What Do You Have to Give?

Last Friday, I attended my first public event since surgery, a regional leadership gathering in Galveston, Texas. Just a couple of months ago, I fully expected to be the one delivering the keynote. Instead, I signed hundreds of books, spent time with people, and sat beside my bride while Jen Davis delivered the very first 10-Year Letter keynote. It took just about every bit of energy I had. It was worth it.

Jen delivered one of the best keynotes I’ve ever experienced, if not the best. I might be emotionally biased. Regardless, it was phenomenal. Someone told me there wasn’t a dry eye in that packed house. I’ll have to take their word for it because I spent part of it sobbing with my head down.

Afterward, my bride asked if there was a specific reason I was crying the way I was. There were many, but my answer was simple. The ten-year-older version of me was so grateful I hadn’t given up on the battle I’m fighting today.

I’ve spent fifteen years writing to my future self. Sitting in that room, I could imagine him looking back, grateful I kept going. Grateful for the years with my bride, the moments with my kids, the work I still want to create, and the people I still want to help. I want to be here to live those years.

All last week, I’d been thinking and journaling about one question: What am I uniquely here to create, teach, or give away? Friday gave me a chance to see part of my answer right in front of me.

In 2011, at 37 years old, I wrote a letter to myself ten years into the future. I was trying to get clear about the life I wanted to live. Over the years, I began asking other people to write theirs. Some were coaching clients. Others were friends. Some loved their lives and wanted to get clear about what came next. Others were working hard and needed to decide what all that work was for.

I watched what happened when people gave themselves enough time to answer honestly. They wrote about their families, their health, their relationships, and how they wanted to spend their days. Their goals began to have somewhere to take them. Those conversations gave me something to teach, and the experiences gave me something to write about.

After thousands of coaching conversations, I’ve seen how much can happen when someone finally has the space to hear their own answer. I want to keep creating books, questions, and experiences that help people get clear about the lives they want, write that future, and begin living it. And I want to share what I’ve learned with people who can use it.

Jen brought her heart, her stories, and her relationship with me and this work to that room on Friday. Ryan Allen, co-creator of The 10-Year Letter Workshop, does the same when she leads workshops. Each brings something uniquely her own that helps people connect with the work and begin writing their futures. Something that began with one letter fifteen years ago is reaching people through their experiences, too.

After Jen’s keynote, people were asking when they could attend a workshop, how to sign up, and how to get involved. They wanted to write their own letters. That’s what I hoped would happen: people leaving ready to do something meaningful with their own lives.

I’ve been thinking about how often we overlook what we have to offer because it feels so familiar to us. We’ve done something for years, learned a lesson the hard way, or developed a skill we barely think about anymore. We assume other people already know it or that someone else could explain it better. Sometimes the thing that feels ordinary to you is exactly what someone else needs.

You might know how to help a young person make a good decision, build a business, repair something, make people feel welcome, or sit with a friend who’s going through a hard season. You might have learned how to begin again after a mistake and be able to help someone take their next step. There may be someone in your house, on your team, or in your neighborhood who could use what you already know.

The word “uniquely” gave me something to think about, too. My experiences, relationships, mistakes, and years of coaching all influence what I have to offer. The same is true for you. Think about what people come to you for. What do you enjoy helping them understand or do? What have you learned that you would love to share?

If you want a question to spend some time with this week, try the one I spent last week thinking about: What am I uniquely here to create, teach, or give away? Take it on a walk. Write about it. Then find one person you can share something with.

Last Friday gave me a glimpse of a future I want to keep living. I got to sit beside my bride, watch someone I love do something incredible, and see people get excited about what they want to create in their own lives. Today, I’m grateful I got to be there. And I have more to give.

What do you have to give? Write a future you’re excited to live.

Cheers!