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Would-be entrepreneurs.
Would-be authors.
Would-be innovators, creators, leaders, and world-changers.
People with huge ideas and enormous talent. People who could make a remarkable impact.
But most of those dreams will never see the light of day.
Not because the ideas aren’t good.
Not because the dream isn’t worth chasing.
But because too many of us get stuck in the gap between intention and action.
Too much thinking.
Too much planning.
Too much worrying about what might go wrong.
And not nearly enough doing.
This is why, at ADDO, we use the phrase “Impact Through Action.”
Real change doesn’t happen because we thought about it. Impact doesn’t come from brainstorming meetings, hopeful conversations, or beautifully crafted plans.
Said another way:
Andy Andrews said it well:
“When faced with a decision, many people say they are waiting for God. But I understand, in most cases, God is waiting for me.”
If you truly believe something is right, true, meaningful, or purposeful, then your next step is yours to take.
So consider your actions throughout your day, your work, your home, your faith, and your relationships. If you really believe something is true… then what?
If your kids are the most important, then what?
If you truly love your spouse, then what?
If your team is valuable, then what?
If your product will make a difference, then what?
If your idea could change the world, then what?
If your faith brings hope, then what?
If your role has purpose beyond yourself, then what?
If your contribution affects the whole team, then what?
If your child’s years at home are limited but pivotal, then what?
If your office culture is shaped by your attitude, then what?
If your coworker’s needs matter, then what?
If the well-being of your community matters, then what?
If you love your neighbor, then what?
If you believe in your company’s mission, then what?
Many of us say something is important, but our actions tell a different story.
If I believe the service I offer matters, I should work hard to share it.
If I truly love my spouse, I should put their needs before my own.
If I believe in my organization’s purpose, I should pursue it with energy.
If I believe my faith could change a life, I should speak up.
Because at the end of the day:
Success happens to people who keep moving.
Momentum belongs to those who act.
My hope for you today is simple:
Evaluate what you believe.
Then take the step that aligns your behavior with your convictions.
That’s where impact begins.That’s where transformation happens.

I was reminded recently of a lesson I learned the hard way.
It was 2015. I was standing behind a table at the launch party for a book I co-authored with my friend Paulus Wiratno, The Lepers’ Lessons.
We hosted two launch events, one in Atlanta and one in Bali. Both were meaningful, but for very different reasons.
The Atlanta event felt surreal. Paulus and his wife Marlieyse flew in from Indonesia. The room was filled with remarkable leaders, including legendary UGA football coach Vince Dooley and Ritz-Carlton co-founder Horst Schulze.
As the evening wrapped up, people lined up at the table to buy books.
One person stepped forward and asked for ten copies. And instinctively, I waved them off.
“Just take them. Thanks so much for coming tonight! I really appreciate your support. Don’t worry about paying.”
It felt generous. It felt right.
Later that evening, Marlieyse pulled me aside and quietly said something I’ll never forget:
“You made a mistake earlier tonight. You robbed that person of an opportunity.”
I was confused.
She continued, “When people pay for something, they place value on it. When they don’t, they don’t.”
Said another way:
I began noticing the difference almost immediately.
When I gave books away too easily, people were grateful, but not invested. They smiled. They said thank you. And most of them would never read the book.
But when someone chose to buy it, when they spent their hard-earned money, everything shifted.
Their posture changed. Their questions deepened. They leaned in.
This lesson isn’t about money.
It’s about ownership and the insight goes far beyond books.
People value what they invest in, whether that investment is money, time, energy, or effort. Free often feels good in the moment, but it rarely creates commitment.
A small “cost” on the front end (paying, signing up, preparing, showing up early) filters out passive interest and invites active participation.
When people choose to invest, they don’t want to waste that investment. They listen more closely. They act more intentionally. The return improves.
If you want long-term engagement, don’t remove all the barriers, but instead design meaningful ones. Ask for something up front:
True generosity creates transformation, not convenience. Sometimes the most generous thing you can do is let people invest.
