“Update from the flight deck. We’ll be circling for a bit as we watch this storm move through Phoenix. We’ve got plenty of fuel but timing could force us to Las Vegas. Please remain seated with seat belts fastened, I’ll get back with an update shortly.” Some hours later, I found myself walking the halls of a massive conference for the self-insured health benefits industry to discover that no one was talking about health. Risk and cost containment were the central theme, which I suppose makes sense, after all, the word “insurance” is really about managing risk. However, in halls overflowing with sport-coats and deal-making, the human being at the center of the $5 trillion American healthcare market seemed strangely absent.

Listening to the presentations and conversations in the halls, I realized that we’re not all trying to solve the same problem.

“We sat there all day, looking at the phone and waiting to fail.” The line really stood out out as the keynote speaker shared his story of starting his “business intelligence” service. A former CIA operative, he described his early efforts to launch his company, not knowing where to begin, and the big breakthrough that came from his duplicitous efforts to convince a large company that his business was really busy working with other large companies. I suppose it is a fitting start to a company with experts trained in espionage but it struck me as a particularly telling keynote address to a conference focused on serving self-insured companies in their quest to manage healthcare risk.

Sleight of hand and smoke and mirrors may win something in the short-term but it is never sustainable. Fooling people to get what you want really is a “waiting to fail” strategy.

“It’s totally bomb.” I waited for “dude” to be added to the end of his sentence but it didn’t come. Caught somewhere between 60’s flower child and millennial “you do you” vibe, I found his big smile and innocent energy totally endearing. The young bartender was busy telling me about his “drift car” and the thrill of taking it around the curves of a track at high speed, letting the rear-end “drift” around, keeping it just at the edge of losing control. The hotel bar was filling fast with a mix of tourists and regulars who appeared to be receiving treatment at a nearby hospital. The young man moved effortlessly between me, a few older couples across the bar, and a middle-aged man sporting a very large Crucifix on a thick gold chain beside me. The decaf espresso apparently workable with whatever treatment he was undergoing.

Between tidbits of car talk, photos of he and his girlfriend at prom, and his various creative interests, I watched as he “drifted” around the bar, somehow sustaining a half-dozen similar conversations while never losing a handle on the wheel of this eclectic gathering. I watched as people came and went, drifting in and out of conversations, while this young man remained fully present to each one, through courtesy and discourtesy, unflappably fulfilling his duties. I paused as I was leaving, waiting for eye contact – he caught my eye and smiled. I thought to myself, “I see you.”

“I decided that I really liked my wife.” Now about 25 minutes into my speech to a room full of Catholic couples, the crowd laughed at my anecdote from our journey on the Camino de Santiago in 2019. My presentation attempted to weave elements of Dante’s Divine Comedy with my entrepreneurial and faith journey. The image on the screen was a shot of me standing at the base of the Cruz de Ferro (Iron Cross) atop Monte Irago in northeast Spain – about 350 miles into the 500 mile journey. As I spoke, I remembered an encounter with some Americans who did a couple of stops on the Camino on a bus tour. A woman remarked, “That’s a lot of time to spend together. I don’t think we could do it.”

A tradition at the Cruz de Ferro is to leave a stone as a symbol of leaving something behind or acknowledging the “why” of your journey. I remember an overwhelming sense of gratitude at that particular moment, realizing that I had nothing to leave behind and everything to move forward to. I really did like my wife. And, I still do.

“It’s Blair, Pop,” Cooper said, pointing to my right. Looking up, I saw her standing at the edge of the patio in the dark. “I want to go home,” she said and proceeded to bolt across our backyard. We were cleaning up from a bonfire and festivities when this little three-year-old decided she didn’t want to spend the night and was simply going to run to her parents at home a few yards away. Fortunately, I’m still relatively quick and had her in my arms in about six strides. After a bit of negotiating, she decided to stay and even wanted to sleep with her big brother and her poppy. At 3am, I noticed her sit up and felt her looking my direction. She snuggled close to make sure I was still there.

The beauty of being three is the freedom to be three. We all want what we want, when we want it. One of the great gifts of maturing is the opportunity to learn the super-power of self-control. Mastering one’s passions, the emotions that can float to extremes from moment to moment, is tremendously challenging and remains a battle for all of us at all stages of life. How often does my inner three-year-old emerge to test those around me?

“Oh my!” I hit the brakes and pulled the car to the edge of the roundabout. Sally looked at me as I jumped from the car and ran around to where the young man was laying on the ground. His bike had slipped out from under him on some wet pavement and he went down, sliding into a four inch curb along the pathway. I saw it happen. My wife’s 35 years of nursing experience emerged as she assessed the situation and kept everyone calm, directing as needed. Fortunately, young Mason was wearing his helmet and somehow avoided a face-first encounter with the curb. Sporting a skinned knee and possibly a thumb fracture, he would live to ride another day.

Lead, follow, or get out of the way? I may have CEO on my business card but one of my most important skills is knowing when to defer to the person with the right experience for the situation.

These stories are from the last seven days. Seven days. Our lives are full of such moments. Some are more dramatic than others but life is happening all around us. Do you see it? Do you see the people moving in and around you? Do you see the opportunities, the shifting sand, the signs appearing to indicate your way? Do you see the suffering, struggles, and places where healing is needed? Do you see your place in this great drama?

Moving through the airport, the hotel lobby, the mall, and even the side of the road this week, I was struck by the noise. There is so…much…noise. images and sound. Motion and activity. All of it makes it so very hard to see the reality of our life. So hard to see our place in it all – where, what, and how we are called to be from moment to moment. Do you see it? That’s your life – it’s happening, whether you see it or not. The invitation is there, waiting for you to accept and respond to it.