Podcasts about monday moment

Remember being little, and how natural it was to dive fully into life? We raised our hands when questions were asked, made best friends with everyone on the playground and were the first ones in and last ones out of the pool. Then we got a bit older. We stopped raising our hands quite as much. We stopped opening up to others. Heck, not only did we stop being the first one in the pool, we stopped even wearing our swimsuits to pool parties! We started making more excuses and stopped being as active. Today's Monday Motivation will remind you of the boldness of youth, the joy of participation and the power of showing up with heart.

Let's be real: going for the “budget hire” might save you a few bucks upfront—but it can seriously cost you in the long run. In this quick hitting Monday Moment, we're diving into why hiring the right person (even if they come with a higher price tag) is actually the smartest move for your business.Today, we'll dive into:Why great talent pays for itselfHow cheap hires can drain time, energy, and revenueWhy your business deserves better than bare minimumThis one's for founders, team leads, and anyone building something they care about. Your people are your power—don't skimp on the good ones.

During five agonizing months in the hospital, physical pain, emotional anguish and unceasing monotony were constant companions. And yet, one thing I treasured was the sound of the door opening each afternoon with the hospital volunteer delivering mail. Over those months, I was blessed to receive hundreds of get-well cards, love notes and care packages. Sometimes I'd recognize the sender's signature, but far more often the note of encouragement would come from someone I had never met. Each note though- whether from a friend or stranger- provided a lifeline to a world outside those four walls, reminding me that someone, somewhere, was thinking of me. It didn't necessarily change my day, but it reminded me I wasn't alone. I thought of that kindness when I read the story of this month's On Fire For Good honoree. Let me explain.

I don't enjoy convertibles in August. Especially not in the southern Florida heat. I don't typically eat at the Olive Garden. In particular, two nights in a row. It's not the norm on a business trip for me to stay up late eating popcorn in bed while watching the Disney Channel. And I don't often play mini golf, float on lazy rivers or go down a large waterslide repeatedly… all before a speaking event. But for a couple days each year, that's exactly how my days are packed. Let me explain.

This weekend marked the first Father's Day I've ever celebrated without my dad. It was a bittersweet milestone- filled with both gratitude for the way he shaped my life yet also an ache for his absence. As I reflected on his legacy yesterday, it's not just his laughter, strength or faith that I carry with me most vividly- it's the quiet, consistent way he loved. Let me explain.

Do you think beautiful things can grow out of horrible events? Recently, I was introduced to a young man who exudes a youthful, happy energy, and whose mission in life-despite being rooted in an experience that is anything but—filled me with joy.  Let me explain.

Have you noticed it is frequently the people who say the least about themselves who have the most incredible stories to share? On this Memorial Day holiday, I wanted to share one such example of a heroic, humble servant who never needed to tell you how great he was.

Thirteen years ago, I was invited to visit a critically ill man in a hospital. All I knew was the hospital where he was being treated, his room number, that his first name was David and that he was dying.  What happened during that visit, and over the years since, impacted my life.  In reading about it today, it's my hope it impacts yours, too.

A tent in Colorado A canoe in Georgia Friend's couch Church pew Airplane seat ER waiting room Classroom desk This is a truncated list of places I dozed off as a child. Regardless of where I fell asleep, though, I always had the certainty of ultimately going back to my house, my room, my bed. But many children do not sleep with that same certainty.  When Luke Mickelson learned this reality, he began to do something about it. And what he did changed not only his life, but his entire community. In learning about his story, I believe your life will be positively changed, too. Let me explain.  

A couple of years ago, I had the immense honor of delivering the commencement address for the Class of 2023 at my alma mater, Saint Louis University. (Believe me, the only people more surprised than I that O'Leary was the commencement speaker…. were the professors who taught me back in the late 1990s!) As I watched the graduates cross the stage full of excitement, trepidation, nerves and ultimately hope, I couldn't help but think back to the miracle that appeared the night of my own graduation. Let me explain.

