This year, I’m taking a day after Black History Month. Black history does not expire at midnight, and for those carrying the hue, it has never been confined to 28 days. The skin remains 365. The navigation of rooms remains 365. The pride, the pressure, and the legacy inherited remain long after February ends. So I’m extending the reflection; not as protest, not as performance, but as principle. Because sometimes the most powerful thing you can do is extend honour beyond convenience.

There is something mature about taking a day. The day after a tough interview. The day after someone says something cutting. The day after extraordinary news. That day matters. Taking a day is not avoidance; it is awareness. It is the space between stimulus and response. It is choosing intention over impulse. Taking a day, done the right way, may prevent damage you would otherwise spend weeks repairing. A rushed reply, an emotionally charged decision, an unnecessary escalation, are just some examples of professional regrets born in moments when we moved too quickly. Time and space, used wisely, are power.

And this is not a modern productivity concept. In the Book of Genesis, after creating the heavens and the earth, God rested on the seventh day. Not because He was tired, but because completion deserves acknowledgment. Creation deserves pause. Work deserves rhythm. Rest was built into the design of the world itself.

Honouring Black history does not diminish our shared humanity, but clarifies it. We are born into different countries, different cultures, and contexts. We inherit different versions of the same story. We carry visible differences that shape how the world meets us. Yet, beneath geography and complexion, our emotional architecture is remarkably similar: the need to belong, the need to be respected, the longing to feel safe, the hope that our lives will matter.

Watch the Olympics. Nations line up beneath separate flags. Uniforms are stitched in distinct colours. Anthems rise in different languages. Yet, when an athlete wins, the tears look the same. When one falls short, the heartbreak requires no translation. When competitors embrace after the race, the moment transcends nationality. Under every uniform is a human being. Taking a day after Black History Month is not about division; it is about integration — honouring distinct history while remembering the shared heartbeat beneath it. Maturity allows us to hold both.

Of course, taking a day requires discernment. Professionalism matters. Notice matters. Context matters. When possible, communicate early. Be clear. Respect policy. Consider the impact on your team. Taking a day is not about disappearing; it is about stewarding your capacity so you can return sharper, steadier, and more composed. The strongest leaders are not always the fastest responders, but are often the most measured. Knowing when a day is necessary is emotional intelligence in action. It is recognizing that tomorrow’s response may be wiser than today’s reaction. It is understanding that silence can protect relationships.

An extra day after something significant — whether painful or joyful — allows wisdom to settle. Even God took a day. Not because He needed permission, but because rhythm is wisdom. This day matters. So I’m taking one.

And I’ll leave you with this: When do you know it’s time to take yours?

Media Recommendation

Growing up, one song that was on heavy rotation and became a soundtrack for “one of those days” is Don’t Take It Personal (Just One of Dem Days) by Monica. Released in 1995 on her debut album Miss Thang, this classic R&B hit captured exactly what it feels like to need a moment to yourself: to pause, think, breathe, and just be without explaining it.

There’s something uplifting about revisiting it now: it reminds us that needing space isn’t dramatic or selfish; it’s human. Sometimes we all just need a day to steady our hearts so we can return more grounded, thoughtful, and clear.

Until next time,

Carrie

I’ve been reflecting on how some of the most well-paying jobs come with a cost that isn’t listed in the offer letter. The salary is strong. The benefits are great. Plans for future growth look promising. Yet day after day, the work leaves you anxious, unsettled, or quietly conflicted, because you can see how the product, the service, or the decisions being made are negatively affecting people.

That tension matters.

Emotional intelligence invites us to pay attention to what our bodies and spirits register long before our minds try to rationalize it away. Persistent anxiety at work is rarely just about workload. Often, it’s the strain of participating in something that doesn’t align with our values, our empathy, or our responsibility to others. The pay may be good for your pocket, but if it’s bad for your heart, something is out of order.

