As you go through life you are bound to encounter certain people who are larger than life. I’ve been blessed to have this happen several times. Today I wanted to focus in on a man I met over 30 years ago. I was a nobody and he was a somebody. But from the first day I met him, he treated me like I was the most important person in his life.

As luck and fate would have it, he eventually became one of my bosses. Working with him every day made my job exponentially more fun. He had a proven record of success and he graciously shared his expertise with everyone.

His success was based on his ability to communicate. His command of a room was exemplary. Whether it was a conference room or an arena, he had the listener captivated. He inspired, motivated and made you want to be a better employee. More importantly he drove you to be a better person. Before Jordan came along, I (and many others), wanted to be like Mike.

I could share dozens of stories of Mike’s ability to motivate, to lead by example, and to achieve successful results. He often reminded me of a swan. A swan will glide across the water with pure grace. Under the water the swan is paddling madly, but above the water that fury goes undetected. Mike handled his role the same way. Never showed stress and always looked in control.

I moved on after a few years, but we always kept in touch. He never forgot a birthday, a promotion or just reaching out to check on me. When my son was born, Mike was like an uncle. He took my son to the movies or out for ice cream. Mike organized a group to go to Tennessee for a Vols game more than once and included everyone’s kids on the trip. A memory neither me or my son would forget. Mike and his beautiful wife even flew 1000 miles to attend my son’s wedding.

I’ve tried to paint a picture of a successful man who has touched thousands of lives and made a difference. He did this by always being positive. His attitude never waivered no matter the circumstances. Over the years, he has met all of his health challenges with a “glass half full” persona. There has been no mountain too high for him to scale.

He has been a role model in every sense of the phrase. You could never leave Mike without him making you smile So allow me to tell you a story that always makes me smile. I hope it will make you smile as well.

We had just left a restaurant where all the wait staff were magicians. The menus were handkerchiefs used as props by the magicians. They were collected after we ordered. So we thought. Following the delicious meal and table show we walked out into the chill of a biting January wind. Our little group was walking behind Mike when he turned and said, “I have a magic trick of my own.”

He began waving his hands in front of his stomach and then dropped them to his fly. With a deft touch he unzipped his pants to a gasp from the female in the crowd. Then with an “Abracadabra and a Voillee” he began pulling something out of his trousers. It was the menu the waiter was supposed to have collected from each of us. This may not seem funny to you the reader, but to us it was Mike at his finest. Never missing a chance to provide his audience with a memorable moment. I’ll never forget that magical evening, capped off by Magic Mike.

That was just one example of a man who has given so many memories and so much of himself to every person he has touched. More than 30 years later I am still learning from him. We should all want to be like Mike. God Bless you Mike.

Until next time…

Have you ever been inside a washing machine? No? Neither have I. But sometimes I feel like I am. These days, I go to bed feeling like my brain has been jammed into a load of dirty, smelly clothing. Then it’s tossed around with suds and water to a point I can’t keep my head above the moisture. Then comes the spin cycle. In many regards, this is the worst part. Following this stage the garment is pulled from the machine. At this point, you do your best to make what came out of the machine look and smell better than when it went in. I’m fairly certain this is where someone or something came up with the name “spin.”

Rarely are things exactly as we are told. Most things come to us following the media spin cycle. I am being kind when saying I take everything with a grain of salt. Frankly, today I have a hard time knowing what is a fact. Whether to affect a viewpoint or produce clicks, statistics and story lines are manipulated to tell the story the writer wants to tell.

I rarely watch news of any kind because each network has their own spin. As bad as the media is, politicians are equally horrible. A politician admitting they are wrong about anything doesn’t exist. Here are more examples of spin in today’s world:

• An incorrect news story runs on the front page of a newspaper. It is proven to be false. A few days later on the back page of a different section of the paper a correction admitting certain facts were incorrect appears.
• An interview is conducted on a broadcast. The interview is edited to create a story that wasn’t the intent or crux of the interviewee’s message. The interviewee complains and is accused of sour grapes, or being a liar.
• Facts about a certain subject (climate change, unemployment, inflation, illegal immigration, etc.) are told only from one side. The reader or viewer must decide and discern what they want to believe.
• If you believe something someone else doesn’t believe you may be labeled.
• Labels have always been a way to silence people.

Conspiracy Theorist, Racist, Phobic, Denier, Hoaxer, are just a few examples of the labels permeating the lexicon. They are used regularly and often flippantly. They have lost their impact and relevance.