Whether you’re in sales for a business, a leader in a non-profit, or a pastor in ministry, if you want people to care more over time, find ways for them to invest more at the beginning. Engagement on the front end multiplies engagement in the long run.
When people pay…with their money, with their time, or with their energy, they pay attention.

Today my dad turns 70.
That number feels big, not because it sounds old, but because it represents something rare: seven decades of consistency, character, and quiet strength. This post comes out on his birthday, and unlike some of the harder posts I’ve written in the past, this one is full of gratitude. My dad is still here. Still showing up. Still teaching me, often without even saying a word.
If you know my dad, Jeff, you know he’s never chased the spotlight. He didn’t need a stage to lead or a microphone to make an impact. His life has been the message. And today, I want to reflect on some of the things I’ve learned from him. These are lessons shaped by long shifts, early mornings, family dinners, and a career of running toward danger when everyone else was running away.
Here are some of the greatest things I’ve learned from my dad.
My dad spent his career as a firefighter. Long hours. Missed holidays. Physical exhaustion. Emotional weight most people never see.
I learned early on that work isn’t just about a paycheck. A profession is about provision, protection, and responsibility. He worked hard not for applause, but because people were counting on him. That kind of work ethic changes a family tree.
My dad didn’t live in extremes. He showed up again and again.
Same values. Same commitment. Same reliability.
I’ve learned that success, leadership, and trust are built over time. Flashy moments fade, but consistency compounds.
Whether it was responding to a call, fixing something around the house, or helping a neighbor, my dad never needed the “big” assignment to give full effort.
Truthfully, sometimes this would drive us crazy. He wouldn’t do anything half-way. (He used another term that we won’t use here!)
He taught me that character shows up most clearly in the ordinary moments no one is watching.
Despite the demands of his job, I never questioned where I stood with my dad.
I have learned that when it’s all said and done, titles don’t matter but relationships do. You don’t get a second chance to prioritize the people who matter most.
My dad isn’t a man of endless words. Between myself, my mom, and my sister, there aren’t as many opportunities to get a word in! But when he speaks, it carries weight.
He taught me that wisdom doesn’t need volume, integrity doesn’t need explanation, and credibility is built when your life backs up what you say.
Firehouses are built on trust. Families are too.
I learned from my dad that loyalty isn’t seasonal. You don’t bail when things get uncomfortable. You stand your ground. You show up. You stay.
It never mattered who someone was or what they did, my dad has always treated people with dignity.
From that, I learned that real strength doesn’t talk down, but it lifts up. And the way you treat people who can do nothing for you says everything about you.
My dad never pretended to have it all figured out, he just stayed engaged.
That taught me that presence matters more than perfection. Showing up beats showing off.
There’s a quiet pride that comes from knowing you did your best, stayed true, and left things better than you found them.
My dad carries that pride. It isn’t loud but it is genuine. And it’s something I hope to pass on.
My dad’s life may not be written about in history books, but it’s written all over the lives he’s impacted. I’ve learned that a faithful life is a successful life.
Dad, happy 70th birthday.
Thank you for the example. Thank you for the sacrifices no one saw. Thank you for teaching me, through consistency, courage, and commitment, what it means to be a man.
Seventy years in, and I believe your greatest legacy is still unfolding.

Every New Year, we feel the quiet pressure to squeeze our biggest hopes into a twelve-month box.
I’m not against resolutions. One-year goals matter. They create momentum. They give us a starting line. They get us off the couch and moving in the right direction.
But over time, I’ve noticed something subtle and costly:
We begin optimizing for what can change quickly instead of what truly matters. We chase wins we can point to by December, while postponing, or even abandoning, the decisions that require patience, courage, and trust in the long game.
In our rush to “win the year,” we can unintentionally undermine the future we say we want.
I didn’t see this clearly until a single question interrupted my pattern. It wasn’t about productivity, discipline, or performance. It was about perspective. And the question came from someone who had spent a lifetime making decisions that endured.
One of the greatest gifts in my life has been my relationship with my friend and mentor, Tim Tassopoulos, the retired President of Chick-fil-A.
