There is a particular kind of quiet that lives in those rooms. The kind where you sit in a plastic chair and tell yourself you need to be strong — and what you actually mean is that you need to stay silent. No tears. No fear. Not here.

I used to think that was strength. I have come to believe it is something else.

The silence in the waiting room is not the problem. The problem is when it follows you home. When you don’t tell your wife how scared you really were. When you answer “I’m fine” before anyone even asks.

Grit isn’t built in the quiet. It’s built when you finally say, out loud, what you’ve been carrying. Not falling apart — just telling one honest thing to one safe person. That’s where it starts.

Go Deeper

The First Step to Overcoming Any Challenge
What Grit Really Means and How to Practice It When Things Get Hard
Read More →

Sit With This

What is one thing you've been carrying in silence that you haven't named out loud yet — even to yourself?

That’s all for now.

Until next week,

Kris

Hammons.

Oh, how I hated having that name.

I grew up with two fathers. My biological dad battled alcohol and gambling for much of his life. My step-dad walked into our lives having already endured profound loss of his own. Upon marrying my mom, he set out to build something quieter, something centered on family and less work, which was the reverse of the life he had lived. Both were imperfect, but as a child I only saw one thing: one father seemed present, the other absent. One felt dependable, the other disappointing. It took me years to understand that life is rarely that black and white.

By the time I was ten, I had already undergone more than twenty surgeries thanks to complexities from a rare type of dwarfism. Childhood, for me, was a rhythm of hospitals, recovery rooms, and uncertainty, and my biological dad never quite seemed to know what to do with a child who required so much from the world around him. I understand that now in a way I couldn’t as a kid.

I have four children of my own today, two of them with significant medical needs and surgeries of their own due to dwarfism. I know what it’s like to carry fear into a doctor’s office, to sit with uncertainty through a sleepless night, to watch your child suffer while wishing you could trade places with them. What I’ve learned is that we don’t all respond to that kind of pain the same way. Some of us lean in. Some of us avoid it entirely. For years, I resented him for choosing the second.

Then, for years after that, I did everything I could to prove I wouldn’t become him. I chased stability, consistency, presence. I wanted my marriage to look different, my fatherhood to look different, my whole life to stand as proof that I was not my biological dad. Somewhere in that chase, my determination quietly attached itself to my last name.

I hated what I had experienced that last name Hammons represented.

Years earlier, my mom and step-dad had offered my biological father a way out: if he voluntarily terminated his parental rights so I could be adopted, they would forgive years of unpaid child support.

He refused.

My mom and stepdad had recently gotten married and were looking to build a life of their own. My stepdad was 17 years older than my mom and now living on a fixed income following an injury on the job that ended my stepdad’s 30+ year career in road construction.

I believe that deep down, they wanted to utilize legal processes to pressure my biological father into giving up his rights. But with their lives ahead of them, they had little appetite for a years-long legal battle.

I didn’t care about the legal logic of any of it. I just wanted a different story than the one his name seemed to be writing for me. To my stepdad, I talked about it often. If only I could shed myself of this name.

One evening, after another rant about changing it someday, my step-dad sat there and listened patiently before rendering his verdict.

“Just because you don’t like what your dad has done, or what the Hammons name has come to stand for, doesn’t mean you can’t change it.”

I stared back at him, confused. “What do you mean?”

He continued.

“You get to decide what that name means now. You can be like the other Hammonses, or you can build your own legacy.”

I never brought it up again.

Not because I suddenly agreed with him, but because something about what he’d said lodged itself somewhere deep inside me, and stayed there.

What my stepdad was actually telling me had nothing to do with a last name. He was telling me that a different name would never make me less like my father, only my decisions could do that. A name wasn’t going to determine who I became. My habits would. My character would. The choices I made when nobody was looking would. He was trying to free me from something I didn’t even know I was carrying: the belief that inheritance was destiny.

It isn’t. We don’t get to choose our inheritance. We do get to choose our legacy.

I’ve come back to that distinction often as a father myself, because my own children won’t inherit perfection either. They’ll inherit me. My strengths, my shortcomings, my unfinished work. The same way I inherited pieces of the men who came before me.

That’s the work of fatherhood, I think. Not perfection. Stewardship.

Taking what we’ve been given and deciding what gets carried forward. No matter how broken the road behind you, you still get to build the one in front of you. It’s a fitting lesson, I suppose, coming from a man who spent thirty years building roads for a living.

