I knew he was only three, but looking at that empty tree, I still felt like I had failed him. A couple of years back, I didn't have my stuff together. I was distracted by school and work, telling myself I’d get to the holidays "later." Suddenly, it was Christmas Eve, and I was in a panic. I remember obsessively refreshing my Amazon app every five minutes, praying the status would change from "Delayed" to "Delivered." My chest was tight, and I was snapping at everyone because I was so stressed. The package didn't show. My son woke up to only a couple of presents under the tree. He was too young to really know the difference, but I knew. I had let my lack of planning steal the joy from the morning. I made a promise to myself right then: Never again. I learned that being a provider isn't just about the paycheck. It's about the planning. When we don't look ahead, we force our families to live in our chaos. Real leadership is anticipating the needs of your tribe before they even know they have them. It’s doing the work now so they can have the peace later. That is the standard we hold for each other in this brotherhood. We don't just hope for the best; we prepare for it. 1. What are you putting off right now that is going to turn into a crisis by December 24th? 2. What is one specific thing you can buy or schedule today to secure peace for your family later? Your action today: Open your calendar. Map out the travel, the parties, and the gift deadlines. Buy the "big" gift today so you aren't refreshing a tracking app on Christmas Eve.

read before bed or in the early morning. my take away tonight. Don't you know that you yourselves are Gods temple and God dwells in your midst. 1 Corinthians 3:16

I was deep in the grind, answering messages from dads who needed support and trying to build this business. I had convinced myself that what I was doing was "critical." I felt the pressure to get just one more post up. Then my son walked in. He looked at me and said, "Dad, come play with me." My thumb hovered over the screen. I started to tell him, "Just a minute, buddy, I have to finish this." I felt that pull—the addiction to the work, the need to feel productive. But then I looked at him. Really looked at him. I realized that the post could wait. The algorithm doesn't care about me. But this boy? He needs me right now. I only get this age once. I put the phone face down. We got on the floor. We dumped out the Legos and the Matchbox cars and we just played. We built a city and crashed the cars, and we had an amazing time. I realized something powerful on that floor. I do all this work to help other dads show up for their families. But I almost missed showing up for mine. You can't automate presence. You have to choose it. We work hard to build a future for our kids, but we can't let the building get in the way of the being. The real legacy isn't the business you build; it's the memories you make on the floor. 1. What "important task" are you letting steal time from your family today? 2. If your son or daughter wrote a story about you today, would the main character be you, or your phone? Your action today: Put the phone in a drawer. Set a timer for 20 minutes. Get on the floor and play blocks, throw a ball, or just listen. Be all there.

My brother and I aren't very close. For a long time, I let that eat at me. I told myself, "If he wanted to talk to me, he’d pick up the phone." I was keeping a scorecard. And because the score wasn't even, I let the silence win. But I realized that if I wanted a relationship, I had to be the one to build it. So, I stopped waiting. I started calling. And here is the truth: When I call, we have great talks. We laugh. We catch up. The connection is actually there, it just needs a spark. I used to be mad that I had to be the spark. Now, I’m just grateful that I have a brother who answers. I learned that the blessing isn't about who dials the number. The blessing is that I have a brother to call. This Thanksgiving, I’m not looking at what’s "fair." I’m looking at the opportunity I have to connect. The phone works both ways, but my heart only needs to work one way: towards him. I’m grateful for the chance to be the one who reaches out. 1. Who are you keeping score with instead of connecting with? 2. Can you be grateful just for the fact that they are still there to answer the phone? Your action today: Don't wait for them. Be the one who initiates. Call that person—your brother, your dad, your friend—and just be thankful you can hear their voice.

I used to believe my job as a man was to fix every problem that came my way. If you brought me a tough situation, my brain immediately started racing for the solution. I thought that was being helpful. I thought that was being a leader. I was wrong. I was just being impatient. I remember my wife coming to me, clearly frustrated about a terrible day she had at work. She was venting, describing this massive breakdown with a coworker. I could feel the solution forming in my mind: “You just need to go to your boss and say X, Y, Z.” The words were right on the tip of my tongue. I could feel the tension building in my chest, a need to interrupt and deliver my brilliant fix. I jumped in too soon. I gave the solution. The silence after I spoke was heavy. She just looked at me and said, “I don’t need you to fix it. I just needed you to hear me.” That hit me hard. I realized that my need to "fix" her problem was really just my own internal discomfort with her pain. I wasn’t serving her; I was serving my own anxiety. I learned that stillness is a tool of a powerful man. My real strength isn’t in my ability to solve the equation fast. It’s in my ability to be present and hold space for another person. When you refuse to fix, you offer something deeper: connection. We are here to evolve, and that includes evolving the way we show up for our relationships. Sometimes, the most disciplined action we can take is closing our mouth and letting a brother (or anyone you care about) finish his thought. That's how we build trust. That’s brotherhood in action. 1. Where in your life are you mistaking "fixing" for true support? 2. What would it feel like if you listened for five minutes today without offering a single piece of advice? Your action today: Find someone you care about who needs to vent. Put your phone away. Give them your full attention for five minutes and practice saying nothing but "I hear you."