Several years ago, I was getting ready for work when my oldest son, Jack, walked into the bathroom as I was shaving. Just five years old at the time, he stood next to me for a while pretending that he, too, was getting rid of the “stubble” on his cheeks. But then he stopped pretending and began gently touching the scars that cover my torso. These are the deep red scars, with ridges and lumps that traverse my stomach. These are the scars that remind me of all I went through and would rather forget. They're the scars that even today I avoid looking at because they're just too painful. But on this day Jack traced those scars with his little finger. What he said next changed how I saw everything.  

So many powerful stories go untold. Most books are never read, most scripts never make it to screen, and most independent films never find distribution.  That's why we're especially excited to share the news about the SOUL ON FIRE movie... let me explain.

It can be rare to receive – or maybe more importantly to give – meaningful recognition for the important work being done all around us. In our race to the next activity, next location, next appointment, we often hurry right past the individuals providing worthy service directly in front of us. Rarely do we pause and thank the janitor for the clean bathroom, the cashier for taking the order, the driver for safe transport, or the hotel clerk for working the night shift. By contrast, through a lot of grace, a ton of help from others and a bit of luck, I stumbled into a profession where I am frequently thanked with fancy dinners, standing ovations, and long lines with hugs and handshakes. This encouragement from others adds joy to my life and a reminder that my work matters. Let me explain.  

I only cried once during high school. No, it wasn't the first day when Mom dropped me off. And it wasn't when I saw my first report card, received my first demerit, or experienced my first detention. It wasn't even when a friend accidentally ran over my foot in the parking lot or when none of my friends stood up to a bully making fun of my hands. Nope. The one time I cried during my high school career was in a theology class. That day, our teacher rolled a television and VCR into the room (for the younger readers, google it!) and the lights were dimmed as we watched a movie called The Mission. Let me explain.

With so much negativity spewed by the media, each month we share examples of individuals who are grateful for all they have, joyful in all they do and profoundly impactful in the communities where they serve. This month's On Fire For Good honoree's journey is remarkable and his professional impact is stunning, but what he celebrates most are the three letters signifying his achievements behind his name. Let me explain.

What do you do when the weight of the world seems to fall directly on your shoulders? And how do you show up when you're pulled in so many directions that it feels hard to do anything particularly well? As I struggled with these questions in my own life, one person cruising past me showed me not only how to turn around my outlook but also revealed how to avoid the struggle in the first place moving forward. Let me explain.

Why me? This was the question I wrestled with frequently after getting burned. When I was finally able to communicate with my parents after more than a month, the first question I asked wasn't “When will I get out of here?” or “What's next?” or “Who is watching my siblings while you sit at my bedside around the clock?”  No, it was simply, “Why me?” Let me explain.

Each summer I have the honor of speaking at a camp for children who have one thing in common. No, it isn't a political party or a shared ethnicity. It's not a singular sex nor a similar economic background. What galvanizes the children at Midwest Children's Burn Camp is the shared experience of being burned. One of the most difficult aspects of enduring a fire is the lifelong mark embossed on a survivor's skin. These scars serve as a visible reminder not only of the agonizing struggle endured, but of how different we remain from others because of it. The scars can make us feel less than, set apart, totally isolated. Which is why an activity I witnessed at camp several years ago not only helped elevate the lives of participating campers but carries a lesson that may elevate your life today. Let me explain.

Life's most beautiful moments are often wrapped in imperfection. We all wonder if we are enough and worry about the opinion of others. Reading a book recently reminded me that the most beautiful things are often imperfect. Let me explain.

Briana Morales was ready to give up. Although it was the Christmas season, she felt defeated, hopeless and absent of joy. The high school teacher was sitting at the bedside of a former student who had been shot. Having already lost more than a dozen current and former students to gun violence in the past few years, this was not an unfamiliar scenario for her. As she held vigil at that former student's bedside, she received a phone call that another beloved student, a young girl named Da'Miya, had been killed in a car accident. All of a sudden, the losses felt like too much and she began to question if her work was worth the effort. Let me explain.