Maybe that’s why Father’s Day feels different to me.

For a long time, I thought it required choosing. Celebrating one father, resenting the other, holding gratitude in one hand and disappointment in the other. I don’t think that’s what it’s about anymore. Father’s Day was never meant to celebrate perfect fathers. It was meant to honor imperfect men who left us something worth carrying forward.

And that, I think, is the real distinction worth naming: inheritance is what we’re handed: the name, the wiring, the wounds, the patterns we never chose. Legacy is what we build with it.

Resilience doesn’t come from getting a better hand. It comes from the gap between the two. The daily, unglamorous decision to take what you were given and build something sturdier.

You don’t get to choose your inheritance. But the legacy your kids inherit from you is still being written, one ordinary day at a time.

Happy Father’s Day.

Keep showing up to the inheritance.
Keep building the legacy.

We seldom fear the known. It’s the unknown that unsettles us.

Not the confirmed diagnosis, but the waiting.
Not the result, the “what if.”
Not the outcome, the uncertainty.

“What if it’s worse than I think?”
“How will I handle it?”
“Where will this lead?”

That’s where most of our anxiety lives. In the space between imagination and reality.

It’s in this in-between state that we are most likely to hesitate. We research. We rationalize. We wait. We try to convince ourselves we’re being prudent.

But in reality, we’re avoiding the first step to actually “pushing through” that challenge or setback.

A Pop in the Shower

A few weeks ago, I was standing in the shower when I suddenly heard (and felt) a pop in my left thigh.

It wasn’t dramatic. There was no fall. No sharp pain.

Just a unmistakable shift in how my left hip felt.

Thirteen months earlier, I had undergone a hip replacement in that same hip. It was the second replacement I had done in 2024, starting on the right hip. Hip replacements are often routine, but it is more complex and done earlier in life for many patients like myself with dwarfism. With this complexity in mind, I sought out a surgeon in New York City to do them.

While the right hip replacement was a smooth replacement, the surgeon and his team noticed compromised bone in the left hip and placed additional hardware and a bone graft to reinforce the femur. So when I felt the pop, my mind immediately tried to normalize it.

“It’s probably just a muscle sliding awkwardly around the support bands.”

There wasn’t much pain at first. Only instability. I hobbled out of the shower and into my office, convincing myself it would settle with rest. We were snowed in anyway. I wasn’t going anywhere.

But over the next week, the instability worsened. The pain increased. Eventually, I found myself back on crutches, something I hadn’t needed since being cleared twelve weeks after surgery.

That alone was humbling.

After a week of self-reassurance, I finally contacted my surgeon to order an x-ray. Not because I believed something was seriously wrong. But because I needed to rule it out.

That, I’ve come to realize, is what showing up often looks like.

Not panic. Not drama. Just the willingness to face the possibility.

The Phone Call

The x-rays were sent to my medical team in New York City. I waited.

Mid-afternoon, my phone rang. It was the physician assistant who had worked closely with me through both hip replacements. She had seen me in clinic, managed my surgical incisions, walked me through recovery.

She asked how I was feeling.

“As long as I stay off my feet, I’m okay,” I told her.

Then she asked, “Did you fall?”

Her tone had shifted.

That’s when I knew.

She told me I had fractured my femur — in the same area as the implant. Not only that, I needed to be seen immediately. Tomorrow, if possible.

Within an hour, flights and a hotel were secured from Nashville to New York City. Then came the sentence that carries weight in moments like this:

“Don’t buy a return ticket yet.”

If the implant had shifted, surgery might be necessary. Quickly.

And just like that, the unknown was no longer theoretical.

The Choice

In moments like these, there is always a decision point.

You can panic.
You can cope through distraction.
Or you can face it.

Panic would have been understandable. Coping would have looked like minimizing it, making jokes, or trying to stay busy enough not to think about it.

Facing it meant booking the flight, showing up to the appointment, looking at the scan, and hearing the verdict — whatever it might be.

It meant choosing clarity over imagination.

That is what I mean when I talk about grit.

Not emotional suppression.
Not stoicism for appearance’s sake.

But directional courage. The willingness to move toward what is uncertain.

24 Hours Later

Twenty-four hours later, I found myself sitting in LaGuardia’s Terminal B awaiting my return flight home.

