Typically, when we face an obstacle, especially a major obstacle, we tend to think, at least in the moment, this is the end. Especially if it is a serious health diagnosis, the loss of a loved one, or losing your job or the company you started. That is normal. Our first reaction is almost never, “Oh joy! An obstacle! I am sure this will be a great learning experience. I can’t wait to see what unfolds.”
Jim Daly was abandoned by his alcoholic father at 5, lost his mother to cancer four years later and had no one to turn to but his four older siblings when their stepfather emptied the family home and left them to fend for themselves on the day they buried their Mom. Before he had turned 10, he was living with a dysfunctional foster family and thinking it was all just part of the “normal” life all kids lived. But buoyed by a hopeful spirit, he embraced the structure his teenage years brought at school and through sports — and gradually charted a course for the kind of life he once never dreamed possible.
What do you hope your friends and loved ones remember about you after you’re gone? What words would you like spoken in your eulogy? Written on your headstone?
Robert Krantz appeared in some of the top films of the ’80s — Back to the Future, anyone? — but when he turned his attention and talents to writing, directing and starring in his own movies a decade later, his career and life began to unspool like a dropped film reel. His first production — which he and his wife put so much money into they had to live with his mother — had the makings of a hit but never took off because of a disastrous Hollywood screening.
When we think of legacy and purpose, it can be intimidating. When we are gone, how do we want our loved ones and friends to think of us? What will be our legacy? Do we want to be remembered as someone who worshipped the almighty dollar and would ruthlessly destroy anyone in our path? As someone who was always out for ourselves? Someone who did not really care about anyone other than our self, indifferent to the suffering and pain of those around us?
Glenn Williams was living a life of success and significance in 2010 as a C-Suite executive with a global nonprofit doing life-changing work. But it all ended after his integrity was questioned by the CEO, leading Williams to resign and move his family back to his native Australia to figure out what was next for him at the halftime of his life.
Few things are tougher when moving beyond a crucible experience than forgiving others, or even yourself, for the pain you’ve experienced from a failure or setback. Crucible Leadership founder and BEYOND THE CRUCIBLE host Warwick Fairfax explains why it’s essential to muster the character and courage to extend forgiveness — or risk being emotionally and practically held back from pursuing a life of significance.
It is hard enough to find your mission, your purpose in life. But our mission, our purpose in life, can drift if left to its own devices. Years down the track, we might be a long way from where we started. But not by choice, by drift. Mission drift. For anyone passionate about devoting their life to a higher purpose, a cause that is focused on helping others — a life of significance — that is a sobering reminder. Mission drift can happen. To anyone. It’s a bit like an ocean liner: A slight shift in the rudder by a few degrees can lead to a significant change in course. You might have been heading to France, but you ended up in Iceland.
Devastating crucible experiences robbed him of his lifelong dream to be a Top Gun Navy fighter pilot and bankrupted the multi-million-dollar business he created years later. Then, just when John Ramstead thought he had his life back on track, a freak horseback-riding accident left him with crushed ribs, broken bones in his neck, a punctured lung, and a torturous 23 surgeries during a a 20-month stay in a traumatic brain-injury hospital.
