The People Who Make Things Happen
There are people who ask, “What happened?”
And then some people make things happen.
I get asked all the time:
“Why are you doing so many different things?”
“What’s the point?”
“How do all these things connect?”
For me, the answer is simple.
I like building.
I like learning.
I like helping.
I like creating.
I like doing.
From the outside, maybe my life looks random.
Books about baseball and football.
Podcasts.
Sports edutainment.
My dad’s invention focused on early indicators of cognitive decline.
Dreams of owning a professional flag football team.
Volunteering.
Being a full-time single mom.
Three kids.
Three dogs.
Friendships I care deeply about.
Helping people brainstorm ideas, solve problems, and sometimes rethink their direction.
That’s a lot.
But to me, it all connects.
Because if you’re not invested, you can’t collect.
And I don’t just mean financially.
I mean, collecting wisdom. Relationships. Experience. Perspective. Stories. Trust. Character. Understanding.
Being involved teaches you how people work.
How teams work.
How leadership works.
How failure works.
How resilience works.
You start seeing patterns.
You become someone who can help because you’ve actually lived through things instead of just talking about them from the sidelines.
And the more interested you become in life, the more interesting life becomes.
A lot of people come to me with ideas, businesses, dreams, branding questions, family issues, or crossroads in life. Sometimes I can help them execute. Sometimes I can help them pivot. Sometimes I tell them they may need to switch lanes completely because I’ve already gone down a similar road and learned from it.
That experience matters.
As Jalen Hurts says, “Keep the main thing the main thing.”
I love that quote because while my life may look like a hundred moving parts, the truth is that everything I do connects back to one thing:
People.
Connection is my currency.
Getting kids reading.
Sharing people’s stories.
Helping communities.
Cheering for my family and friends.
Encouraging others.
Building things that bring people together through sports, books, conversation, kindness, and purpose.
That’s the point.
And honestly, some of the best moments in my life are the simplest ones.
All my kids and dogs piled on the bed together like sardines. Laughter. Paws. Blankets everywhere. Someone stealing my precious Scandia down pillow.
Some people love investing in beautiful bags or shoes, and I genuinely appreciate everyone doing their own thing.
Me? I love my Scandia down pillows, comforter, and sheets.
But I only really love them after a long day of doing.
And that’s really the point too.
The goal isn’t to keep up with the Joneses.
Trying to keep up appearances is exhausting, unsustainable, and honestly not very interesting.
Social media can make comparison feel normal, but comparison is the thief of joy. It pulls you away from your own purpose and into someone else’s highlight reel.
That feels inauthentic to me.
I’m not trying to build a life for image.
I’m trying to be a doer.
To add value.
To solve problems.
To honor my family’s sacrifices.
To protect my mental health.
To keep going and growing.
Busy people get things done.
And maybe being a doer is personal in the best possible way, because I genuinely love how it makes me feel.
I like having a lot on my plate.
I like momentum.
I like problem-solving.
I like competing with myself.
I like going to bed proud, tired, grateful, and ready to do it again.
Every day, I write in my gratitude journal about how fortunate I am to have so many cool things going on — things I created, things I care about, things that connect me to people and purpose.
That is a blessing.
And I do not take it for granted.
Do it authentically.
Do it genuinely.
Do it with no hidden agenda.
People can feel authenticity.
Not everything has to be perfectly mapped out before you begin. Sometimes you figure it out by doing it. You learn by showing up. You grow by staying in motion.
Pressure makes diamonds.
The pressure of parenting.
The pressure of building something.
The pressure of failing publicly.
The pressure of trying again.
The pressure of responsibility.
That pressure can either break you or shape you.
And no, doing a lot doesn’t mean you’re scattered.
It means you’re engaged with life.
You’re willing to care.
You’re willing to contribute.
You’re willing to keep learning.
That’s the difference between being busy and being invested.
So, thank you.
Thank you to the people who buy my books.
Thank you to the people who show up at charity events.
Thank you to the friends who call and ask, “What do you think?”
Thank you to my kids for still needing their mommy.
Thank you to my dogs for waking me up at 4:45 a.m. to go outside and then immediately expecting breakfast.
Thank you to the guests on my podcast who share their stories.
Thank you to the people who say, “Hey, do you want to be on this team?”
That is not noise.
That is life.
That is connection.
That is the blessing.
So my advice is simple:
Do a lot.
Say yes more often.
Volunteer.
Read.
Listen carefully.
Challenge yourself.
Risk being bad at something.
Risk failing publicly.
Risk starting over.
Figure it out.
Go to bed wiped out in the best possible way.
And enjoy the pillow.
Don’t wait around wondering what happened.