CT scans and a full evaluation had revealed that the implant was stable. No emergency surgery was required. I simply needed time for the fracture to heal.

The outcome wasn’t ideal. I would be off my leg for weeks and closely monitored. While there were plenty conversations with my medical team to be had, an emergency surgery was not needed.

What Showing Up Actually Means

When I say the first step to overcoming challenges is to show up, I don’t mean charging forward recklessly.

I mean this:

You name the thing.
You move toward it.
You take the next responsible step.
You make the appointment.

You have the hard conversation.

You open the financial statement.

You step on the scale.

You ask the question you’ve been avoiding.

You don’t solve the entire mountain. You take the next visible step toward clarity.

Clarity, even when difficult, is lighter than dread.

What Grit Is (and Isn’t)

For a long time, I thought grit meant enduring quietly. Don’t complain. Don’t slow down. Don’t need help.

I’ve since learned that isn’t grit. It’s isolation.

Grit is purposeful engagement with what is hard.

It is not blind endurance.
It is not grinding yourself into exhaustion.
It is not pretending that pain doesn’t exist.

Grit is the decision to face uncertainty with honesty.

It is showing up to yourself when avoidance would be easier.

Showing up to your family when checking out would be simpler.

Showing up to your calling when doubt grows louder.

Grit is not about being unbreakable.

It’s about being willing to face what could break you — and stepping toward it anyway.

The Ripple Effect

When you show up to your challenges, other people are watching.

Your children are not studying whether you win. They are watching whether you face it.

Your spouse does not need perfection. She needs presence.

Your friends do not need a hero. They need an example.

Resiliency is contagious. But so is avoidance.

The First Step

If something in your life feels heavy or unclear right now, the invitation is simple:

Name it.

Share it with someone you trust.

Take one visible step within the next 48 hours.
Not the full solution. Just the next step.
The first step is always the same.

Show up.

Not perfectly.

Just honestly.

That is where overcoming begins.

That didn’t take long, did it?

It feels like just yesterday you were ringing in the New Year with friends and family. You blinked, and week one of 2026 is already gone.

A week ago.

In our never-stop pace of life, it feels like yesterday and forever ago all at once. Crazy how that works, isn’t it?

But loss reveals the opportunity for our next gain. One week down means there are 51 left.

So what are you going to do with it?

Regardless of the resolution or promise you made to yourself—and maybe already broke—there’s only one right answer to that question.

Show up.

Get back on the wagon.
Keep moving forward.
Keep showing up.

Here’s where most people get it wrong.

They think they failed because they lacked discipline.
They think the problem is motivation.

It isn’t.

Motivation is a spark.
Commitment is a practice.

And January is where we confuse the two every year.

Showing up doesn’t mean fixing everything at once.
It doesn’t mean perfect streaks or checking every box on an optimistic list you made with a drink in your hand.

Showing up is quieter than that.

Showing up is deciding that one bad day doesn’t get a vote on the rest of the year.
It’s refusing to let a missed workout, a short fuse, or a broken routine turn into a full stop.

Showing up looks like this:
You come back.

You come back the next morning.
You come back after you snapped at your kids.
You come back after ignoring the habit you said mattered.
You come back when the excitement is gone and no one’s watching.

That’s the work.

Not restarting.
Not reinventing.
Returning.

Growth doesn’t come from big moments.
It comes from choosing not to disappear.

Those 51 weeks aren’t a countdown.
They’re an invitation.

An invitation to decide—not once, but again and again—who you’re becoming.

Your kids won’t remember your resolutions.
They’ll remember your returns.
They’ll remember how often you came back after a hard day, a missed goal, or a moment you weren’t proud of.

That’s legacy.
Not perfection, but presence.

And if showing up feels harder than it should right now—if you’re a dad navigating the weight of special needs parenting, or a high achiever who’s successful on paper but disconnected from his deeper why—you don’t have to figure it out alone.

In February, I’m opening 24 spots for a small group coaching experience designed to help dads reconnect, rebuild, and move forward with clarity. It’s practical, grounded, and intentionally more accessible than traditional therapy or counseling—without sacrificing depth or honesty.

Once those 24 spots are filled, that’s it.

If you want to learn more, email me directly. No pitch. Just a conversation.

Sometimes the most important way to show up
is choosing to stay—and doing it with others.

PS: You don’t have to have it all figured out—just be willing to show up.

The headlines don’t slow down.