In many workplaces, success is framed almost entirely around individual gain: compensation, title, influence. Rarely are we asked to pause and consider the broader impact of our labour. Who is being helped by what we’re building? Who is being harmed? What does this normalize for our teams, our customers, our communities? These questions don’t make us difficult or disloyal; they make us conscientious.

This is where God’s economy offers a different lens. Scripture consistently points toward provision that is communal, not isolated; one that accounts for people, dignity, and long-term consequences, not just short-term profit. God’s provision is not meant to arrive wrapped in constant anxiety or moral compromise.

Sometimes God works by providing opportunities that allow both individuals and communities to flourish. Other times, He works through holy discomfort; an unease that signals misalignment between what pays well and what does well. That discomfort isn’t failure; it’s information. It’s an invitation to discern whether what sustains our lifestyle is quietly eroding our peace or our compassion.

A job that pays well but requires you to overlook harm, silence your conscience, or normalize outcomes that damage others may still fund your life, but it will quietly tax your soul. Over time, that cost shows up as burnout, cynicism, and emotional fatigue that no salary can fully offset.

The better question, then, isn’t simply Is this good for me? It’s Is this good for us? For the people affected by the work. For the culture it creates. For the person I’m becoming in the process.

Not all money is bad...but not all money is good. The kind of provision aligned with God’s economy sustains both your livelihood and your heart, allowing you to contribute to the well-being of the whole without losing yourself along the way.

Coming live from my pile of dirt to yours, this is God Made Dirt: where we remember that success measured only by profit is incomplete, and that we are called to steward not just our careers, but each other.

Media Recommendation | Paid in Full: The Battle for Black Music

Narrated by Canadian icon Jully Black, Paid in Full: The Battle for Black Music examines how Black artists have historically generated immense cultural and economic value—while being systematically underpaid, exploited, or excluded from true ownership. From the earliest days of the recording industry to today’s digital streaming era, the series exposes how profit has often flowed freely, but not fairly. It’s a sobering reminder that money earned without justice, equity, or regard for community may look lucrative on paper, yet come at a deep moral cost. A timely watch that reinforces the truth at the centre of this issue: not all money is good money.

CBCNews: Docuseries Paid in Full exposes history of racism, exploitative contracts in music industry, September 16, 2024

Until next time,

Carrie

When life is comfortable, it’s easy to equate security with the amount of stuff we have, both personally and professionally. But when the economy tightens, when jobs are lost, and when certainty disappears, something quieter and truer begins to surface. In those moments, true wealth shows up.

To me, wealth, including organizational wealth, is wrapped up in relationships.

Yes, companies exist to make money. Profit matters. Growth matters. Scale matters. But none of it happens in isolation. Revenue is the outcome and relationships are the infrastructure. Without trust, care, and mutual respect between people, even the most well-funded strategies eventually erode.

Simplicity has a way of stripping away what was never essential in the first place. It brings us back to presence, intention, and meaning. In leadership and in life, bare-minimum moments like a clear conversation, a fair decision, a human response, are often the most sustainable ones. They compound quietly over time.

You’ve heard the saying before: some people are so poor, all they have is money.

It’s confronting because it exposes a gap many organizations feel but struggle to name. True wealth has never been about what can be purchased alone. It’s revealed in what leaders and teams offer when there’s nothing to perform and nothing to prove; it’s steadiness, clarity, time, and attention. Relationships that aren’t transactional, but grounded in genuine care, mutual respect, and shared understanding. That’s what keeps people engaged when things get hard.

This season, the most powerful gifts are often the quietest ones. A moment of recognition when someone feels unseen. A kind, direct word when morale is thin.

Make the call. Have the conversation. Sit with a colleague long enough to remind them they matter. Be proof that the most meaningful kind of love, even at work, doesn’t cost a thing.

When Jesus entered the world, He didn’t arrive surrounded by excess. He arrived in a simple way, accessible, human, and present. God, the Creator of the universe, with the ability to have anything, chose relationship over spectacle. That choice reframed the concept of wealth forever.

Less noise. Less pressure. More meaning.

