Personal Growth

If you’re in search of more meaning in life, crossing off a few extra items on your bucket list can be the very thing that sends you on a journey of self-discovery. For some of us, bucket lists contain our longings for far-off adventures and are springboards for our imaginations to roam wild. They spotlight our craving for connection with people and nature; they uncover our inner desire to make our mark in the world. In between their numbered lines dwells a path toward change and a recipe for thriving in our seasons of life. Bucket lists act as the catalyst that propels us forward, both as an instigator and a guide or sherpa in the self-discovery department. Every item on our

Chances are, you probably have a few frogs you need to eat today (or need stop procrastinating). No, I’m not referring to the actual amphibians (though I’m willing to try the supposed delicacy of frog legs) but rather the metaphorical ones that Mark Twain famously referred to when he said, “If it’s your job to eat a frog, it’s best to do it first thing in the morning. And if it’s your job to eat two frogs, it’s best to eat the biggest one first.” What are the frogs exactly, you ask? Simply put, the frogs are the things you don’t want to do, but actually need to do. Now, if you are a woman who tends to put off the hard

It was a Friday afternoon, long after the rest of the staff had left. The celebration was over and the building was still and quiet.  I walked to my office and leaned against the doorway, cardboard box in hand. I thought about the years spent within these four walls, the conversations, the accomplishments, and the many challenges. A career ended far too soon.  I spent the next few minutes packing years’ worth of memories into the box, glanced fondly out the window, walked out the office, down the hallway, and out the building—the front door closing behind me. I can vividly remember the feeling of cold air hitting my face as I stepped off the sidewalk. It was November, a fitting month

Enjoy the little things, for one day you may look back and realize they were the big things. —Robert Brault Years ago, I was scheduled on a red eye from Hawaii to Houston. Shortly after I sat down in my seat, a middle-aged Japanese woman plopped down in the empty seat to my left. “Hello,” I smiled at her before sliding my headphones over my ears, the universal signal that I wasn’t up for conversing. It was close to midnight, after all. But the woman started engaging with me anyway. Not wanting to be rude, I took my headphones off and answered her questions while our plane barreled down the runway. Pretty soon, we were describing what our days consisted of and