Shootings. Threats of war. Natural disasters.

I wish we could shield our kids from all of it. But we can’t.

And last week’s assassination of Charlie Kirk reminded me once again: as parents, we don’t get to choose whether tragedy happens—we only get to choose how we guide our kids through it.

1. Put It Down

The moment after the news broke, my phone lit up with texts. Some friends were close to the unfolding situation. Others had already seen a gruesome video that began circulating online. Several warned me immediately: “Don’t watch it.”

I texted my wife: “Don’t let the kids on YouTube for the rest of the day. This video is going to go viral.”

No matter what opinions we may form about Charlie Kirk, no child needs to watch a man shot and killed on screen. Ever.

As a general rule, when a tragedy hits the headlines, our first step as parents is to cut off the feed. Turn off the news. Put down the phone. Step away from YouTube, TikTok, Instagram Reels.

Kids don’t need the unfiltered flood of mainstream news or social content in the heat of a crisis. What they need most is our presence.

2. Be Aware of Your Response

Fear and anxiety aren’t invisible. They show up in our voices, our tone, our body language.

Long before we say anything, our kids can sense it.

In fact, they’re watching us even more closely when the world feels unsafe. The way I carry myself—the pacing in my voice, the way I close the laptop, the distracted look in my eyes—communicates something about how serious this is and how I’m handling it.

Our actions always speak louder than words.

So, before I speak to my kids about what’s happening out there, I have to first check what’s happening in here—inside me.

3. Tell What’s Happening (and Name the Narratives)

This part changes depending on your kids’ ages.

If your kids are young, keeping explanations short, clear, and age-appropriate is best. But once they’re pre-teens or teens, chances are they’re already exposed to a flood of takes and opinions online.

That means silence is not an option.

So we talk. We ask questions. We share not just the facts but our own reactions—our fears, our sadness, and even our anger. And we also name the narratives that drive those reactions.

For example: “I’m sad about this because life is sacred. And I believe every life matters deeply to God. That’s why violence like this shakes me to my core.”

This does two things:

• It gives our kids language to process their own feelings.

• It models how to think critically about what they see and hear online.

Because the truth is, they’re going to hear hot takes. They’re going to encounter biases. They’re going to see how different worldviews frame the same event in opposite ways.

We can’t shield them from that forever. But we can prepare them to filter it with wisdom.

The Bigger Picture

Here’s what I’ve been reminded of this week: raising resilient kids doesn’t mean raising kids who never feel fear, sadness, or anxiety.

It means walking with them through those feelings—teaching them how to name what’s happening, how to respond with calm, and how to root their identity in something bigger than the chaos of the world.

That’s what grit looks like in moments like these. It’s not just white-knuckling your way through the storm. It’s purposeful growth—learning how to be present, honest, and grounded when life feels out of control.

We can’t stop tragedy. But we can guide our kids toward resilience. And that may be the most important gift we give them for the world they’ll inherit.

Your Turn

How do you talk to your kids about tragic events?

Do you lean toward shielding them—or letting them process openly with you?

I’d love to hear your thoughts. Drop a comment below so we can learn from one another.

Today marks an exciting time for Growing Grit.

I’ve been thinking a lot about new things—and why they matter so much.

One of the most common conversations I have with my kids is about trying something unfamiliar. Whether it’s a new class, a new sport, or just introducing themselves to someone new, that first step always comes with fear and anxiety. And if I’m honest, it’s not just them—I still feel it too.

But here’s what I’ve learned, over and over:

When I step into something new, it always pays off.

In 2022, I decided to share my story publicly on LinkedIn. I didn’t know how it would go, but I showed up daily for a year, just to build a writing habit and find my voice. That season helped me 10x my audience—and more importantly, gave me clarity on what I wanted to say.

In 2023, I launched this very newsletter—Growing Grit—with hardly an audience. I didn’t have it all figured out, but I started. I wrote semi-weekly, finding out through trial and error who I was writing to and why it mattered.

At the start of 2024, I hit pause for a bit. But we’re back now. Still not as consistent as I want to be—but moving forward. And doing something new again.

Today, I want to let you know we’re making a shift: Growing Grit is moving to Substack.

I’ve been happy with the platform I used before, but it’s time to try something different. It may be temporary, or it may be the new long-term home. Either way, it’s another reminder to myself—and to you—that doing something new isn’t just how we grow grit. It’s how we grow.