Between the spin and the labels we now find ourselves in the most divisive times of my life. So what do we do about it?

This spin cycle reminds me of pulling a sheet from the washer. Sometimes it is so twisted and gnarled it is unrecognizable as a bedsheet. It takes time to unwind, pull and straighten out. This is what we need to remember as the media spins and the labels are projected.

• Review the data and make your own informed decisions
• Don’t believe everything you read, see or hear
• Don’t lose faith, but verify your resources
• Understand the root cause and effects of the information presented before you. In other words what is the reason behind the intent of the story. Who is trying to be influenced?
• Don’t be silenced
• Believe in your convictions and in yourself.

Until next time…

It’s getting to be that time of year. Harvests across the Heartland are in full gear. Leaves are turning red and gold and Thanksgiving is less than a month away. One of several symbols of Thanksgiving is the Cornucopia. In Latin Cornucopia means horn of plenty. According to mythology baby Zeus was being cared for and fed by the goat Amalthea. Zeus broke off one of her horns. That horn began supplying him with food everyday. And from that myth the “horn of plenty” came to symbolize prosperity, wealth and abundance.

We live in a country of abundance. When compared to the rest of the world, as a country, we are blessed beyond comprehension in many, many ways.

Unfortunately, when I think of that symbol my mind does a complete 180. Our country is not filled with the goodness of the Thanksgiving Cornucopia. It seems to me it’s filled with:

• Division through ideology
• Media cannot be trusted or trust at your own peril
• Hate and ignorance permeates many of our college and university campuses
• A wide open border, leading to crime and a massive drug problem
• Corrupt, lying, greedy politicians who lack integrity
• Inflation is eating away at the paychecks of our hard-working Americans

Frankly, I could go on and on, but the Cornucopia is already overflowing. We do have abundance, but it is abundance of enormous challenges and uncertainties.

We are in a time where civil discourse is rare. Seems to me we can no longer agree to disagree. If we disagree one of us is wrong. This division grows larger as world events occur. The middle ground no longer exists and it is destroying the fabric of our society.

So many media outlets are major drivers of this division. Video, audio and print mediums are all to blame. People watch, listen or read what reinforces their beliefs and allows them to fortify and embolden their views. Reason and logic seem to have disappeared. Sound bites, headlines, chants and rhetoric override facts, Frankly, it is nearly impossible to believe anything you hear, read or even see. Not being able to rely on media for truth makes everything worse. It divides are society and our country. Maybe to the point of no return.

The media has had a huge hand in shaping our country’s education system. From Kindergarten all the way through our colleges and universities we have watched changes taken place for years. The long term affect to our country has the potential to be devastating to our future. Every generation looks to the next generation with hesitation, trepidation and concern over where they will lead the country. I know my parents were concerned and now it is my turn to carry that same concern. Sadly, I think my concern holds far more grave consequences than ever before.

Without getting political, I believe it is safe to say the southern border is not closed. It is open and out of control. As Americans, we have no idea what this is doing to the backbone of our nation. Statistics tell us what the drugs flowing into our country are doing to our people. The loss of life and the present and future cost to our country is incalculable at this point. This predicament certainly brings to mind a haunting phrase we may come to rue, “The Enemy is within.”

So who can we trust to stop and turn around many of these problems? The first response is usually your government. But in the case of the United States, I’m afraid that’s not the answer or the solution. We’ve known for a long, long time, politicians cannot be trusted. All too often they come into office poor and leave office extremely well off. Immediately, I think of the late Harry Reid as a prime example. I know there are dozens more just like him. Other politicians are already wealthy and that wealth propels them into office. Wealth not only generates more wealth, but also breeds something far more insatiable…power.

We see that power in politicians who stay in D.C. too long, who are beholding to far too many special interests and who ignore their constituents in lieu of their own insatiable desire for more and more power. As with the media, I personally do not feel comfortable trusting my government and its leadership to have my best interests in mind.

To top all these issues off, we are now dealing with inflation that is stifling growth, small business expansion, home buying, and without being dramatic…the American Dream. Pensions are not meeting the inflation rate for retirees. Wages for the average workforce are not increasing to meet mortgage rates, the high price of food, gas and utilities. Increasing property taxes, insurance premiums and higher education tuition are additional crushing levers to Americans.

Yes, this cornucopia is overflowing in a very bad way. Can we rely on the media, our education system or our legislators? I want to believe we can, but I don’t want to be naive and my gut and my wallet tells me we cannot. So what can we do?