During the holidays, presence may be the most groundbreaking and generous thing a leader can offer. And receiving it and making room for others, may be just as transformative.

May this season gently shift how we measure success, and remind us that the greatest luxury in life and in business has always been found in the way we treat each other.

Media Recommendation

If you’re looking for a song that tenderly captures the shift between childhood expectations to grown-up longing for what truly matters, “Grown-Up Christmas List” is a beautiful choice.

Merry Christmas,

Carrie

This month’s word has been sitting with me: common.

Common — adjective. Having no special distinction or quality; widely known or commonly encountered; average or ordinary or usual. “The common man.”

On the surface, “common” sounds unimpressive. Maybe even diminishing. But when you sit with it long enough, something beautiful appears beneath the definition. Something grounding. Something that reminds us who we really are.

Because if there’s one truth God keeps whispering to us, it’s this:

We are all made of the same dirt. But we’re not shaped into the same story.

The Same Foundation

We all start from a shared place — humanity. A heartbeat. A spirit housed in a body formed from dust. We all know what it is to hope, to hurt, to lose our way, to try again, to want to be seen, to want to be whole.

That sameness is not a weakness. It’s the great equalizer. It reminds us that no one is above another — not in God’s design.

This is the heartbeat of God Made Dirt: A constant return to humility. A reminder that beneath the titles, the opinions, the wins and the wounds, we are all walking this earth trying to understand our own humanity with God’s help.

The Different Expression

Even though we share the same humble material — dirt — God forms each of us differently.

Same substance. Different assignment. Same origin. Different journey.

Think about that. God took something “common” and breathed uncommon purpose into it.

Your scars? No one else carries them quite the same way.

Your story? No one else can speak it with the same authority.

Your calling? Matched to you in a way that fits like skin.

So while we are all made of the same dust, we are also divinely specialized. There is nothing “average” about the way God created you to move.

Holding Both Truths at Once

Here is the paradox of the Christian life:

We are common… and called. Ordinary… and ordained. The same… and set apart.

And God expects us to walk with the maturity to carry both realities at once:

* To treat others with humility because we are all made of the same thing.

* To treat ourselves with reverence because God placed something extraordinary inside us.

A Reflection for Your Month

As you move through November, ask yourself:

* Where have I forgotten my common ground with others?

* Where have I played small and forgotten the uncommon purpose God breathed into me?

* How can I honour both truths with more intention?

Media Recommendation

The Beauty of Ordinary: A gentle, visually rich video exploring how God uses the everyday, the average, and the common to tell His biggest stories.

From my pile of dirt to yours,

Carrie

The weather was unusually warm the other night for this time of year, so I decided to take my evening cup of tea outside. As I sat under the stillness of the night sky, something caught my eye. A streak of light zipped across the darkness and disappeared almost instantly. A shooting star.

For a moment, I questioned it. Did I really see that? Or was it just my imagination?

A shooting star isn’t really a star at all. It’s simply dust or tiny fragments of rock entering Earth’s atmosphere at breathtaking speeds—up to 160,000 miles per hour. What makes it so awe-inspiring is that it happens entirely outside of human intervention. We can’t create it, control it, or schedule it.

And isn’t that a reminder we need?

As humans, we are powerful—capable of solving problems, building organizations, and shaping futures. But as much as we accomplish, there are still things that remain outside of our control. And often, those are the very things that amaze us the most.

In life, and especially in the workplace, we can get caught in the mundane—the endless meetings, the daily grind, the slow pace of progress. But God still works in those spaces. Just like a shooting star lights up the night sky, He can bring a spark of inspiration, a breakthrough conversation, or a sudden shift in perspective that changes everything. Our role is not to force it, but to stay open, to notice it, and to create meaning from it when it arrives.

So this month, I encourage you: bask in the amazement and enjoy the ride. Even in the ordinary, God has a way of surprising you with extraordinary light.

If you’re ready to uncover where the sparks are hiding in your workplace, consider booking an Organizational Audit with The Carrie Linton Group: www.thecarrielintongroup.com It’s designed to help you see beyond the surface, reveal what’s really driving culture and performance, and uncover the moments of light that can transform your organization.

