Intentionality--When Everyone Is Looking

When It Rains, Go Outside!

Integrity vs. Leadership

Advertising and Leadership
“What am I advertising as a leader?”  I asked myself this question today because of something I’d heard my kids doing. Here in Chicago, there is a company called Luna.  I’m not 100% sure, but I think their business is flooring (tile, carpet and the like).  In any case, they have a jingle that often appears on television, in which they sing their telephone number: “773-202 da, da, da, da LUNAAAAA.” My children were singing this jingle this morning, and it spurred my thinking: “What am I advertising as a leader?”  ”What is etched on the minds of my followers because I have made it a mantra?”  But I ha

I’m Proud of Your Failure?!?
We were down by a goal in the waning moments of our last soccer game.  My son, who is one of the youngest players on the team (and therefore one of the least developed skill-wise) was playing forward. He took up an intelligent position in the center of the penalty area, just as we’d been working on in practice. And then it happened. The perfect cross. One of his teammates sent a terrific ball right into his path, and he was alone in front of goal.  It was exactly as we’d been rehearsing in the weeks leading up to the game.  Now all he had to do was kick it in, and we’d be tied. The ball arrived, right at his feet.

You Get What You…
How would you finish that sentence? Most people say “pay for.” But as leaders, we need to think about it differently. “You get what you measure,” is a good start, but that can lead to transactional leadership, which, while sometimes appropriate, doesn’t usually result in meaningful change. Today, I am reminded that as leaders, we get what we encourage. That is, we get what we invest in. And this, wielded well, means that we get what we expect. Pause with me for a minute. If we get what we expect as leaders, we are, in some way, able to predict the future, to know in advance what will transpire because of our actions

‘Have to’ and ‘Want to’
My children are old enough to perform certain tasks, assisting with the keeping of our household.  One of them is walking the dog.  Both my daughter and my son do this faithfully most of the time, but on occasion, complaining accompanies cooperation. Given this background, something ironic has been happening lately.  Every time I walk the dog, my daughter creeps out the door a minute or two after I have gone, and tries to sneak up on me.  Sometimes she is successful; other times I see her coming.  In either case, though, we end up finishing the walk together, talking and holding hands. She doesn’t always like to walk the dog on her own, but most of the

“We could do this every week or something.”
My son and I were playing with Nerf guns–shooting foam darts at a target he’d made. When that lost its appeal, we started to invent games: see who could hit the doorknob first; turn out the lights and shine a flashlight on the wall, then shoot the light; see how many darts we could get to stick to the wall; shoot darts sticking on the wall and try to knock them down… We stood up and shot; we laid down and shot; we shared darts; we competed with each other and against each other. Then, tentatively, my son said, “We could do this every week or something.” He didn’t want it to end. “Yeah,” I said. (I wa