Personal Growth

Recently, I played a fun two-man scramble golf match against Will and Ben, my two sons. My partner was my friend Ed, and neither of us was exactly 100 percent.

I include that detail because what transpired was a little surprising.

On the sixth hole, I rolled in a nice 15-foot putt to give Ed and me a one-hole lead. Quite honestly, I thought we were going to run off and win the match.

Then the boys birdied the tenth.

We followed by missing a sliding six-footer that seemed to move about three feet from left to right, and suddenly the match was square heading to the eleventh tee.

The boys looked at me confidently.

“You’re not going to win today.”

And over the next two hours, they worked together in a way that, to this point, I had only envisioned.

Every time one of them hit a poor shot, the other seemed to hit a fantastic one.

The 16th hole

That culminated at the most important point of the match.

On the 16th hole, Ben hit his tee shot into the water. Will found the right bunker. Will went first from there, but left an agonizingly difficult short-sided bunker shot in the bunker.

For a moment, it looked like Ed and I were going to get right back into the match.

Then Ben stepped up.

He hit the next bunker shot to about ten inches.

We conceded the putt.

The boys eventually closed us out on the 17th hole.

For the record, Ed and I beat them on the completely irrelevant 18th. But by then, it was over.

The boys had accomplished their goal.

One of my unvoiced hopes of fatherhood is that I get to watch my boys do things better than I do.

So, quite honestly, as the four of us enjoyed dinner together after the round, the emotion I felt wasn’t disappointment.

It was joy.

Cheering them on

As I returned to work the next day, I realized I increasingly feel the same way when I look at some of the younger leaders among us.

I want them to be better than me too.

Over the last several years, I’ve been learning that my identity isn’t found in what I do. It’s found in whose I am.

And because of Jesus, I don’t have to be threatened when someone else becomes better.

I can cheer them on.

I can hope my sons surpass me.

I can hope younger leaders surpass me.

Because I follow One who already is best.

I write these words one week before gallbladder surgery, near the end of another summer.

If I’m honest, I’d prefer none of this was necessary.

Over the last few days, I’ve caught myself daydreaming about how things used to be. Not childhood. My early twenties—when my body seemed capable of just about anything. I could eat what I wanted, recover overnight, and rarely thought about doctors or medical procedures. I didn’t fully appreciate the ease of those years at the time.

But that isn’t an option. Those days aren’t coming back.

So I started thinking about a second option: What if I could stay exactly where I am today, only with a perfectly functioning gallbladder? No surgery. No recovery. No interruption.

I’d gladly choose that option. But it isn’t available either.

What was true in the past is no longer true

Which leaves me with what I’ve started calling my third option.

And that third option is simply this: accepting reality.

It’s acknowledging that what was true in the past is no longer true, and what I wish were true today simply isn’t. Once those two options disappear, I’m left with a choice. I can spend my energy denying reality, or I can embrace it and do the hard thing.

And you can, too.

For me, the hard thing means walking into a hospital, getting hooked up to an IV, trusting a surgical team, and allowing them to remove an organ I wish were still doing its job.

I’d much rather choose another path.

But there isn’t one.

As I’ve reflected on all of this, I’ve wondered if this is one of the defining characteristics of midlife. When we’re young, our minds naturally look forward. We assume tomorrow will bring more strength, more opportunity, more capability.

Somewhere along the way, that begins to change.

You find yourself remembering how things used to be. You notice your body changing. You wonder what other parts of aging are quietly waiting around the corner.

The gifts of midlife and maturity

That sounds more depressing than I actually believe.

Because the truth is, midlife brings gifts too.

You watch your children become young adults. You experience some of the most meaningful years of your career. You have enough wisdom to appreciate relationships and, if you’re fortunate, enough means to create memories—like taking your family on a trip to Europe.

Life isn’t getting worse.

It’s just different.

And perhaps that’s exactly what the third option teaches us.

Life will never be exactly as it once was. It also won’t always be what we hoped it would be today. But there is surprising freedom in accepting the road in front of us instead of longing for the roads that no longer exist.

Maybe that’s what maturity really looks like: Not pretending the hard thing isn’t hard or wishing endlessly for a different reality, but simply taking the next faithful step.