Media Recommendation:

Stars are fascinating. Find out more in this short National Geographic video here:

Until next time,

Carrie

In business, we often hear the phrase: “Yesterday’s price is not today’s price.” It’s usually tied to the market—the cost of goods, the rise and fall of demand, or inflation. But beyond economics, this principle holds a powerful truth about the workplace, the human experience, and emotional intelligence.

Think about it: who you were last year, last quarter, or even last week is not who you are today. Your experiences, lessons learned, setbacks, and growth have shifted your value. If you’re still measuring yourself—or allowing others to measure you—by yesterday’s standards, you’re operating with outdated information.

In the workplace, this shows up in subtle but significant ways:

* Performance Reviews: If a leader only remembers your mistakes from six months ago, without acknowledging how you’ve adapted since then, they’re working with yesterday’s price.

* Self-Perception: When you hold onto old labels like (“I’m not good at presenting” or “I’m not cut out for leadership”), you undervalue the new skills and resilience you’ve built over time.

* Team Dynamics: Relationships evolve. A colleague you once clashed with may now be a key collaborator—if you allow the relationship to reset.

Emotional intelligence asks us to stay present, to see people (and ourselves) in real time. It requires noticing the updated “price tag” of value, effort, and potential, rather than clinging to outdated assumptions.

The human experience is dynamic. Just as the cost of goods reflects changing realities, so does our worth in different seasons. Yesterday’s price doesn’t define today’s capacity.

So, as you move through your work and your relationships this month, ask yourself:

* Am I treating others according to their past performance, or their current growth?

* Am I allowing myself to step into the value of who I am now—not who I was?

* Am I prepared to adapt when the reality around me shifts?

Staying aware of “today’s price” isn’t just about money. It’s about respect, adaptability, and vision. And it’s one of the most strategic ways to lead with both heart and mind.

We’re all made out of the same earth. None of us are fixed to yesterday’s mistakes or limits. Just like prices shift, grace allows us to grow, renew, and step into who we’re becoming—day by day.

🎬 Media Recommendation: The Pursuit of Happyness (2006)

This film is a powerful picture of how yesterday’s struggles don’t define today’s worth. Chris Gardner, played by one of my favourite actors, Will Smith, reminds us that value shifts as perseverance, faith, and opportunity align. I hope this story moves you just as much as does me.

Youtube: The Pursuit of Happyness

Until next time,

Carrie

We've all been there—sitting across the boardroom table, listening intently to the person speaking, and then you notice it: something in their teeth. You pause. Do you say something? Do you risk the awkwardness? Or do you let them go about their day unaware, because it feels easier?

That small moment holds a much deeper truth.

In life—especially in leadership, in relationships, in growth—we often become aware of things in someone’s “teeth” that go far beyond food. Blind spots. Character gaps. Repeating patterns. Ways of thinking or behaving that might be limiting their impact, damaging relationships, or quietly eroding trust.

And yet, many of us hesitate to speak up. We tell ourselves, “It’s not my place,” or “They won’t take it well.” We prioritize comfort over clarity. Silence over support. But real care isn’t always comfortable—it’s intentional.

Spiritual and emotional maturity require the courage to hold up a mirror for someone else—and the humility to let others do the same for us. That’s not criticism. That’s commitment to growth. It’s the kind of feedback rooted not in control or superiority, but in a sincere desire to see someone become more aligned with who they were created to be.

But let’s take it even deeper: this isn’t just about leadership. It’s about being human.

Because the truth is—at one point or another—we’re all going to have something in our teeth. Or toilet paper on our shoe. Or a tag sticking out. Or an attitude that’s off. None of us are exempt from the occasional misstep or moment of being out of alignment. That’s the nature of being human. Imperfect. In progress. Dependent on grace.

So let’s normalize helping each other clean up. Not in shame. Not in judgment. But in quiet solidarity. Because the moment you help someone today might be the same kind of moment you need someone to help you tomorrow. And that kind of mutual care builds cultures of trust, safety, and true growth.

