The Distance Between Then and Now

A few weeks ago, I was reminiscing with a long-time friend about our high school days. He asked me what my favorite memory was.

That was easy. Playing croquet in the senior garden during lunch. We’d quickly scarf down our lunch and head outside to play when the weather was nice. We weren’t good. We just laughed, swung mallets like high school boys would, and competed over nothing that mattered.

Then he asked what my worst memory was. I paused… and came up blank. I genuinely had to hunt for something terrible. Eventually I thought of a tough Latin teacher senior year, but that was about it.

Sure, there were tough classes, social pressures, the usual teenage growing pains. But years later, none of it really stands out anymore. What I remembered most wasn’t the struggle. The first things that came to mind were the random memories with friends. 

And that struck me. Because in leadership and in life we don’t always have that kind of perspective in the moment. 

When we’re in the thick of things — juggling decisions, plans, people, and deadlines — every challenge feels urgent and important. There are too many plates spinning, too many fires to put out, too many expectations to meet.

But over time, perspective rewrites the story. What feels consuming now often becomes just another lesson that shaped how we lead. The distance between then and now creates the space for that perspective.

Most of what once felt unbearable became unremarkable or sometimes, foundational to our growth. We don’t always notice it while it’s happening. But almost always, it’s building our endurance and it’s shaping our journey. 

Every hard moment shapes how we lead, how we show up, and what we notice in others who are trying to do the same. If you’re in a hard season right now, remember you’ve been here before. Different situation, same uncertainty. And you made it through. This too will become a memory that shaped your presence, your patience, your way of leading.

No, I don’t have a framework for perspective. And I don’t think you need a 10-step process to survive it. Sometimes all we need is a reminder that you just need to keep showing up with the same resilience that’s carried you through every other chapter.

Because one day, when someone asks what your best and worst memories of this season were, I hope the good ones shine brighter, you’ll smile, and you’ll know the hard parts faded into the lessons that shaped the kind of person you became.