And perhaps that’s what leaders do, too. They don’t wait for ideal circumstances. They accept reality, step toward it with courage, and invite others to do the same.

Recently, I’ve spent some time thinking about the 1990s and what made that decade so special.

Some of this is undoubtedly nostalgia. Every generation tends to look back fondly on the years of its youth. But I don’t think nostalgia fully explains my appreciation for the 1990s.

What stands out to me is that life seemed more connected, even though technology was far less advanced.

Today, when we go to public places like gyms, parks, airports, or even on a walk through the neighborhood, most of us have earbuds in. I certainly do. We have immediate access to music, podcasts, audiobooks, news, and entertainment whenever we want them.

That’s an incredible benefit.

But it also means we’re often less available to the people around us.

Less technology, more connection

In the 1990s, people walked through their neighborhoods without AirPods. They sat in waiting rooms without staring at smartphones. They stood in line at stores and talked to one another. Casual conversations flowed more naturally because fewer distractions competed for our attention.

The same was true with opinions and disagreements.

People certainly argued about politics, sports, religion, and current events. Human nature hasn’t changed. But those conversations typically happened face-to-face or over the phone with people we actually knew. There was effort involved. There was accountability involved. There was usually a relationship involved.

The workday also had clearer boundaries.

The internet existed, but it hadn’t yet transformed every aspect of life. When you left work, you generally left work. Emails weren’t constantly arriving in your pocket. There were fewer notifications demanding your attention. Life moved at a slower pace.

Single-tasking was the norm. When you watched television, you watched television. When you read a book, you read a book. When you spent time with family, there was a good chance you were actually spending time with family.

Of course, there was also the cultural moment.

As a Chicago kid, I loved watching the Bulls dominate the NBA. In baseball, the Yankees were building a dynasty of their own. What both organizations had in common was that their success felt organic. Much of their talent was developed internally and grew together over time.

Whether or not that perception is completely accurate, it reflected something broader about the era: things seemed to take longer to build, but they also seemed more durable once they were built.

Creating friction on purpose

So what do I do with all of this?

I’ve been trying to create a little more friction in my daily life.

Instead of immediately downloading the latest audiobook, I’ve been reading physical books that I already own. I’ve been taking walks through the neighborhood without AirPods and looking for opportunities to strike up conversations with neighbors. I’ve been doing the same thing at the gym, and as a result, I’ve gotten to know a few people that I’ve genuinely come to appreciate.

I’ve been rewatching shows like Seinfeld and Friends with my kids rather than chasing the latest streaming series. In my opinion, those shows are still better than most of what’s on television today.

What I really miss

And perhaps most importantly, I’ve been taking stock of the people in my life who may not be here three decades from now and making sure I spend time with them.

That may be the biggest reason I love the 1990s: All four of my grandparents were alive then.

At the time, I didn’t realize how special that was. Looking back now, I do.

As I close this post, I want to be clear: I love technology. I benefit from it every day. I’m not interested in returning to a pre-Internet world.

But I am interested in slowing down.

I am interested in being more present.

I am interested in having deeper conversations, building stronger relationships, and living with greater intentionality.

Maybe that’s what I really miss about the 1990s.

Not the decade itself.

The pace.

The gym locker room is one of the great theaters of humanity.

The other day, after a workout, I overheard three different conversations happening almost simultaneously.

One guy was giving relationship advice to another man who was clearly going through conflict. From my vantage point — the cheap seats — the advice felt very candid and a little judgmental.

Across the room, another guy was discussing the upcoming NBA draft. He sounded like he had a full scouting department in his head. He already knew which prospects would be stars, which would be busts, and exactly who the Chicago Bulls should draft.

Meanwhile, he was buttoning up his work shirt and heading off to a job completely unrelated to professional basketball.

Then came the funniest moment.

A guy walked in, complaining that every morning, he wakes up sore.

“Can I just have one day where nothing hurts?” he said.

Another guy immediately responded, with an expletive mixed in:

“At least you woke up today.”

I laughed.

A Little Too Familiar

But honestly, the whole scene stayed with me longer than I expected.

As I’ve spent more time writing about leadership and personal growth, I’ve realized something important:

I’m still growing, too.