Being able to say, “There’s something in your teeth,” with love, clarity, and respect, isn’t an act of embarrassment—it’s an act of service. And being able to hear it without defensiveness is one of the greatest signs of emotional intelligence.

We can’t grow if no one’s allowed to be honest with us. We can’t lead well if we don’t make it safe for truth to be shared. And we can’t expect deep trust to be built on shallow interaction.

So this month, here’s your leadership nudge and personal challenge: If you see something—say it, kindly. If someone says something to you—receive it, openly.

Growth starts with the person in the mirror. And when we’re willing to check ourselves and help reflect truth for others, we all rise. The whole world gets better—one honest, grace-filled moment at a time.

Would you want someone to tell you if you had something in your teeth?

Media Recommendation

Man in the Mirror, Michael Jackson: We should all make it a priority to examine ourselves and look for areas where we can make a positive change. This helps the whole world.

Until next time,

Carrie

A few weeks ago, we talked about the grim reveal that comes when the snow melts; the "shi(r)t" left behind, literally and figuratively. That image stuck with me. But lately, I’ve been thinking about what happens after the mess is revealed.

You see, now that the snow is gone, it’s lawn season. Grass is getting cut, soil is being turned, and people are out here trying to make things beautiful again. Including my husband—bless him—who recently gave our lawn what I can only describe as a scalping.

It’s dried up, dried up in multiple places. Crispy. Balding. Just rough.

Apparently though, it’s “part of the process.” But, I wasn’t convinced. Especially when our neighbor across the way cut their lawn at a nice medium length. Their grass is lush, green, and thick—the Beyoncé of lawns. Ours? A little more like George Costanza.

But here’s what I’m learning: the process to beauty doesn’t always look beautiful. In fact, sometimes it looks like you’ve ruined something. Like you’ve taken a step backward. Like nothing good could possibly grow from what you just hacked away.

And yet… growth is happening.

Today, I noticed something else: a tree in our backyard is shedding its bark. It does this every year—right on time. And every year I’m reminded that what looks like decay is actually renewal. Underneath what’s flaking off is fresh life. That’s nature’s way of saying: this might look ugly now, but trust me—it’s necessary.

Isn’t that just like God?

We want everything to look good while it’s becoming good. But transformation is messy. Sometimes growth looks like a patchy lawn or a cracked surface. Sometimes it looks like a public failure or private burnout. It doesn’t mean something’s wrong. It just means something’s real.

One day soon, I’ll look out and the lawn will be green again—maybe even more vibrant than it’s ever been. Or maybe it won’t be. And if it’s not, I’ll still learn something valuable about the process.

Because sometimes the process requires you to observe and pivot. That’s not failure—it’s wisdom. A natural, God-given course correction that keeps you aligned with where growth is actually happening. Adapting doesn’t mean something’s wrong; it means you’re paying attention.

And here’s the thing: the grass isn’t greener on the other side—it’s greener where you water it.

It’s tempting to look across the street—or across LinkedIn—or across the office—and assume someone else’s lawn (or life) is better maintained, more vibrant, more together. But we don’t always see the hidden work behind it. Maybe they’ve got a different method. Maybe they’ve got more shade. Maybe they’re just in a different season.

Whatever the case, comparison will distract us from cultivation. Our job is to tend to our own soil, show up consistently, and trust the ugly middle. Water what’s yours—faithfully, even when it looks like nothing is happening. Especially when it looks like nothing is happening.

Because growth doesn’t just happen. It’s made—through watering, waiting, and a whole lot of faith.

Remember: You are God’s greatest creation. And like the earth He formed, your growth has seasons. Your bark may shed. Your surface may crack. But you are not falling apart. You are becoming.

Reflection

What’s revealing itself in your life right now that looks a little dried up? Can you trust that even that is part of the process?

Take heart in nature. Take heart in your Creator. The end will be magnificent.