So this week, whether it’s something at work, something with your kids, or something you’ve put off because it feels uncomfortable—I want to challenge you:

Don’t just do hard things. Do new things.

Even if it’s awkward.
Even if it’s messy.
Even if you don’t have it all figured out.

Because the truth is, you never really will. And that’s okay.

We learn by doing.

We grow by starting.

And we get stronger—not in theory, but in motion.
So here’s to whatever your new thing is this season.
You’ve got more in you than you think.

Let’s keep growing grit—together.

Subscribe now

At some point you’ve felt fear. For some of you, maybe that was leading up to the events of last week’s election.

And for others, it’s been since the events of last week’s election.

Some respond to fear with anxiety.
Others respond to fear with strength.

Either way, this much is true.

Fear is real.

I felt this feeling often in 2017 during moments when my wife and I would lose our medically needs son, Zacchaeus.

There were days we were gripped by fear, and other days we let fear be our patway ro faith.

Those were the days that we showed up. Not just to our son, but to eahc other. When we spoke out loud just how scared we were and what we were most afriad of.

You will feel fear at some point in your life.

But it doesn’t get to be in the driver’s seat of your life.

Don’t ignore it, either.

So here’s how to acknowledge the fear you are feeling with out giving it the steering wheel to your life.

Call it out.
Name what it is you are afraid of.
And share it with safe people around you.

That’s when your fear will turn into something else.

Faith.

P.S. If you want to learn more about how to face your biggest challengs yo you can overcome them, book a call with me or connect with me on LinkedIn, Instagram or X

This past Sunday night, I spent time with other dudes around a fire.

We talked life, politics and the week ahead.

“Who will win?”
“Will you be watching it go down?”
“Will it actually be over Tuesday night?”

These were all questions we asked and debated.

Then maybe the most important topic was brought up.

Loving others.

Particularly, what does it really mean to love across the aisle?

As we debated, a line hit me that I couldn’t help but blurt out.

“Love looks like engagement.”

After I said it, I realized how true those words were.

It’s not enough to simply acknowledge love for someone or a group of people.

You have to put those feelings and words to action.
You have to engage.

No matter how this week plays out.
Whether it’s the candidate you picked or not.

Remember to love.
Remember to engage.

“Are you apprehensive?”

This question was asked of me by my brother-in-law about my neck surgery happening on Tuesday of this week in New York City.

Been chewing on this off and on since he asked, so I wanted to share my thoughts with you too.

Do I have fear about the surgery? 

Yes, any surgery brings with it an element of fear of the risks involved. Especially with a surgery that involves the spinal cord.

It’s taken some processing, some (respectfully) challenging the surgeon, and feeling the sadness that comes with the grief. Grief that the path I had in mind of having both hips done this year is not the path that will be reality.

God has laid out a different path.

His path is always better than mine.

So my job is to learn to love the thing that I wish had not happened and move forward.

So am I apprehensive and hesitant to move forward?

Not one bit.

Happy Grit Growing.

A quick reminder to those looking for lasting success.

Forget life hacks.

Instead, focus on habits.

Habits will give you results that life hacks can’t.

Let me explain …

In 2022, writers and content creators on LinkedIn saw the potential of generative AI, that was relatively new at the time. Many of them went head first, seeing how they could leverage the technology to write content for them.

Those who simply wanted a shortcut to create content flamed out.

But I wanted something different.

I had aspirations to write a book.

But knew that I’d never get anywhere in that goal if I didn’t have these 3 things:

• A voice

• An audience

• A writing habit

After dabbling inconsistently with different post ideas I had a little success and grew my audience to around 500 followers.

But I was ready to double down on the habit.

So starting in April of that year, I began a journey to post 365 straight days.

At the end of that journey, I had:

• Nearly 4000 new followers

• A voice that resonated with that audience

• An writing habit that no one could take away from me

Soon after, I started “Growing Grit", and began making serious progress on the book.

All because I focused on doing the same thing, every single day.

Hacks might show you a nifty shortcut, but you’ll forget it in an hour.

Build a habit, and you will experience change that lasts.

The long game always wins.

Stop trying to make the hard things easy.

Instead, strive to make the hard things consistent.

Here's to growth and grit. 👊

In April of 2024, I had my first of two hip replacements.

It was something I should have done years ago.

Yet, somehow I found excuse after excuse, convincing myself I wasn’t “ready”.