Long before Steve Jobs put a device in our hands that lets us mindlessly tap away - giving the illusion of purpose while we wait and a tool to avoid any interaction whatsoever with strangers – I found myself seated alone at a lunch counter awkwardly waiting for my burger, fries and root beer. While watching the cook throw burgers on the grill, I heard behind me the unmistakable and unparalleled voice of Jack Buck belt out: “I didn't know you had such a refined palate.” Jack was a Hall of Fame broadcaster, the voice of the St. Louis Cardinals and the biggest celebrity in our city. Additionally, he was a significant reason I survived a fire as a child, had been incredibly generous to me in the years since it and undoubtedly had altered the entire course of my life. He walked over, patted me on the back, asked if the stool next to me was taken and sat down. And so began this unexpected lunch with my hero. Let me explain.

This emphasis on self is one strongly encouraged by the society today. We're challenged to focus singularly on our personal lives and our individual versions of happiness. Paradoxically, it's in letting go of our self-centered desires that we find serenity. It's in faithfully keeping our hearts open to serving others – even sometimes having them broken by those we love – that the meaning, joy and real peace we seek is gradually revealed. Let me explain.

What does it take to be victorious when it matters most? That's the question being asked of those gathered in the locker rooms of the Philadelphia Eagles and the Kansas City Chiefs this week. Most analysts and the experts on TV will suggest the difference makers are things like elite quarterback play, strategic coaching and game management, impenetrable defensive lines, and special teams excellence. And while this weekend's Super Bowl is sure to include much of the above, with one team ultimately bathing their coach in Gatorade, lifting high the Lombardi trophy, and stating proudly their intentions to go to Disneyworld, I think there is a much more important victory that we should be seeking. Namely, how do we accomplish something so transformationally important that it will endure decades after the confetti has been swept up?

When you read the headlines about a fire, shooting, conflict or loss, do you keep scrolling like most of us? Or do you actively step up and show compassion in your own personal way? How you respond may not only change your life, but the lives of others. Let me explain.

 The first trip Beth and I took as a young couple was to San Francisco. As picturesque as the city was, it was what we encountered upon leaving the city that was most remarkable. With the most recent devastating fires engulfing California it is my hope that the lessons I learned decades ago might inspire us with courage to keep moving forward boldly today. Let me explain.

Homeless guy. Single mom. Burn survivor. Wealthy person. Immigrant. Regardless the intent, our quick judgements and descriptors for others always fall short of fully describing another human being. Several weeks ago, during an overnight shift at a hospital, I witnessed the downside of labels. And yet, minutes later, I saw the healing power that comes when we more fully embrace the humanity of the person in front of us. Let me explain.

Who would do that? This was the question my son asked last weekend. He wanted to know why I was planning to wake up early the following day, drive six hours to Cincinnati, surprise a friend for his birthday, and then turn around to drive home after just 30 minutes since I had to get back for a previously scheduled commitment. To Patrick, it seemed like a nicely written card or a gift mailed in advance would have been a sufficient gesture, but I shared with my son a few reasons why this person mattered enough to be there in person. Let me explain.

When you think of someone who has changed the world, who comes to mind? If you're like most people, you probably think of famous explorers, powerful rulers, mighty revolutionaries, and business innovators?  That's because we often think that changing the world requires grand gestures and historical relevance. But what if I told you changing the world actually more commonly occurs through small, everyday actions done for the person in front of you? This is the truth at the heart of our On Fire For Good initiative. Each month we introduce you to individuals whose humility, commitment and unflinching love has changed the world around them. And our January honoree, Bob Schricker, is a brilliant example of this truth in action. Let me explain.