• We need to do our own research. We can’t rely on others to feed us their side of a story
• We have to think strategically. Whether it is financially in our own homes, or at the ballot box. What is best for our family and our country needs to be a guiding principle.
• We need to hold our local, state and federal officials accountable. We need to ask hard questions and follow those up with harder questions. All too often we aren’t bold enough to hold others accountable. That must change.
• Above all else, we need to have Faith. There are reasons we are where we are in this world. Only our deep and rock solid Faith will pull us through this “Cornucopia of Despair” to one of joy and abundance.

If it’s got to be it has to be up to you and me….

Until next time…

I recall a few years back, my son, who is normally in back of the camera as a producer, was doing the sports anchor job on Father’s day. Tiger Woods was winning the U.S. Open that Sunday, but what I recall most about the eight minutes of the broadcast was his opening line. “Happy Father’s Day to all you dads, and Happy Father’s Day to you too dad.”

In the movie, “Home for the Holidays” Charles Durning was sharing one of his important memories with Holly Hunter over the course of their lives together as father and daughter.

“Ten seconds tops, great moment in my life.”

That was exactly how I reflect on that moment in my life.

I had the same sense of pride when I walked my daughter into the arms of her husband on their wedding day.

Despite my many faults as a father, the kids turned into terrific adults.

As I reflect on fathers and their offspring just prior to Father’s Day 2023, an eddy of flashbacks spin through my head.

I recall Big Ed. A charismatic, generous man who was neither big nor imposing. Ed, the father of one my dearest friends always made me feel like a member of the family. As a teenager, and then as an adult with children of my own Big Ed always made me feel at home.

I’ve heard stories of another father who lost a leg in World War II and went on to farm and raise enormous, record setting pumpkins. His son, a veteran and a very important mentor to me, was astute and frankly brilliant, when he sat down with his dad one day and video recorded his dad retelling the highlights of his life. What a treasure that must be! I’m sad, I didn’t get to meet him myself.

And of course there is Father Frank, who I have written about many times before. Frank was not my father nor a Catholic Priest, but had a profound effect on my life. I wasn’t alone. With eight children and countless mentees along a forty year career, Frank’s legacy will live on long after I am gone.

Three brief examples of fathers. One I knew well, one I never met and one who really changed my life. Which brings me to my own dad.

For nearly all of his life, he was the guy who wanted to be active. He was a golf and a hunter. A hard worker and a guy who loved to laugh. Dad wrote poetry, historical prose and songs.  He wasn’t a great singer, but it didn’t stop him from belting out tunes.  He was an artist, had beautiful handwriting and was an award winning pumpkin carver.

Ray Kinsella built a baseball diamond in Iowa in an attempt to have his father walk through the cornfields just long enough to “have a catch” with him one more time. I could and can relate.

My dad enjoyed playing catch with a baseball or football, but there was an unspoken stipulation.  He had to be able to catch the balls without much movement.  If it was too low or too high he would feign an attempt and the ball would scoot or sail by him.  You than had to go get it while he waited. He wasn’t necessarily as much lazy as he was clever. It taught us all to hit our targets.

Dad was at his best when it came to a crisis. He handled drama, hardships and tragedy as well as anyone. His quiet, steely resolve got him and his family through and past tough times. Whether it was recovering from a broken leg or collar bone, the loss of a friend or family member, or other family drama, you could look to him and learn how to handle each challenging situation.  It’s that inner strength I hope I have learned.

My dad didn’t go out of this world the way he or I would have wished. It wasn’t fair and it wasn’t pleasant. But like he lived his life, he persevered until he could go quietly without fanfare or drama. I certainly don’t miss the way he suffered at 93, but I vividly remember the many memorable days we shared in the back yard, on long car vacations, at a baseball stadium, or on the golf course. I am thankful and blessed with those memories. Happy Father’s Day Dad!

Until next time…

The first move a teenage boy usually makes on a girl is to hold her hand. I wasn’t there, but I suspect that was the case for my dad and mom. Particularly, on that sunny day at Miller Park when, as my dad describes, mom was wearing black shorts and a yellow blouse.

I don’t recall them being big on public displays of affection. Maybe a kiss good-bye in the mornings before dad went to work, but I do remember hand holding. As a matter of fact, there are photos of them holding hands as they walk the crowded streets of St. Louis following another Cardinal winner.