Whenever I’m facing a complicated decision, when the noise is loud or the stakes feel high. I go to Tim. Many times he has slowed me down with the same disarming question:
“Kevin, how will this decision look two years from now? Three years? Five?”
Tim calls it extending the time horizon. And that simple question has quietly reshaped the way I lead, the way I make decisions, and the way I live.
Most of us make decisions based on the pressure of right now:
the urgency, the emotion, the inbox, the expectations.
You gain perspective.
Your priorities sharpen.
You trade reaction for intention.
And your decisions get wiser, better, and far more purposeful.
What if you extended the time horizon on…
Here’s the truth Tim helped me see:
So here’s my challenge to you today:
Pick one decision you’re wrestling with right now…just one.
Then ask Tim’s question:
“How will this look two, three, five years from now?”
Make the decision your future self will thank you for.And commit to living and leading with a longer horizon.

It’s two days before Christmas, and like many of you, I find myself balancing the push to check off to-do lists with the desire to pause and savor these beautifully chaotic moments with our kids.
One of my favorite movies to watch this time of year is one I didn’t always love. It’s a Wonderful Life is in black and white, and it refuses to rush past pain on the way to joy. It lingers. It understands weariness. And somehow, even in all that, it still makes room for hope.
The classic film opens not with snow-covered streets or smiling faces, but with stars whispering prayers into the night. George Bailey is discouraged. So discouraged, in fact, that heaven itself takes notice.
High above the earth, two celestial lights flicker as angelic voices speak with concern. Clarence, the angel assigned to help George, listens as he’s told about a man worn down by life, burdened by responsibilities, and unable to see the goodness around him. Before Clarence ever sets foot on earth, he is briefed on a simple but profound truth: even the strongest hearts can grow weary.
It’s a scene painted in darkness and light, with despair below and hope preparing above. And in many ways, it mirrors how Christmas often feels today.
Isn’t it strange how the season meant for joy can also be the most exhausting?
As Christmas approaches, the pressure mounts.
There’s the mom striving to make Christmas perfect. She’s decorating, shopping, cooking, and planning, only to feel completely overwhelmed.
There’s the business professional chasing year-end goals, working late into the night and postponing rest until “after Christmas.”
There’s the pastor coordinating services and volunteers, so deep in logistics that even he struggles to keep his focus on the reason for the season.
Between family, food, gifts, parties, programs, and deadlines, this season offers endless opportunities to feel heavy. And when stress builds, the gentle invitation to “let your heart be light” can feel almost impossible.
So let’s step back and imagine a Christmas far more chaotic than our own:Imagine Mary on a donkey, traveling the five-day road from Nazareth to the small town of Bethlehem. She feels each crack and rock on the road beneath her and holds herself steady on the donkey, nine months pregnant. On the dusty road, her stomach churns as she considers the census ordered, and the taxes she and Joseph will have to pay before the birth of their baby.
Finally, they arrive in Bethlehem only to find that there is nowhere to stay. Mary’s heart sinks, and then the contractions start. The only place to go is a filthy stable, full of animals, dirt, feces, and hay. The stench is pungent, the setting unfit to welcome the King of the universe, and yet still, His cries pierce the night.
“Have yourself a merry little Christmas; let your heart be light.”
Perhaps Mary felt like she had already failed Jesus as she wrapped Him in swaddling clothes and laid Him in a manger. To her, that first Christmas must have felt overwhelmingly chaotic. So what did it take for Mary to keep her heart light?
I wonder if, as she looked into Jesus’s tiny eyes, she paused. Maybe in that moment she stopped, rested, and remembered the grace that would one day save the world.
During this Christmas season, take some time to stop, rest, and remember.
It doesn’t matter if everything is perfect. It probably won’t be.
But Jesus came into the world in the middle of chaos, and He meets us in ours today.

In business, we talk a lot about strategy. We talk about profitability, scalability, and operational excellence. We talk about consistency, quality, and performance metrics. All of those things matter deeply.
But we don’t talk nearly enough about something incredibly simple and profoundly powerful: have fun.
At ADDO, one of our core values is Passion. We define it as approaching our work with energy and enthusiasm. But here’s the truth: you can’t sustain passion without fun.