Several years ago, with Christmas nearing and Beth and I unable to make eye contact with our boys due to the hair covering their eyes, I loaded up the car and took the teenaged boys to get haircuts. Despite their slumped shoulders as they entered and the soft-spoken answers they provided as she worked, the stylist could not have been sweeter to my boys. In thanking her afterwards for how she made them look and how kind she had been to them, she asked me a seemingly simple question: “Are you ready for Christmas?” Now, I don't think she was actually curious if my house was cleaned, the tree was up or the dinner rolls ordered. Do you think she was truly interested if my suit was ironed, shoes were polished or if the last several weeks of Advent had prepared my heart for the final two weeks before Christmas?

As you journey through the frequently chaotic Christmas season, while navigating hardships globally, divisiveness nationally, challenges professionally, and adversities personally, maybe it's time to heed the advice from Matt Maher's song Alive Again. Let me explain.

In celebrating my son Henry's birthday this past weekend, I was reminded of an experience from several years ago that perfectly captures his zest for life and joyful character. In sharing it with you today, I hope it ignites within you a desire to be a bright light of loving hope for others. Let me explain.

“My name is James.” With that statement, the man in front of me smiled warmly, extended his hand, and shook mine firmly. And from this seemingly ordinary introduction launched a conversation with an amazing man who clearly lives in joy and radiates love. In hearing his story, though, it was impossible not to be moved profoundly by his journey and his desire to do more through his life. Let me explain.

For an entire year now, you've shared stories with us of individuals in your world who embody what it means to be On Fire For Good. We've received almost 1,000 nominations, nearly all of them someone's parent, sibling, teacher, pastor, colleague or friend. But last month, one came in that caught my eye. It was in fact, celebrating someone the nominator didn't know at all but had admired from afar. It just so happens, however, that I know the person they described personally, and I was overjoyed to bestow this honor on my friend, the joyful Stephanie Szostak. Let me explain.

Toxic positivity. It's a term commonly used when someone invalidates negative emotions or expects unrealistic optimism from others. Undoubtedly, we need to hold space for grief, anger, and sadness. And yet, a woman several years ago provided a beautiful, practical and powerful example not of living in toxic positivity, but of choosing gratitude even in the midst of the storm. Let me explain.

Yesterday marked the 249th birthday of the United States Marine Corps. Oorah! I've been enamored by the Marine Corps since childhood, and having the honor to serve their wounded veterans more than 50 times through my work with FOCUS Marines over the past decade has further galvanized my love of them. And yet, it was a relatively simple experience, witnessed by just a few others, that revealed, yet again, how remarkable they are.  Let me explain.

As an empty nester, Holly Schultz revisited a calling she had first heard as a busy mom to young kids. Although she didn't have time as a young mom, years later with her children grown, she finally had the opportunity to volunteer at a local service dog nonprofit. Dabbling first in fostering service puppies for the organization, Holly found the separation anxiety when the dogs went to their forever homes too much to bear. But caring for the mother dogs who delivered those puppies? That became Holly's sweet spot and eventually led to one specific mother dog who is helping to change lives in ways that Holly could never have imagined. Let me explain.

Though we live in the midst of anxiety and hardship, a simple blessing from my mom, Susan O'Leary, on my wedding day reminds us that moving forward with confidence and defiant hope will free us from burdens. I was a nervous 26-year-old, wearing an ill-fitting tuxedo, already feeling insecure with all the attention. Having never told most people anything about being burned, I certainly didn't feel like this was the time or place to change that. Definitely not as I knelt next to Beth, waiting for our wedding ceremony to conclude, a chance to kiss my new bride, to walk down the aisle and begin our lives together. But my mom had requested a chance to share a few words at our wedding, and Beth and I had agreed to her request. Let me explain.

Last weekend, I attended the funeral of a dear family friend. Her life was an example of living joyfully, loving family passionately and serving others unfailingly. As emotional as the service, music and eulogy were, it was a tender moment between two of her grandchildren that brought me to tears. Let me explain.

Amidst continuous tragedies globally and complexities of life individually, we often need a reminder that there is reason for hope. Several years ago, I needed that reminder, too. And perhaps surprisingly, I received it from someone who needed it even more than I did. Let me explain.