Media Recommendation: The Biggest Little Farm

This inspiring documentary follows a couple who leave city life behind to build a sustainable farm on 200 acres of barren land. The film vividly illustrates that growth often comes through trials and that trusting the process, even when it's messy, can lead to remarkable outcomes. Watch the trailer:

From my pile of dirt to yours: until next time,

Carrie

“If you keep making that face, it’s gonna get stuck like that.”

You’ve probably heard it. That playful warning—often directed at kids making goofy faces. It carries a not-so-subtle message: Be careful how you show up. Don’t get too wild. Don’t risk being seen that way.

But what if that face is part of your power?

I recently shared a photo on LinkedIn of myself beside a carved lion, making a bold, playful expression. It wasn’t polished. It wasn’t posed. But it was me—fully present, fully expressive. And truth is, I’ve made that face before: as a kid playing with my little cousins… and now as a mom, laughing with my own children.

And I’ll make it again.

Because being a professional doesn’t mean you stop being playful. Being a leader doesn’t mean you can’t show personality. Being self-aware doesn’t mean shrinking yourself to look perfect.

We often talk about “bringing your whole self to work.” But wholeness isn’t about showing everything all at once. It’s about knowing that the fullness of who you are includes layers—facets—expressions—and even funny faces.

Self-awareness isn’t just internal; it’s dynamic. It gives you the freedom to draw on the parts of yourself that best serve the moment. Not out of fear, but out of intention.

And sometimes, doing the thing no one else is willing to do—the bold, hard, heart-led thing—means you might look a little ridiculous in the process.

Just look at Olympic divers. Mid-air, their faces twist and contort in ways that almost seem comical. (See for yourself) But what they’re doing? It’s a masterclass in precision. In bravery. In excellence.

They don’t pause mid-flip to check how they look. They’re not afraid of their expression being caught. They’re focused on doing the thing well. And that’s why they stick the landing.

What if we took the same approach in life?

Too many of us spend so much time trying to look composed that we forget how to be courageous. Trying to look perfect, we miss the power of being present. Trying not to look stuck, we actually get stuck—in versions of ourselves that are flat and over-managed.

God doesn’t measure your leadership by your facial expressions. He sees your heart posture. And a heart that’s free to express with joy, with discernment, with purpose? That’s the heart that changes rooms.

So no—I’m not worried about my face getting st uck. I’m more concerned about hearts that stay stuck trying to impress.

I’m learning to show up in full. Not all at once, but in truth. With the part of me the moment needs. And I hope you do too.

Here's the link to my original LinkedIn post: https://www.linkedin.com/posts/carolynapalmer_ever-felt-too-powerful-for-the-room-so-you-activity-7316452488289611776-9RfG?utm_source=share&utm_medium=member_desktop&rcm=ACoAAAhpQJABD7Kl7Qh9HPJ6NJlIFQyTkqtb8mo

INTROSPECTION: Where are you holding back—not because it’s wise, but because you’re afraid of looking strange?

WHAT GOD SAYS: "Man looks at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart." – 1 Samuel 16:7

EMOTIONAL INTELLIGENCE TAKEAWAY: Bringing your whole self doesn’t mean putting everything on display. It means knowing you are full of strength, joy, play, precision, and power. You can choose what to lead with in each moment. That’s not playing small. That’s living well.

MEDIA RECOMMENDATION:

Want to go deeper? Watch this short but insightful video on The Muscles of Facial Expression. It’s a reminder that our faces are tools—not just for emotion, but for intentional, embodied communication.

Until next time,

Carrie

To be clear, the "r" in the title is silent.Where I live, the snow is melting, revealing a grim reality: an abundance of fecal matter left behind by dog walkers who chose not to pick up after their pets. It’s a vivid metaphor for life, isn’t it? We all have our messes—those parts of ourselves we’d rather keep buried underneath pristine snow. But as the seasons change, as life heats up, those hidden messes inevitably rise to the surface.

World's glaciers melting faster than ever, expert says • FRANCE 24 English