If work becomes drudgery, just a series of tasks to check off or numbers to chase, you may grind for a season, but you’ll never unlock the fullest version of what you have to offer.
Steve Jobs famously said that people with passion can change the world. He recognized that the only way to do great work is to love what you do, because if you don’t, you’ll give up before you get great at it.
Consider these leaders who loved what they did:
Truett Cathy, Founder of Chick-fil-A, understood that joy didn’t compete with effectiveness; it fueled it. He believed business should leave people better than it found them. And you can’t uplift others if you’re not energized yourself.
Todd Graves, Founder of Raising Cane’s, tells the story of how people laughed when he said he wanted to build a business around one thing: chicken fingers. But he loved chicken fingers. He believed in the concept, he enjoyed the simplicity, and that genuine enjoyment became the heart of the brand. You don’t build a national phenomenon around something unless you have real affection for it.
We are deeply moved by people who put personality into their service.
The server who jokes with you.
The barista who remembers your order.
The salesperson who treats you like a person, not a transaction.
Authentic personality comes from people who actually enjoy what they’re doing.
When people have fun, they’re not just performing a job, they’re creating an experience.
And customers feel that difference immediately.
Let me be clear:
I’m not naive.
I know profit matters.
I know delivering consistent quality is essential.
I know organizations don’t run on sunshine and good vibes.
But I am suggesting something important:
Somewhere along the way, a lie slipped into our culture: that going into business means leaving behind joy, play, or the sense of wonder that got us started.
But here’s the truth:
Work doesn’t have to be the opposite of play.
It can be the expression of it.
When you genuinely enjoy your work, it shows.
It spills into how you show up, how you solve problems, how you serve customers, and how you support your team.
When you’re having fun:
I firmly believe this:
People want to be around people who are energized. People want to buy from people who love what they do.
So here’s the takeaway:
Work hard.
Be profitable.
Deliver excellence.
Strive for consistency.

If you've heard me speak this year, there’s a good chance you’ve seen me open with an emotional tear-jerker video (and for that, I suppose I owe some of you an apology!). Sometimes it was the Chevy holiday ad from two Christmases ago. Other times it was the highly emotional story from a German grocer. It’s one of those pieces that hits you in the heart before your brain has any time to prepare.And now, just in time for Thanksgiving, another powerful ad arrived on the scene.
Whenever an ad like this comes out, I always pause and ask a question I think more leaders should consider:
Why would a company invest massive amounts of time, creativity, energy, and money into a campaign that never once highlights a specific product, a new feature, or even where to buy anything?
No specs.
No pricing.
No “limited-time only.”
Just a story.
The answer is simple and it’s profoundly important:
Whether we realize it or not, we make decisions with emotion and then justify those decisions with logic.
Most of us like to believe we’re rational beings who occasionally feel something. In reality, we are emotional beings who occasionally think. Neuroscience shows this. Behavioral psychology supports it. And if we’re honest with ourselves, our life experience confirms it.
Think about the last big decision you made:
The job you accepted.
The person you married.
The city you moved to.
The leader you chose to follow.
Logic may have supported the decision, but emotion almost certainly led the way.
And this is where the best leaders distinguish themselves.
Being an emotionally intelligent leader means you understand how emotions drive people and how they influence motivation, trust, creativity, loyalty, and performance. It means you pay attention not just to what people say, but to what they feel. It means you recognize that the people you lead are human beings long before they are employees.
Emotionally intelligent leaders:
And here’s the truth:
You become a better spouse, parent, friend, and neighbor. You become better at navigating hard conversations. You become someone people want to follow, not because they have to, but because they choose to.
This is why these holiday ads resonate so deeply. They speak to something universal: belonging, connection, memory, community, and the shared experiences that make life meaningful. They remind us that leadership isn’t ultimately about metrics, milestones, or output. Those things matter, but they aren’t what people remember.
They remember how connected they felt to a mission, a moment, or a team.
They remember the leaders who saw them… really saw them.
As we move through this holiday season, my encouragement is simple:
Slow down.
Notice people.