“Of course I will, Dad.” These were the last words Dave Gibbons ever shared with his father. Given their past, the fact he spoke them at all was surprising. But even more extraordinary was what he was agreeing to do. Let me explain.

In our busy lives, we often overlook the gifts we possess, assuming they're too ordinary to share. Many times, however, these gifts are the very essence of what we're meant to give to the world. For me, it was in embracing my story that my life felt transformed and my purpose revealed. For Maria A. Ellis, it was her passion for music that not only changed her life but the lives of countless others. Let me explain.

Does it seem like people are quick to anger these days? For many, it's as if they go around seeking reasons to be disappointed, upset or infuriated. What happens, though, when an individual who has every right to be upset chooses instead to respond with grace? Years ago on an early morning Southwest Airlines flight I had such an experience. Let me explain.

In June of 2021, I flew to Los Angeles and interviewed a Hollywood director. No sound was recorded, no video was captured, no notes were taken. But what he shared, the way he shared it, and what happened because of it positively changed my life.  Let me explain.

A wonderful perk of my business is getting to share the stage with some of the most remarkable, eloquent, and impactful speakers alive.  To grow in this career, I've studied many of the greatest orators ever born. And yet, the greatest speech I ever witnessed wasn't on some big stage, delivered by someone famous, wearing some fancy suit.  No, it was a far more modest setting, delivered by a far less trained speaker, representing a far more powerful message.  Let me explain.

With the opening ceremony of the Olympics occurring on July 26th and the Paralympics concluding September 8th, we've been treated to more than a month of remarkable stories and incredible competitions. While our family may have missed some of the events, there was one my daughter Grace insisted we watch: Gymnastics. And as remarkable as their athletic ability clearly was, it was a question Grace shared at the end that moved me most. Let me explain.

Jason Watson was born with a knack for connecting easily with others, influencing those around him, and exhibiting a resourceful mentality. The youngest of 10 siblings to an addicted mother and a deceased father, Jason grew up in an impoverished neighborhood. Nearly all his neighbors shared the tragic bonds of being completely broke and of having incarcerated family members. As a young boy, Jason remembers not having Christmas presents under the tree yet not feeling bad about it because neither did most of his friends. But what Jason remembers most poignantly from childhood wasn't a lack of material possession, it was a profound lack of hope. Let me explain.

"The scars exist because the wounds have healed." -Henri Nouwen At the conclusion of filming On Fire the film, my bride Beth meticulously collected and arranged more than 100 photos from the months scouting locations, walking onto sets, predawn staff meetings and late evening crew wraps. She included photos capturing the emotions of shooting specific scenes: the fear on the day of the fire, the struggle of learning to walk in the hospital, the joy of coming home after five months, the elation of a first kiss and the agony of a final goodbye. Paging through this photo album recently with my niece, Lottie, brought back all the memories of filming On Fire. It was, however, a picture I had spent little time contemplating that my niece most wanted to talk about. Why it caught her attention, and more importantly what she said about it, might elevate how you view things today.  Let me explain.

John Ruhlin grew up poor. When you grow up without much, you notice when people are generous. Maybe that explains why anytime anyone needed anything, John's answer was always yes. Let me explain.

What makes someone a truly great leader? Is it their resume? Their resolute stance on an issue? How articulate they can share it? The influence they can wield? The results they get?  Although the answer is nuanced, while being driven back to the airport last week I saw clearly what it means to embody true greatness. Let me explain.

Amy Crawford's life is evidence that to become a spark for good we must first recognize that in the face of things that seem impossible, we can always start by doing something. In her nearly four decades working as an educator, Amy has joyfully guided the children in her classroom to not only enjoy a subject, but to recognize the value of their lives. She savored being an educator and the chance to encourage kids. And yet, Amy realized it wasn't just the children in her classroom that needed to be inspired, but also the teachers who taught them. Let me explain.