After the Storm

How quickly life changes.

Not in the big ways.

In the ordinary ones.

Friday morning started with four kids who had a goal.

More lake time.

They knew the rules.

The harder they worked...

The longer they stayed.

And work they did.

Rooms cleaned.

Floors mopped.

Trash taken out.

Dishes washed.

Carpets shampooed.

Somehow, they even managed to clean my office between meetings. I'm still not entirely sure how they pulled that one off.

The house looked incredible.

Not because it was spotless.

Because four kids had decided to work together.

When work wrapped up, I knew they had earned something.

We piled into the car and headed toward one of those little hole-in-the-wall restaurants every family seems lucky enough to find. The kind of place where the food is always good, nobody leaves hungry, and nobody minds if the kids laugh a little louder than they probably should.

About twenty minutes into the drive, everything changed.

The sky turned dark.

The temperature dropped from the upper nineties into the low seventies.

The wind picked up.

Then the rain came.

Not a summer shower.

A storm.

Thunder rolled across the sky.

Lightning cracked.

We laughed as we ran for the front door, trying to dodge raindrops that were falling much faster than we could.

Inside, one of the televisions had weather alerts scrolling across the screen.

Our county wasn't listed.

The radar looked like the storm would stay south of us.

So we dried off.

Ate dinner.

Talked.

Laughed.

By the time we finished, the storm had moved on.

Or so we thought.

The closer we got to home, the stranger things became.

Broken limbs.

Branches in the road.

Pieces of trees scattered where they hadn't been before.

Instead of getting better...

It kept getting worse.

Then we turned onto our gravel road.

My wife gasped.

One of our chicken runs had been picked up by the wind, carried over the fence, and thrown into the trees across the road.

The aluminum frame was bent beyond saving.

The bike rack had been ripped out of the ground and was hanging from a tree.

Bikes were scattered everywhere.

The storm hadn't missed us.

It had gone straight through us.

We spent the next hour gathering everything we could.

Dragging things back onto the property.

Saving what we could.

Throwing away what we couldn't.

Another storm was already on the way.

By the time we finished...

My tank was empty.

Streaming wasn't happening Friday night.

Instead, the kids got showers, full bellies, and made it to bed mostly on time.

Honestly...

I think we all slept well.

Saturday found its rhythm again.

The boys and I filled the food pantry, stopped by the butcher shop, grabbed breakfast, and came home for a little more cleanup. Eventually the yard reached that wonderful place we call "good enough."

Sometimes...

Good enough really is enough.

I slipped away for a little while to stream some Valheim. Nothing long. Just enough time to start laying out a new build before joining the family again.

That evening we fired up the grill.

Burgers.

Hot dogs.

All the fixings.

Saturday dinners are quietly becoming one of my favorite traditions.

No birthdays.

No holidays.

No special occasion.

Just us.

A chance to sit around the table, check in with one another, laugh a little, and remind ourselves that before we're anything else...

We're a family.

I hope that tradition stays with us for a very long time.

Later that night I jumped into WoW Classic Hardcore with Meg and Rale.

Hardcore has simple rules.

One dies.

Everyone dies.

Our adventure came to an end.

Next time...

We'll roll new characters and do it all over again.

Sunday was exactly what Sunday needed to be.

Church.

Time with our community afterward.

Good conversations.

Leftovers for both lunch and dinner.

A slower pace.

The kind of day that quietly prepares you for whatever Monday decides to bring.

And Monday...

Well...

Monday is bringing plenty.

This week I'll spend time meeting with nearly every manager and senior leader in our division. Thirty-minute conversations focused on one thing.

Listening.

I want to understand what's working.

What's frustrating.

Where Agile is helping.

Where it isn't.

Not so we can figure out who's struggling.

So we can figure out what leadership needs to do better.

Problems deserve owners.

People deserve trust.

Somewhere between those meetings, my own teams, skip-levels, planning sessions, school, and hopefully finding time to stream...

I'll probably drink more coffee than any reasonable person should.

Looking at my calendar...

I have no one to blame but myself.

And honestly...

I'm okay with that.

Here's hoping the coffee holds out.

That I stay ahead in school.

That I find time to stream.

And maybe...

That four kids remember what they learned on Friday.

Hard work has a funny way of opening doors.

Sometimes...

It even leads to another afternoon at the lake.

As I sat down this morning, I realized the story I expected to tell this weekend wasn't the one we ended up living. Friday was supposed to be about rewarding four kids for working hard around the house. Instead, it became a lesson in adapting when life has other plans. A thunderstorm, a chicken run in the trees, a bike rack hanging from a limb, and an evening spent cleaning up instead of relaxing.

Funny thing is, those unexpected moments are usually the ones that stay with us. We make plans because we should. We fill calendars because life requires it. But somewhere between the storms, the grilled burgers, church on Sunday, and the laughter around the dinner table, life quietly reminds us that it has a vote too.

Maybe that's the lesson I'll carry into this week.

The plans changed.

The memories didn't.

Much love.

Stay safe.

Wash your damn hands.

And I will see you, next time.