In fact, there have been seasons of my life — and probably moments even now — where I do all three of those things.

I give overly confident relational advice.

I act like I know exactly what a sports team should do.

I complain about how I’m feeling physically.

And while none of those things are uniquely terrible, they all share a common thread:

It’s easy to speak with certainty from the cheap seats.

One of the greatest gifts of becoming co-CEO has been discovering how much I don’t know. I learned that quickly. The seat itself has humbled me.

Leadership has a way of exposing complexity. Decisions that once looked obvious suddenly carry weight, nuance, and tradeoffs you never considered from the outside.

More than anything, the role has deepened my appreciation for the people around me.

I need the team. We all do.

After all, leadership is accomplishing things with and through other people.

And maybe that’s why I’ve discovered that I’m at my best this year when I’m encouraging others instead of evaluating them.

Encouragement requires humility. Judgment usually requires distance.

So when I head back to the gym in a couple of days, I think I’ll look for the guy navigating relationship conflict and encourage him. I’ll probably look for the guy dealing with all the aches and pains, too.

Because most people are carrying more than we realize. And if we’re honest, most of us are still growing too.

Leadership is the process of doing things with and through other people.

I was reminded of that recently, in real time, as we hosted eight other injection molding companies at our facility.

As the group moved through our plant, I watched our VP of Operations lead a tour through five different stations across the facility. I listened as two of our plant managers explained our metric boards and shared the continuous improvement initiatives happening throughout the facility.

I watched our Director of Quality walk through our quality systems and initiatives. I listened as our automation leader explained how we are using robotics, mir robots, and automated packing cells to improve efficiency and consistency.

I observed our tool room team explain how we manage preventative maintenance and move countless injection molds through the department to keep production running. And finally, I watched two of our maintenance leaders showcase our power plant and explain how we keep the facility operating around the clock.

As I stood there, I realized something important:

My role was secondary.

And that is exactly how it should be.

It Isn’t About Being the Hero

Leadership is not about being the hero of the story. Leadership is about putting other people in positions to succeed. It is about building a team capable of performing at a high level without needing the spotlight to constantly point back to the leader.

In many ways, it reminds me of being a point guard in basketball.

The point guard’s job is to distribute the ball, create opportunities, and help the team score. Success is not measured by how many shots the point guard takes, but by whether the team wins.

That is how I increasingly view the role of a CEO.

My responsibility is to help put our team in a position to succeed — to create clarity, remove obstacles, allocate resources, and empower great people to do great work.

And on that day, our team absolutely delivered.

I left the event feeling incredibly grateful for the people we have at Hoffer Plastics. I was also reminded that I am not the hero of this story.

Our team is.

On the way home from a recent international business trip, I sat next to a politician whose politics I disagree with. I would even go so far as to say that in the past, I’ve thought they’ve stoked the divisiveness in our country. I am quite confident of two other things: 1. they would disagree with my last statement, and 2. I am willing to admit that there are individuals on both sides of the aisle who engage in that kind of behavior. 

Anyhow, just before going through the pre-flight safety announcements, I got up to get one last thing out of the overhead compartment. I made eye contact with this person, and they said, “Can you leave it open so I can put something in there as well?” 

I smiled and said yes. 

The next thing I did was reach out my hand and introduce myself. 

They reached out their hand and let me know what their name was. 

A few hours later, I was reminded that at 38,000 feet, we are all on the same team — people trying to get home. 

Why don’t we remember that on the ground? 

Why don’t we remember that, despite our differences, we are people on the same team trying to get home? 

I cannot speak for this individual…

But I am at my best when I remember that my job is to share the love of Jesus with everyone I come in contact with. 

I did this to the best of my ability on this flight. 

As I’ve said before, leadership is the process of doing things with and through other people. Therefore, a leader needs to be someone worth following. 

In other words, if no one follows you, you are not a leader. 

I’ve found June a good time to do some inventory on my personal development. After all, if you are not growing, learning, changing, and improving, are you worth following? 

Here are some personal development fundamentals I’ve practiced in the first half of 2025. The list is not exhaustive, nor is it in any kind of order. 