I’ve seen them walk hand-in-hand on a Florida beach and on trails in Rocky Mountain National Park. And many people will remember them walking to their car following a grandchild’s ballgame.  Lawn chair in one hand and their other hands clasp together.

A simple act of love.  Holding hands.  And so it was the last day they held hands.  Dad lying in bed and mom holding his hand. She sat there stroking the back of his hand and relishing the strength and warmth in his grip.  It gave her great comfort and I imagine it gave dad the same comfort and confidence to let go one last time and reach out for the hand of his Lord and Savior.  A fitting transition for a couple of teenagers who spent more than 75 years holding hands.

Until next time…

When the number on the cell phone doesn’t have a familiar name attached, I always let it go to voicemail. I figure if it’s important they’ll leave a voicemail. I suspect most people do the same. Today, however, I took a chance when the unrecognized number said it was from “Alabama.” My gamble paid off. On the other end of the line was my old, dear friend and co-worker HFNMI.

“NMI” stands for “No Middle Initial.” For as long as I have known him, he always signed his name with NMI. I’ve only seen or spoke to NMI once in the last 19 years. We exchanged Christmas cards for years. He would sign his “Merry Christmas HF NMI.” I would sign mine “Hope all is well with you and yours, War Eagle!” HFNMI is a lifelong Auburn Tiger Football fan.

One of my favorite stories (among many) of NMI was the day a tornado tore through his property, destroying an outbuilding. You may think that was the bad part of the story. But for NMI the bad part happened when the tornado took out his TV antenna and he called me to get a real time description of the Alabama/Auburn Iron Bowl game. He was far more upset by the Tide coming back to edge the Tigers than he was towards his property damage.

I can still hear his voice asking me what was happening. While I was relating the action, he said so matter of fact, “There goes the wall of the outbuilding.” I asked him if he should go assess the damage and he said, “I can’t do anything about it now, just let me know what’s going on at Legion Field.”

HFNMI was one of my first mentors. It didn’t matter I was his supervisor. He was always willing to teach and help me with his southern style, grace and experience. We worked together four short years over 40 years ago. I wrote about HFNMI in my book “Jewels in Your Crown – Mining the Treasures Within.” He was a sterling example of what it means to be a co-worker and a teammate.

HFNMI has always been a giving person. On our call he related some good fortune he had at a Mississippi Casino. He shared his winnings by tipping three people who were involved at his table. His buddy who was a recipient of HFNMI’s windfall said the player to his left was astonished by his generosity. He said the guy was as happy as if he had actually been the winner. That’s HFNMI.

We covered a great deal of ground during that phone call. Too many of our former co-workers have passed away or are in poor health. That includes HFNMI. He’s had health issues and is facing more. I told him I would certainly put him in my prayers.

As we closed the conversation, I asked him where those 40 years had gone, but neither of us could figure that out. Just life I guess. The beautiful part of the conversation was that we picked up right where we left off. It was as if time had stood still.

I guess that’s the beauty of a true friendship. No judgments. No critical questions, just a caring attitude and a pledge to stay in touch.

I know you all don’t know HFNMI, but as you say your prayers tonight, put him in there with the rest of your joys and concerns. He’s the kind of guy you’d want as your neighbor. I’m blessed to call him my friend.

Until next time…

When seasons change I often get reflective. Sometime melancholy. Changing seasons remind me of time gone by. Of what might have been. I recall Sophomore English teacher Mrs. Davis. She was a bright, witty lady who implored us to read “If I were 17 again” by Jesse Stuart. It was a classic piece by Stuart and means more to me now, than way back then.

This year has been a quick one. Like a roll of toilet paper the years always seem to go faster the closer you get to the end. I’m a long way from “the end” but you never know.

With the price of everything skyrocketing and with crime rising all across the country, I can see how one might become depressed rather quickly.

I still feel blessed to live where I live. Despite his many challenges, my 93 year old dad says he “feels free as a bird” and I guess living in America can do that for you. I do believe people don’t know how good they have it until they go somewhere else or speak to someone who has come to America from somewhere else.

Someday, I’d like to traverse the entire distance on Interstate 80 or old Route 66. I’d feel safe to do so and I think I’d be welcome at every town and city across America. One cannot make that claim in every country in the world.

With everything that is going wrong in the United States my remarks probably sound naive. Believe me, I’m far from naive or gullible. The challenges we face as a country are enormous. They appear to be growing daily. One doesn’t know what to believe or who to believe.

