you didn’t see it. I care deeply about the things I commit to. I try to be prepared. Thorough. Attentive. But I missed something this time. And that miss had consequences. It was humbling. Embarrassing. Disappointing. And it meant having to step away from something I genuinely wanted. Not because I didn’t have the passion or the experience— but because I missed a step that mattered. And that part was on me. So I did what I’ve had to do before—what most of us will have to do at some point: I owned it. I apologized. And I reminded myself that doing the right thing doesn’t always feel good in the moment. But it’s still the right thing. Here’s the thing I’m learning: Messing up isn’t the end of your integrity. But hiding it—or pretending...

There’s a kind of quiet courage that rarely gets noticed. It’s the courage to be boring . Not dull or uninspired—but steady. Dependable.  The kind of boring that shows up when it’s not glamorous. That keeps the rhythm when no one’s clapping. That stands in the same place—like a lighthouse—through storm and sun. I’ve been thinking about this ever since I rewatched an old episode of Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood . Day after day, he opened the same door, sang the same song, changed into the same sweater—and somehow, it never felt small. It felt safe. Sacred, even. He once said, “ It’s not the honors and the prizes and the fancy outsides of life which ultimately nourish our souls. It’s the knowing that we can be trusted. ” That line has stuck with me. Because we live in a culture that celebrates the big moment, the viral clip, the dazzling change.  But most of what really matters—relationships, leadership, parenting, growth—isn’t built in the breakthrough. It’s built in the repetiti...

The idea of community intrigues me. We long to be individuals who are unique and independent, but in the long-term all of that feels empty. We all are drawn back to a community of people with whom we desire to share our stories. It's as if our memories didn't happen unless we share them. Social media has become irreplaceable and addictive today because it meets a need in all of us for community. I hear the naysayers (like myself) already: "Social media is not really community. Community is face-to-face connection, which what a generation of young people are missing." However, at it's very best, we use to to connect and stay in contact with a community of people. Essentially, we are able to shrink the world and use social media to be more inclusive and embracing of a community of people that we cannot regularly connect with face-to-face. We need community. We are drawn to it because we are wired for it. Family. Friends. Connection. Communication. Community. ...