• Success statements: I began the year focusing on success statements, and they’ve become a recurring theme in my planning. I now use them to prepare for business and personal trips. For example, before attending the Plastics Industry Fly-In meetings, I shared three success statements with my Executive Coach to clarify my goals. I apply the same approach when planning family trips.
  
• Making small tweaks rather than large changes: In February, I started taking notes while reading the Bible to refresh my study routine. This simple change freed me from over-analyzing my reading plan and allowed me to focus on the actual text. Similarly, I have discovered that small tweaks to the org chart are often more effective than large changes. Why? There is less disruption and often the tweaks make the organization flow with greater clarity. 
• Reexamine inputs weekly: While listening to a Founders podcast one Monday morning in April, I realized that my mental energy — whether positive or negative — might be the most important thing I bring to our Monday morning meetings. This insight reminded me to be intentional about how I prepare my mindset.
  
• Say it all, preferably in person: This year I’ve focused on asking direct, challenging questions face-to-face. The key breakthrough has been learning to ask from genuine curiosity rather than judgment. I now check my motivation: Am I asking out of concern? Or am I asking out of pride, anger, or frustration? People respond better, and I’m more effective as a leader when my questions come from genuine concern.
  
• Make time for positive relationships: In April, I had dinner with my friend Tony — and it truly uplifted my soul. Often, I don’t feel like I have time for that sort of thing. I am wrong.
  
• Confess daily: I screw up all the time, and spend a lot of time in confession. I do not know how leaders go through their journey without confession and repentance.
  
• Focus is now a separator: I am at my best when I intently focus on something and do deep work. So are you. But I struggle with doing this. I imagine you do as well. To be someone worth following, we need to grow the focus muscle. Success statements help us focus on the few things that lead to our success. 
• Go 3D on what matters: A customer who has become both mentor and friend gave me valuable advice about reading. They said the trend is to go 2D on many, many books. “But,” they advised, “you need to go 3D on what matters.”
  
• Reread books that make you think, smile, and cry: Yes, you need an outlet for your emotions. I am human enough to admit that. Re-listening to Unbroken in the first half of the year was one of my favorite moments.
  
• Use words: Tell your spouse, kids, and coworkers how much they matter. Positive affirmation is rare these days. They crave it.
   
• Call your mom: Yes, this is on a list of personal development because it is still important. The first half of this year was a reminder that life continues to move quickly. I caught myself, sometime in the middle of winter, going through my to-do list so rigidly that too much time had gone by without calling my mom in Florida. I fixed that immediately. 

These fundamentals aren’t complicated or revolutionary — they’re simple practices that, when consistently applied, make the difference between managing tasks and truly leading people.

This past December, I spent some time creating a personal development plan. In it, I clarified my leadership themes for the upcoming year and identified the books and podcasts I plan to explore. 

Today, I’ll share those themes with you. I hope reading my themes will encourage you to develop your own, clarify your intentions, and focus on the right things.

Here are my leadership themes for 2025: 

I am practicing a slowed-down spirituality.

Reflecting on how I led others in 2024, I realized I was often in a hurry. And I realized this wasn’t a good way to share Jesus’s love in my leadership. After all, Jesus was never in a hurry. No Scripture states that Jesus “ran” to the next obligation. Rather, Jesus walked, prayed, and spent time in solitude. 

Regardless of what you believe about Jesus, his life exemplifies how one stays present in the moment and how one should interact with people lovingly. This, of course, oversimplifies the Gospels, but you get the point. 

I am a better person when I practice a slowed-down spirituality. This starts with my morning Bible reading, extends to a mid-day five minutes of stopping and being in solitude, and finishes with a devotional reading, gratitude journal, and an evening prayer with Sarah. 

Certainly, there’s plenty of chaos between work, kid’s activities, and all the other things that come with being a husband, father, friend, and co-CEO. But sticking to this discipline has helped me slow down and remember the most important reality of life: I am not God. Therefore, I must look vertically to Him and find my energy, wisdom, and everything else I need from Him. 

I am leading with optimism and a growth mindset. 

Reflecting on the final month of 2024, I realized I was starting to have a fixed mindset toward others—a belief that people cannot change. A growth mindset, on the other hand, recognizes that people can grow and change. As a leader, it is my job to grow people. Therefore, I must embrace this role and make it my top priority. 