I choose to believe what makes sense. I go with my gut feelings. Most importantly I put my faith in the Almighty and know that his leadership, guidance and plan is the one we all need to be following.

Enjoy the change of seasons. It happens in the blink of an eye. Kind of like life. But keep your eyes wide open and relish what lies ahead.

Until next time…

Recently, I’ve been involved with a cell phone company and a national shipper. Unfortunately, not by choice. I’m being kind when I share it’s been a painful process. Hours spent on the phone. Misinformation, which I relied upon, flowing regularly. I was able to get to the true facts by putting two humans on the phone at the same time. This totally eliminated a “he said – she said” finger pointing scenario. The issue, to this point, has still not been resolved. I’m trying to remain optimistic that it will be.

As I spoke to each call center employee. (so far seven to-date) I would repeat the same information over and over. Each time I gave my email address I’d get a comment. The most popular response was “do you sell jewelry?” Then I’d explain what the “Jewels in Your crown” philosophy was all about. Every person seemed intrigued with my description. They wanted to know more. Understanding that a call center employee is rated and judged by how quickly they handle a call I told them to check out my website.

As I reflect on my exasperating experience, I draw comfort knowing I may be educating people on the importance of developing others. They may be trapped in a corporate world tied to strict process, but they were still interested in learning about developing themselves and others.

Communication is vital to any and every relationship. What you say, how you say it, when you say it and to whom you are communicating are all critical components to effective communication. I’m very much aware these fine people handle hundreds of calls a day. I could tell by the background noise they appeared to work from home. The employees I spoke with knew what to say. I suspect words were written on their computer screen. The problem was they didn’t know me.

One person knew the circumstances because they took the time to ask me. They knew their processes weren’t ideal and they wanted to resolve the issue. One of seven isn’t a great batting average. I realize I’m not the only customer this conglomerate and national shipper deal with daily. I’m not asking for special treatment and I certainly didn’t receive it.

What did this experience teach me?

• I need more patience
• Corporations don’t care if they lose customers
• Cell phone companies are the utility companies of this century. Can’t live without them and they know it.
• My dear departed friend Frank was right, you need to learn to breath through your nose with things go haywire.

I had put this blog post aside for a few weeks. It helped me to cool off and to place things in proper perspective. In case you’re wondering, the situation was not resolved. But as I wrote above, I did learn a great deal about myself and the landscape of the business world in this century.

I’m not changing my expectations to meet the service levels of the corporate world. However, I will be changing my approach. I made a difference with one person and that is what I will continue to do. Make a difference with one person and see if I can change a culture gone haywire.

Margaret Mead said “Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful committed citizens can change the world; indeed, it’s the only thing that ever has.”

Until next time…

We love to celebrate in America. We have the opportunity to celebrate well over 100 people or things throughout the year. Everything from New Year’s Day to New Year’s Eve. The second Sunday in May we celebrate mothers. The third Sunday in June we celebrate fathers. We have days for grandparents, mother-in-laws, sweethearts and pets. Is it overkill? Probably. At the same time, if bringing focus to an event, person or thing helps raise awareness and shine a light on it, maybe that’s not so bad either.

Earlier this month I received a touching text from my son on Father’s Day. It helped me reflect on my own father. My dad worked for 50 years. He’s been retired for 27. He was the main bread-winner helping to raise five kids. He was consistent, solid, dependable and hard-working at his profession. Despite his leadership roles throughout his career, I’d classify him as an introvert.

He was usually available to play catch after work, but I don’t remember him being in the bleachers during sporting events. Mostly because he was working. When I was a teenager, golf became the sport that connected us. Despite his current physical condition, that connection remains today.

We didn’t have deep discussions on world events, politics, religion or issues of the day, like civil rights. My most vivid memories of my dad revolved around how he handled his tough times and adversity.

The first memory was when he lost his job after more than two decades and numerous awards. We had returned from a little league game where my team had lost by a large margin. My mom was in the kitchen crying and my dad was in the shower singing. I said to my mom, “Why are you crying, we have lost by worst scores than tonight.” At that remark she burst into sobs and told me about my dad’s debacle. The fact that my dad was singing in the shower gave me comfort. His resolve proved correct as he was employed quickly after we enjoyed a vacation to Texas.

Another strong memory occurred following the death of his father. I had been with my grandfather a few days before he passed. I was alone with him and he wanted some whiskey to help with his cough. I called my dad and he calmly said, “Give him whatever he wants.”