Ask questions that matter.
Share moments that matter.
Lead in a way that connects on a human level, not just a functional one.
Because authenticity isn’t built on information.
It isn’t built on policies or presentations.
And if companies understand this well enough to spend millions creating stories that make us feel something…
Then surely, as leaders, we can invest a few more moments into creating meaningful, emotional connections with the people we serve.

Let’s dive into this Thanksgiving post with a sobering reality:
According to the 2025 Holiday Mental Health Report by LifeStance Health, 51% of respondents say they feel lonely around the holidays, even when they’re with loved ones.
Among individuals already living with a mental health condition, about 64% say the holidays make their condition “a lot” or “somewhat” worse, says Utah State University.
Some of you come here for leadership insights.
Others are looking for ways to build stronger teams, improve customer experiences, and enhance your company culture.
And maybe a few of you were just hoping for a heartwarming Thanksgiving story.
So why am I starting with something heavy, talking about loneliness, discouragement, and depression?
Because this season, for many people, isn’t just about turkey and gratitude. It’s also about what feels missing.
Thanksgiving, and the holidays that follow, can shine a spotlight on our deferred dreams and unmet desires. For some, it’s a reminder of loss, loneliness, or unfulfilled expectations. Even those who seem to “have it all” aren’t immune.
Famous leaders like Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson and Jim Carrey have publicly admitted their struggles with depression. Even biblical heroes like Moses and David wrestled with despair. David once asked himself the question many of us quietly echo:
We often associate Thanksgiving with gratitude, but in reality, it can magnify what we lack instead of what we have.
The missing spot at the table
The unfulfilled dreams
The child that you long for.
Holidays can magnify the gap.
There’s no magic fix for the heaviness that sometimes comes with the season. But there are small shifts that can bring hope, peace, and perspective.
Be intentional about what you let influence your mind. Spend less time with people, media, or messages that fuel anxiety or comparison. It’s okay to be informed, but don’t let the noise drown out what’s true and good.
Seek out the voices and resources that build you up. Spend time with people who remind you of what’s real, right, and hopeful. Read, watch, and listen to things that inspire gratitude rather than discontent.
Don’t wait for one Thursday in November to practice gratitude. Make it a rhythm, something woven into your days.
Keep a thankfulness journal. Start each morning in prayer. Take a moment at the end of each day to notice the bright spots. Gratitude grows when we practice it consistently.
While this time of year can stir sadness, it’s also an opportunity to reframe our focus. When we turn from what’s missing to what’s present, we find something powerful: contentment in the middle of longing.
This week, as you gather with family and friends, I hope you experience that kind of gratitude. The kind that doesn’t ignore pain, but transforms it.
A simple shift in focus, from what you don’t have to what you do, can change everything.
Happy Thanksgiving!

Do you ever get tired of people bringing you their problems?
You might think to yourself, Can’t they figure this out on their own?
No one loves problems.
They’re messy. They’re inconvenient. They ruin your schedule and your sense of control.
But when people stop coming to you with their issues, that’s when you should really be worried.
General Colin Powell said it best:
“The day the soldiers stop bringing you their problems is the day you stop leading them. They have either lost confidence that you can help them or concluded that you do not care. Either case is a failure of leadership.”
That quote hits hard.
If everything ran perfectly, you wouldn’t need a leader, you’d just need a maintenance plan.
Every person who leads people should ask this simple question:
If yes, that’s not a sign of dysfunction, it’s a sign of trust.
They believe you’ll listen. They believe you care. They believe you can help.
If not… that’s a flashing warning light.
It’s tempting to dream of the day when everything runs smoothly.
But leadership isn’t about eliminating problems, it’s about equipping people to face them.
Yes, we should work to help people solve problems on their own.
No, we shouldn’t celebrate when someone brings us the same problem, over and over again.
But the next time someone knocks on your door with a problem, pause before you sigh.
That problem isn’t a distraction from your leadership.
If you want to grow as a leader, stop wishing for fewer problems.
Instead, start building the capacity, emotionally, mentally, and spiritually, to handle more.
And that’s what real leadership looks like.