In other words, December’s frustrating results were ultimately the result of my leadership. Not only do I have to grow as a leader, but I also have to help others on that journey. 

To do this and lead with optimism, I am primarily focusing my personal growth studies on optimistic leaders. I will also read about many people I admire: the books by Teddy Roosevelt and Abraham Lincoln are already in the queue. I am also paying attention to the Founders podcast I mentioned in December to learn from entrepreneurs. 

I am doing the best that I can do. 

Last May, our executive team underwent a multi-session Enneagram training, during which I learned I was an Enneagram Type 1. As such, I am extremely hard on myself. I have an “inner-self critic” that loudly voices all my shortcomings in my head. 

Sarah and I were watching an old season of The Amazing Race with our kids last fall when I saw the phrase “I am doing the best that I can do” in action. (Retroactive spoiler alert!) In Season 33, Penn and Kim Holderness win the race. At some point along the way, Kim talks about her anxiety and how when it strikes, she reminds herself that she is “doing the best she can do.”  Her vulnerability was both inspiring and instructive. 

Since then, I have turned this phrase into a question: Am I doing the best that I can do? Often, the answer is yes. When it is, I tell that inner critic to be quiet. When the answer is no, I regroup and ensure I start doing the best I can. After all, this is all any of us can do. 

Time is limited; I am “living like I am dying.” 

In late 2024, I found myself overwhelmed by memories of Christmas celebrations with my grandparents, all four of whom have passed away. As I watch my own children growing up so quickly, these memories have taken on new meaning. They’ve awakened in me a profound realization: our time is precious and limited.  Like the Tim McGraw song, I want to live like I am dying. To me, this equates to embracing each day fully, living with intention and presence, and knowing that every moment is a gift that shouldn’t be taken for granted.

While I want to be grateful for the past and optimistic about the future, I also want to soak up every moment of today. 

Clarifying my themes for 2025 has already been a massive help for me starting the year well. What does 2025 hold for you? I encourage you to take the time to clarify your themes! 

Instead of writing one last blog post to wrap up the year, I am doing something different. In an attempt to provide value to you, the reader, I am going to share some of the most valuable resources I have utilized this past year:

Three Business/Leadership Books Worth Reading  

I read (or listen to) a lot of books throughout the year. While there are several honorable mentions, the three books listed below are so far ahead of the rest that they deserve special mention. You would do well by focusing on these three books in 2025.

1. Clear Thinking by Shane Parrish: “Few things will change your trajectory in life or business as much as learning to think clearly. Yet few of us recognize opportunities to think in the first place.”  

2. Unreasonable Hospitality by Will Guidera: “The must-read New York Times bestseller that’s redefining hospitality and inspiring readers in every industry. “  

3. From Strength to Strength by Arthur C. Brooks: “The roadmap for finding purpose, meaning, and success as we age, from a bestselling author, Harvard professor, and the Atlantic’s happiness columnist.”

Two Podcasts Worth Listening To 

I have an on-again, off-again relationship with podcasts. It’s sort of like George Costanza’s “It’s not you, it’s me” because I am commitment-challenged with podcasts. With that caveat, here are my latest crushes:

• The Rest is History: Hosts Tom Holland and Dominic Sandbrook are engaging and fun and allow for differences in opinion. I started with a series on how the Nazis came to power, then did one on the Kennedy assassination, and another on 1968 America. All were phenomenal. 

• Founders: Shout out to Dr. Brian Hollett for this recommendation. The Founders is an extremely efficient and engaging way to learn from history’s greatest entrepreneurs. I have only listened to a couple so far, but this will be a staple in my podcast rotation. 

One Historical Subject Worth Studying 

I’ve always been interested in Napoleon, but my fascination with him deepened this year after two events: discovering my ancestral connection to Andreas Hofer (whom Napoleon executed, according to my great-grandfather’s 1920s writings) and an inspiring October trip to Paris. 

While there are countless excellent resources on Napoleon, including many podcasts and books (I’m currently 600 pages into Andrew Roberts’ biography), the most compelling reason to study Napoleon is his fundamental role in shaping modern Europe. Without understanding Napoleon’s impact, it’s impossible to grasp how today’s European institutions, legal systems, and national boundaries came to be. 