Here’s why that was a lie:

We are never truly “ready” for any challenge that life throws our way.

Just like I wasn’t “ready” to be born with dwarfism.
I wasn’t “ready” to have any of the 20+ surgeries I’ve had.
I wasn’t “ready” to narrowly escape a bus fire.

Instead of getting ready, those challenges forced me to do something much more effective.

Take action.

I refused to give up.
I took steps to beat any surgery recovery timeline.
I ran to the back of the bus and out the escape door.

All intentional steps.
Nothing was on accident.

Instead of believing your aren’t ready for your next big project or challenge.

Take action.

It seems insurmountable.

But you can do this.

Yes, you can get unstuck.

How?

Here are a few tactics to get you started:

• Journaling

• Saying it out loud

• Sharing in trusted spaces

Let’s dive in …

Journaling

Enough cannot be said about the power of journaling. This doesn’t need to be planned, structured or thought out. Just sit down and write. Get whatever is inside of you out.

Those who simply put their grievances to paper report an boost to their mood, healthier relationships and even fewer doctors visits!

Say it out loud

If a blank page overwhelms you, try just saying it out loud. You’re not giving a speech here, so keep it simple. If you get emotional, that’s OK. If it leads you to a place of silence and prayer to God, even better.

One caveat with saying out loud is that I wouldn’t recommend doing this exclusively alone. It’s a good place to start, but make sure you are not saying it alone to avoid sharing it with others.

Speaking of sharing it with others …

Share in a safe space

Saying it out loud and journaling are important steps to processing your challenges, how you are feeling about them. But I am a believer that humans were created for connection and community. Creating a safe space where you can share your challenges and how you are experiencing them is so vital.

This can be a trusted family member, a lifelong friend or even a counselor or therapist. What you will discover is that other people have faced similar challenges and struggles. As you open up and share this, you will feel the pressure lifted and you will no longer feel a sense of loneliness in that.

If are facing a challenge or frustration but don’t have a community to turn to, book time with me (for Free). I’d love to connect, listen and see if there’s any way I can help.

Book a call with me here.

No matter what tactic(s) you choose, get those challenges out of your head so you can face them with courage and grit.

Happy Grit Growing.

I would tell you that it was transformational, but that wouldn’t do it justice.
 
A few years ago, I found myself:
 
Frustrated.
In a fog.
Stuck.

Because I believed that expressing emotion was a sign of weakness, I refused to speak up or ask for help.

So I never talked about my story:
 
- 20+ surgeries.
- Nearly dying as a baby.
- Complications from dwarfism.
 
So, I got pretty good at “suck it up buttercup”, but never reflected on how I truly felt about it.
 
Living this way took its toll.

I was lonely.
I had no one I felt I could really go deep with.
I was disconnected from God and His plan for my life.

My relational, emotional and spiritual life was more than suffering. It was on life support.

Then I found a life-changing spiritual wellness group coaching experience, called Plumline.

For 12 sessions, I sat among 6 others who found themselves in a similar place.

Together, we bravely faced some of our life’s hardest challenges.
 
For the first time, faced how I felt about my own story, and began to see the lies I had been living under.
 
It was more than talking to strangers.
It was transformational.
 
If you feel isolated.
If you feel overwhelmed by the pace of life.
If you feel disconnected from God’s plan for you.
 
There is hope.

That's why earlier this year, I set out to train so that I can lead my own Plumline cohort.

I'm looking for 6 people looking to to dive deep for my very first cohort that will meet virtually starting in February 2025.

Plumline is more than a Bible study or social group.

It is a proven process.

Participants who complete a Plumline cohort report a 23% improvement in relational and spiritual wellness.

If you are ready to join me and drive deep, click the link below to book a free 30-minute call to learn more.

Schedule your FREE 30-minute Zoom call with me

This might seem over the top.

But this is the EASIEST question to answer about grit.

Answer: Now more than ever.

By now, we’ve all seen or heard about the assassination attempt on Former President Trump and the subsequent fallout.

I’m no expert. I don’t know all the details. I don’t claim (or want to be) a political pundit. But I do know what we, as a broader society, is fiercely divided.

Which is why now is the time for grit.

Grit is having a strong opinion while holding it loosely.
Grit is taking a stand without losing your humanity.
Grit is valuing people over positions.

As we go full steam head towards Election season, remember this.