A few days later my dad was called to his parents home as his dad passed away about 4 a.m. As the sun was coming up, I drove my mom to her in-law’s home. The black hearse was backed into the driveway. It was Halloween morning and the macabre scene was not lost on my senses. An hour later I was about to head for school when my dad returned home. Once again he got in the shower and got ready for his day. No words were spoken and no tears fell. I didn’t take his lack of emotion as a negative. I took it as an enormous strength.

By now, you may be wondering why I’m sharing these memories of my dad. I’m doing so for several reasons. I’m not like my dad. That’s not a good or bad thing. We are two different people and we always have been. We moved several times as I was growing up. Some might be upset or have resentment to attending six different grade schools. However, I believe that shaped me as much as anything. I was forced to make friends and be a joiner.

I don’t regret not having deep conversations. I learned as much by watching him. Observing how he didn’t judge others. Instead he lifted people up and tried to understand and see the best in them. He has always loved to laugh and I’m grateful to say that trait has rubbed off on me.

We don’t see eye-to-eye on everything. That makes me very pleased as well. I wouldn’t want to be exactly like him and he is likely glad I’m my own man.

My son and I are not the same either. Like me, he is his own man. He is intelligent, humble, a tireless worker, creative and his attention to detail is second to none. I have told him he has been successful despite the 18 years he spent with me.

It seems to me a father and a son can be a microcosm of any relationship. You might look like someone, but that may be where the similarities end. And if the similarities are few in any relationship then you must figure out how to make that relationship fruitful and successful. One must be able to do as my dad has done, not judge, but find the goodness in people.

Finding what we agree on instead of what divides us is something the world needs to do. Cutting through the weeds to get to the fruit is challenging, but worth the effort.

I have a very dear friend whose pigmentation is different from mine. His upbringing and career were starkly different from mine. We don’t think alike on every ideology and issue. But the respect and admiration we have for one another makes our relationship rich and fulfilling. I’m blessed to have this relationship.

I’m also blessed to still have relationships with my father and son. Not everyone is as fortunate as I am when it comes to having a legacy and watching it grow despite distance and differences in our lives.

Until next time…

Twenty-three years ago I was in Denver, Colorado. Dylan Klebold and Eric Harris were in Littleton, Colorado. On April 20, they killed 13 innocent people and 24 others were wounded. Those Columbine High School Seniors, those who survived, are now in their 40’s.

Politicians railed against this senseless tragedy. But little has changed.

Mass shootings slowed to one a year for the next two years. Then zero in 2002 and one each in 2003 and 2004. From 2011 to 2019 there were 65 mass shootings. Since 2013, a mass shooting has been defined by Congress as murder of three or more people in a location close to one another.

I think about the victims of the Columbine mass shooting every April. I wonder how life has turned out for the survivors and the families of the victims. Frankly, I can’t imagine the challenges they have faced. The loss, the trauma, the memories.

I only knew one family personally involved. Their child survived. They were blessed and fortunate.

As of last year I now know a relative involved in a shooting. It couldn’t be defined as a mass shooting because only two people died. There were other victims who survived, including my relative. They are each dealing with physical recovery as well as PTSD in one form or another.

No one can put themselves in the shoes of a survivor. Whether it’s a mass shooting or someone dealing with PTSD as a result of service through law enforcement, first responders or the Military. Cliches like “You are blessed to be alive,” “It just takes time,” “You just have to tough it out,” “You need more faith,” not only do not help, they are detrimental to the mind of the individual.

Every survivor has a different road to travel. They need time, space, patience, understanding and a listening ear.

In my effort to better understand I was made aware of a book by Sgt Q entitled “Healing thru Service.”

It was written for veterans dealing with PTSD, but the principles and key points are applicable to anyone dealing with trauma, drama and anxieties in their lives. I’d strongly recommend reading this book. It would be a worthwhile investment of time to anyone dealing with anxiety or PTSD. Or for anyone who knows someone who has gone through a life-changing stressful situation.

Stress of a hundred types seems to surround us daily. We should be looking for answers to deal with stress.= of all kinds.

Over the years I’ve given many talks on Servant Leadership. Service can be an enormous healing mechanism. If you don’t know Damon West, check him out. He’d agree with me. I’d also recommend a plethora of scripture as it relates to healing and service. Particularly Chapter six in the book of Ephesians.

There are so many ways to help others deal with stress and anxiety. Taking the first step down that path to healing is always the most challenging. But that is where the journey to not only surviving but thriving begins.

Until next time…