And a Few Final Lessons to Cap the Year

I began this post by jotting down several lessons I’ve learned but have since trimmed my list to these final three: 

1. Prioritize what matters. I wrote about this a lot in the fall, most notably in my 10/14 post about rediscovering my priorities.   
2. Embrace rest, solitude, and Sabbath. Pastor Pete Scazzero often teaches on The Emotionally Healthy Leader Podcast that “you cannot give what you do not possess.” It is only out of our abundance that we can give to others. Therefore, rest/solitude/sabbath (all three!) are vital to a healthy leader. I am at my best when embracing my limits so that I can rest, be in solitude, and observe the Sabbath.  
3. Don’t presume you have extended or limited time left.  Pastor John Piper made this point in episode 2096 of the Ask Pastor John podcast, and it really stood out to me. I presume I have decades left because the odds are on my side — for now! But there are no guarantees. Therefore, I need to soak up every second I have left. (And as Piper points out, the same can be said for someone in their 80s. They presume they don’t have decades left, but how do they know?). Simply put, human beings do not have control over their days. 

Come back in January, when I’ll share the leadership tool that had the most significant impact on my work during 2024. Until then, Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, and Happy New Year. 

I invested a lot of time and money in my golf game over the winter months. Not satisfied with how last year went, I hired a new teacher late in 2023. Two things made it a sacrifice: He is one of the top teachers in the area and commands a lot of money for that expertise, and he is about a one-hour drive from my house. Both forced me to really commit to the process. 

In February, I traveled to Florida and played in a one-day event — the second time in 2024 I was hitting off real grass. And I’m not going to lie — it was absolutely brutal. I carded the highest score I’ve had in years. Even my handicap app was worried, popping up with the notification, “This is outside the norm of what you typically log. Are you sure you want to proceed?”  

The following day, at 3 a.m., I concluded that I should just “retire” from semi-competitive golf. Forget those few club tournaments I play in; I thought I should just play golf for “fun.” 

Later that morning, I started praying about it because that’s what I do in these situations. I believe that God cares more about the person I am becoming than what I do. So I sought him — and what follows are the lessons I learned.

The Price of Not Playing

First, I came to understand that I’ll one day retire from golf. That is inevitable, period. Bottom line. But doing so today is not free. While competition always exposes what’s going on inside — emotions such as anxiety, stress, and even shame — not playing may bring about something even darker. What might that be? 

Regret. 

Let me say that again. While I don’t need to play golf as part of who I am, if I don’t play it competitively at this point of my life — as a way to help reduce my stress and anxiety — I see this as a cop-out for me. 

And I would regret it later. 

How do I know this? 

I know this because, if I’m really honest, I didn’t play golf in college because I was scared. 

I was afraid to fail publicly. 

I was afraid that I’d never make the Purdue golf team. 

I was afraid that I’d never be the kind of golfer my goals demanded.

I’ve battled this regret for twenty years. And while it might not be the kind of regret that makes me seek professional help, it still lurks in the background.  

As the years have passed, I have come to understand that the battle is where the growth comes. And playing golf — both the actual playing of the game and how it makes me feel — helps me grow. 

Staying in the Battle

So, I am remaining in the battle. 

I’m prepared to struggle, fight, and fail. 

I’m prepared to dance with my inner demons if and when the yips enter my chipping game. 

I’m prepared to wrestle the inner voice that shames me when I three-putt a green. 

I’m prepared to speak truth to the shame that can overcome me when I compare myself to my dad’s incredible golf game. He has never pressured me, so why do I allow that shame a moment in my heart? 

You may not play golf, but there is a battle you are facing. 

Friend, I’m bearing my soul here so you know you are not alone. 

Almost every leader I know has fears and anxiety and has to wrestle with the demon of shame. And let’s be clear that it is a demon! 

I encourage you to find your identity in the truth. My North Star is now, and forever, Jesus, and there is no shame with him. 

So, I am going to soldier on. 

I am going to show up. 

And when I fail — when I am tempted to give up and cannot sleep — I will remember that this is where the growth happens. 

And one day, I will succeed because of this growth. 

Until I do…

And until you do…

Let’s keep going.