You have a voice.
You have a community.
You have a purpose to live out.

Because no matter who wins in November, if you are living without that purpose, you’ve already lost.

Yes, we need grit now more than ever.

Happy Grit Growing.

Sometimes, we have to be reminded how good we have it.

Allow me to explain.

But first, a quick story …

10 years ago, my wife and I moved to Nashville with two young children under the age of 3. Our move here was prompted by an opportunity to work for Dave Ramsey’s team. Still in debt, we lived in a small rental house in Franklin, a suburb of Nashville.

Our monthly rent was steal, especially by today’s standards, for a 3-bedroom ranch in the Franklin area. The best part was that because we were stable renters, our landlords never raised our rent during our 3+ years there.

I remember dreaming about getting out of debt so we could start saving for a house.

That goal seemed so far away.

Then, in 2017, our 3rd child was born with major medical complications related to having dwarfism. He remained in the NICU for over 10 months before we could bring him home.

Then we brought him, and his medical equipment home. We quickly realized that our 1100 square feet rental was becoming an issue. So, I began crunching numbers, and projected we were around 6 months away from home ownership being financially viable.

Months that still felt years away.

Then it happened.

My wife’s best friend called her and said she saw a “For Sale by Owner” sign, about a mile from where we were renting. The house had to at least be double the space we currently had.

It was an older neighborhood with houses that seldom hit the market, and when they did, they didn’t last long.

And it was 30% below market value, and 100% financially viable.

Two months later, we closed on that house.

It was a gift.

When we least expected it.

So when I poured my coffee this morning, I decided to move a patio chair tot the back of our yard so I could spend more time in the shade.

I sat down and was immediately taken back by this seemingly basic house, and how unattainable home ownership used to feel.

Then I start to wonder.

What new dreams and goals feel unattainable today that we will one day look back on?

Then, I am filled with gratitude.

Not for a house or accomplishment.

But for the journey.

All because I shifted my perspective.

If you are in need of a boost.

If you are feeling stuck, frustrated, or just realize you haven’t taken the time to reflect on your life and family.

Take a step back, change your perspective and you’ll start to see just how far God has brought you.

How those once unattainable dreams are now reality.

And you’ll be ready to pray, hope, and dream again.

If you know someone who could use this encouragement, please share it with them!

“I’ll just grind it out.”

This is the answer I hear from far too many people going through a hard time when I ask them what the next step is.

It breaks my every time I hear it.

Because that’s not grit.

That’s someone putting their head in the sand, surviving, and hoping for the best.

“Grinding it out” never works, and here’s why.

Grinding is exhausting.
Grinding is ignoring.
Grinding is lonely.

We were built for more than passively wandering through our challenges by ourselves and wondering why we are so tired.

Instead of grinding, we should be growing our grit.

These 3 step will help you get started:

1. Reflect and journal regularly.

2. Name what you are facing.

3. Share with others.

Do these things regularly and you will go from grinding and surviving to connecting and overcoming.

Stop grinding away.

Start growing your grit.

Today.

The people who doubt themselves.

Those who hear my story of overcoming challenges with dwarfism, having 20+ surgeries before I was 18, all sa similar things.

“Your story is so inspiring, but I’m not that strong.”
“There’s no way I could do that.”
“I don’t know how you do it.”

As if I possessed some special power or God-given skill to overcome things that they don’t.

For years, I wasn’t sure how to respond. So I said nothing, silently agreeing with the lie that they chose to believe.

Some people have grit, and other’s down. Simple as that.

People are either gifted and excelled at overcoming things naturally or were doomed for a life of self pity and victim mentality.

Then my wife and I had our 3rd child.

He was born with breathing complications due to dwarfism, which kept him in the NICU for 10 months. His journey during that time was filled with ups and downs. His prognosis seemed to shift by the hour and there were days we weren’t sure if he would make it.

There were days when I would wonder if I could push through it. We were gripped with fear that we would become parents of a child who tragically passed away.

But there was a turning point where my wife and I realized that regardless of the outcome, we had a calling to fill. A calling to be by his side and fight along side him regardless of the end result.

That shift changed the narrative for us. It turned a stressful roller coaster we wanted off of into a moment of presence, faith and resiliency.

Our grit grew.

You are not stuck with what you start with.

You might feel ill-equipped to deal with life’s challenges or believe that you could never overcome what others have.

That’s not true.

