I’ve spent a lot of time in conference rooms.

Small ones with folding tables and chairs that don’t quite match. Big ones with fancy AV equipment that nobody can figure out how to use. Hotel ballrooms with rounds of eight and a microphone that squeals every time someone gets too close.

After years of facilitating retreats, leading trainings, and working with teams of all shapes and sizes, I’ve noticed some things. Not just about meetings, but about people. About what makes a group click and what makes them shut down. About what leaders do that works and what quietly gets in the way.

Here’s some of what I’ve learned.

If you’ve ever been in a meeting that somehow covered everything and decided nothing, you’ve experienced what happens when facilitation is missing.

It’s not that the leader wasn’t smart or prepared. It’s that leading a group and facilitating a group are two very different skills. And most of us were never taught the second one.

Here’s what great facilitators do differently.

If the word “networking” makes you a little tired, you’re not alone.

For a lot of people, it brings up images of awkward small talk, a stack of business cards you’ll never look at again, and that one person in the room who hands you their card before they even know your name.

No wonder so many people avoid it.

But here’s what I’ve come to believe…

Nobody wants to sit through two days of flip charts and forced fun.

If you’ve ever left a team retreat thinking that could have been an email, you know exactly what I mean.

And if you’re the one planning the next one, that memory is probably making you a little nervous.

Here’s the thing: a retreat can be one of the most valuable things you do for your team all year. Or it can be an expensive, exhausting waste of everyone’s time. The difference almost always comes down to how it’s designed.

You took the CliftonStrengths assessment. You got your results. You read through the descriptions and thought,

And then… not much happened.

Sound familiar?

You’re not alone.

Every organization has traditions.

Some are worth preserving.

Others are quietly holding us back.

One phrase often reveals the difference:

"We've always done it that way."

At first glance, it sounds harmless.

When was the last time you looked in a mirror?

Most of us do it every day.

We check our hair. Straighten our clothes. Make sure everything looks presentable before heading out the door.

But there is another mirror many leaders rarely look into.

The leadership mirror.

Have you ever found yourself saying one of these phrases?

"I thought someone else was handling it."

"I assumed you knew."

"I didn't realize that was important."

"I thought we were on the same page."

If so, you're not alone.

Have you ever missed a turn while using your GPS?

Maybe you were distracted by a conversation, missed a street sign, or simply made a wrong turn. Years ago, your choices were limited. You either had to pull over and unfold a paper map or drive around hoping you eventually found your way.

Today, your GPS simply says one word: "Recalculating."

No judgment. No criticism. No lecture.

Just a new route forward.

I think there is a leadership lesson in that.

I’ve used LEGO blocks in more than one workshop over the years, and every single time, it sparks the same reaction.

Some people jump right in and start building.
Some sit back and study the picture first.
Some start organizing pieces.
And a few just look around wondering what everyone else is doing.

And honestly… that’s your team.

Not wrong. Not right. Just different.

I picked up a small card at Magnolia in Waco, Texas, and the message on it got me thinking:

“There is gold in every piece of your story.”

And I’ll be honest…

That’s not always how we see our story.

Today I turn 55.

And if I’m being honest, I’ve found myself doing a little more reflecting than celebrating (although there will definitely be some celebrating too 😉).

Not on titles or accomplishments… but on the lessons.
The kind that shape how you lead, how you love people, and how you show up every day.

After 55 years, here are five that have stuck with me.

I was walking through the Dr Pepper Museum in Waco, Texas recently and I saw a question on one of the displays that really got me thinking:

“What message is this commercial sending?”

Not what they meant to say.
Not what they hoped people heard.

Several years ago I picked up Girl, Wash Your Face by Rachel Hollis, and it ended up being the book that helped me rediscover my love of reading. What makes the book powerful is how Hollis structures it around the lies we believe about ourselves and then challenges those lies with honesty and real-life experience.

The first idea…

When you travel, you notice things you’d normally rush past at home. A quiet alley. A burst of color. A hidden courtyard. A little shop tucked behind a crooked staircase. And apparently for me… doors. Lots and lots of doors.

The funny part? At home, I probably would’ve walked right by them without a second thought.

One thing Portugal does beautifully is honor its history. You’ll find doors that look like they’ve lived a thousand lifetimes—deep grooves in the wood, faded colors, rusted hinges. You can feel the stories, the families, the laughter, and the years etched into every square inch.

But here’s the part I love: 

I took so many photos of doors in Portugal that my camera roll looks like I work for the Portuguese Door Appreciation Society. (If that’s a real thing, I’d like an honorary membership, please.)

But it wasn’t just the doors that captured me—it was the differences. 

Some of the doors in Portugal look like something out of a storybook—carved wood, iron hardware, tiles framing the entrance. Others look simple, plain, or even a little worn down. But the thing I loved most was that you truly never know what’s behind them.

A tiny, weathered door might open into a courtyard full of orange trees.
A grand, ornate door might lead to a quiet hallway.
A simple door could open into a bustling café.

Portugal has a way of slowing you down in the best possible way. The streets curve, the tiles shine, and the doors—oh, the doors—feel like they’re placed there just to make you stop and think. Tall, tiny, bold, weathered, colorful, plain… every single one has a presence.

This month marks a milestone I never quite imagined would feel so… “weird”.

For the first time in almost 31 years, I’m working halftime at the Walton County Chamber of Commerce. After decades of full-speed days, packed calendars, and constant momentum, there’s now space—space to think, reflect, and truly feel the transition.