And it’s the basis for the work I do. It’s why I started this newsletter. Why I show up to write. The message I hope to inspire the world with.

No matter where you are.
No matter what you are facing.
No matter how hard it might get.

You can grow your grit.

That might be perhaps the most common motivational advice ever given. It’s particularly valuable in this time of distractions, overthinking, victim mentality and imposter syndrome is wrecking our progress.

I agree 100% with it.

Never, ever quit.

That’s the mentality you have to have to make progress when things get hard.

Until it’s time to stop.

Like when:

That idea you’ve had isn’t working out.
You discover that dream job wasn’t so dreamy after all.
You realize that habit is wrecking your brain.

Stop.

Quitting is giving up.
Stopping is showing up.

Showing up to that habit that is destroying you.
Showing up to the realization that God has a better path for you.

Showing up beats giving up.

Every single time.

So never quit just because things get tough.

Stop the things that are wrecking you.

Have a great week,

Kris

P.S. Know someone who could use this message? Forward it to them!

The recovery process has been a great reminder for me. Sometimes, you just have to do what you can and start where you are.

Let me explain …

Moments after waking up from surgery, the surgeon stressed that I needed to stay off my newly replaced hip.

For six-weeks. 😂

This wasn’t something I expected. A quick Google search will show you the amazing advancements in joint replacements.

Many patients go home same day.

What I’ve learned since then is that the complex nature of my anatomy, and virtually having no hips, prompted doctors to take a delicate approach to my recovery.

As someone who goes all-in, this has been frustrating.

I was ready to start intense rehab.
I was ready to walk without pain.
I was ready to be on the move.

Instead I was limited to a few simple exercises and walking with a walker.

Felt so limiting, restrictive.

I hate feeling restricted.

But later it hit me.

I can still build new habits.
I can still make progress.
I can still get stronger.

So no matter where you find yourself right now.

No matter how long the road feels.

Start where you are.

Do what you can.

So during this down time of recovering of surgery, I’ve been asking myself what are some of the reasons “getting stuck” happens, especially with projects and initiatives that we say we care the most about?

Here’s what I’ve come up with so far:

• Refusing to start.

• Unwillingness to share.

• Lack of discipline to finish.

The internet is full of advice for handling each of these common reasons why we get stuck in out seemingly most important work.

So I am not going to do that.

Instead, I want to propose 3 questions:

1. What fear is preventing me from starting?

2. Who can I share this with?

3. Do I really care?

What fear is preventing me from starting?

It’s been my experience that starting is usually the hardest step to accomplish anything. Avoidance to start is simply letting procrastination win. Once I take that first step, I often find myself in a groove, all while wishing I had gotten started long earlier.

More often than not, when I reflect later, I realize that procrastination wasn’t the reason I didn’t start; fear was. Procrastination just happened to be the vehicle I chose to go down as a result of that fear.

So how do we handle the fear?

There are a lot of methods are dealing with fear. I won’t go into all of those methods here. But, a good first step is to name what that fear is and what else you might be feeling in addition to that fear.

A solid second step is to then find a safe person or group of people who you can share about that thing you are wanting to build or accomplish and how you’re feeling about it.

That leads me to the next question you should be asking if you feel stuck.

Who in my circle can I share it with?

The worst thing you can do when it comes to a project or work you truly care about is to do it in isolation. Yes, there are times when great work calls for deep focus and attention.

This is not what I referring to.

I am referring to that feeling that you have to have that thing perfectly “done” or the most thought out strategy in place before you can speak a word about it. That might sound safe, but it comes with a few big risks:

• You’re more likely to let perfectionism keep you from making progress.

• You’ll miss out on potentially valuable feedback that would have made your project or idea 100% times better.

You have to speak up to show up. Seek feedback early and often.

Do I care enough to finish?

This might be the most important question you can ask.

Maybe you started that project or big idea and realized that it wasn’t what you thought it would be or as fun to work on as you had hoped. This is actually a great thing. It’s better to discover that as early on as possible.

But you have to own that. Say it out loud, “This is not what I thought it was and I no longer want to pursue.” The worst thing you could do is to continue to lie t yourself and feel the shame that comes with not following through.

So if you still really do care, go ALL IN.

If not, don’t.

So there are the 3 questions I find super helpful to challenge myself with when I feel stuck.

If these questions help you out, please drop me a line and let me know. I’d love to hear from you.