The Quiet Realisation

After graduating from university many years ago, I found myself doing what many of us do at that stage of life, scanning the horizon for job opportunities and wondering where I might fit in.
One of those opportunities came in the form of Ford Motor Company, with a potential role based in Dagenham.
It was a great big opportunity, the kind I couldn’t ignore.
I progressed through the early stages of assessments and regional interviews. Then came the invitation to the final selection process.
Three days in Dagenham, a hotel stay and just twelve of us left from the thousands who had started.
The first two days went very well.
Each day, we were given feedback on how we were tracking, and I found myself in a strong position, close to securing one of only a handful of places.
I could even start to picture it. The job. The future. The direction my life might take.
Then came the tough final day.

Knowing

I recall a series of complex global transactions, multiple currencies, decisions under pressure, all in a team session, and closely observed. I remember sitting there, working through it all, with a growing sense that this wasn’t quite clicking.
And somewhere, in those few moments, being honest with myself – I knew.
By the end of the exercise, I had a quiet clarity, this wasn’t going to be for me.
At the time, it felt like a near miss, one of those “almost” moments.
But looking back now, it feels more like a gentle redirection.
This moment turned out to be an important one in my life.
Had I stepped into that commercial role, my whole life would have unfolded in different ways. I understood then, that choosing one path, let’s go of countless others.
Life has taught me that not getting something isn’t always a loss, rather it’s simply a realignment. And what feels like failure may simply be life steering you away from something that doesn’t quite fit.
I have learned too that you don’t always need the final result to know the answer. Sometimes you just know, and that quiet clarity has saved me a few times from chasing the wrong thing.
Looking back now, I’m genuinely grateful for those three days.
Because sometimes the opportunities we don’t get are the ones that quietly shape everything that comes next and help us understand who we are becoming.
Is there a path you didn’t take… that you’re now grateful for?

Twelve facilitators in a room…

It’s been quite a journey.

A year ago, this might have felt like a bit of a pipe dream for some at Aviva. But last week in London, it became very real.

For the first time, our full UK Lead the Way facilitation team came together for a couple of days in person. Twelve of us, all part of Aviva’s flagship leadership programme – Lead the Way, finally in the same room after months of working side by side from a distance.

What became obvious pretty quickly is just how much we enjoy working together.

There was a real buzz when this group got going.

Between us, there’s a huge amount of experience, and when we start sharing ideas, swapping stories and building on each other’s thinking, the energy lifts… along with the noise levels.

At times, we were probably one step away from needing a facilitator for the facilitators. 😃

There are also a few proper characters in the team, which really helps.

Strong opinions, quick wit, and just enough mischief to keep things interesting. In other words, plenty of laughter alongside the learning too.

It’s obvious that we’re a group who care deeply about what we do.

It came through in every conversation. At one point, someone described it as “violent agreement” – lots of energy, lots of perspectives, and a slightly chaotic way of realising we actually all agree.

The feedback on the programme so far has been pretty amazing, which we’re proud of.

But there’s no sense of “job done.” If anything, it’s the opposite.

There’s a shared drive to raise the bar even higher, and a real belief that the best days are still ahead of us, especially as we tap into the full mix of skills across our community of practice.

Two days that reminded us why this work matters… and confirmed that getting this group in a room together was a very good idea – especially day two, when a bigger room gave our energy (and volume) a bit more space.

What makes a team really click when you get them in the same room?

Hope in Extra Time

Yesterday, I found myself back at Hampden Park for the first time in many years.
Dunfermline vs Falkirk in the Scottish Cup semi-final.
Fans on both sides were filled with hope for a victory.
Kyle and Emily drove all the way up from Liverpool to see the game!
It had everything that you’d expect from a semifinal match – noise, colour, scarves in the air, and above all that shared sense of anticipation.
We bumped into a few familiar faces from Dunfermline too.
But the game itself… it was very tight, and to be honest… it wasn’t a great spectacle!
It certainly wasn’t a classic, nor one that I will rush to watch again.
90 minutes passed and it was still 0-0.
An extra 30 minutes played out too – then it was penalties.
Those tense few minutes turned into an incredible celebration victory for the Pars!
Unbelievably – they won!
As I drove home, I found myself thinking about how much of life feels a bit like that.
Dunfermline’s fans hopes were fulfilled with joyful smiles, laughter and singing all the way home with their eyes now firmly set on the final in a few weeks’ time.
Whilst the Falkirk fans… well, their hopes were dashed.
They left more quietly, with their heads lowered, carrying the disappointment of what might have been… and yet, perhaps, still holding on to the thought of better days ahead.
So, what is Hope?
In a general sense, I think hope is a feeling of desire and confident expectation that something good will happen in the future, a belief even that a specific desired outcome is indeed possible.
This morning, my mind turned to a more spiritual definition, it is the Sabbath after all.
The Gospel sense of hope is different.
“Happy is he,” said the Psalmist, “that hath the God of Jacob for his help, whose hope is in the Lord his God.” (Psalm 146:5)
Hope isn’t a certainty we can prove, but a quiet, steady trust that the Lord, Jesus Christ will do exactly what He has promised.
I know that with hope we can find joy in this life as we trust in God’s promises.
So perhaps, whatever “extra time” you find yourself in right now…
hold on to hope a little longer, because even there, I believe He is still at work.
Where in your life might you need to trust that just a little more today?

The Art of Not Hurrying

I tried a little experiment recently.
In my determination to slow down and ruthlessly eliminate the feeling of hurry, I deliberately…. yes, deliberately, forced myself to stand in the longest line at Tesco to pay for my groceries.
I must admit it was tough!
I even let another person into the line to go ahead of me.
That was pretty tough too!
Admittedly, to begin with there were a few downsides, and I felt a little anxious as I observed other lines and self-checkouts moving faster.
But there were a lot more upsides!
I engaged in several lovely conversations and somehow that felt like a much better outcome for me.
In fact, I noticed things I would normally miss… a smile, a comment, a bit of shared humour.
It felt less like “wasting time” and more like choosing how to spend it.
It actually felt good, to start slowing.
Choosing to wait, made hurrying impossible for me.
I know I need to practice and train a little more and find a few other ways to slow myself even more.
Can I survive without hurrying?!
Hmmm….
Do you find yourself rushing when in fact there is no need to?
Maybe the slow lane isn’t the worst place to be after all.
Next time, I might even choose it again… on purpose.
What’s your version of the slow queue?

Ladybirds in the Stairwell

Last week, Monic and I spent a few days at the Preston Temple.
It was nice just to slow down a little, pause and reflect.
In doing so, I began to notice some small things I would normally miss.
Twice during the week, I found a tiny ladybird trapped inside the temple stairwell.
I have no idea how they got there, but somehow, they were drawn in and unable to find their way back out.
Both times, I did the same simple thing.
I held out my hand, letting it climb on, and then carried it gently back outside to enjoy its freedom once more.
It was such a small, almost insignificant thing to do… and yet, it didn’t feel insignificant.
Because standing there, just for a moment, I found myself thinking:
How often do we find ourselves a little like that ladybird?
Drawn into something…
Then finding ourselves a little bit stuck.
Not quite sure how to find our way out again.

Freedom

And yet, as we exercise our faith in Jesus Christ, He provides a way.
Often, that way is found in the covenants we make with Him, those quiet promises that guide us back when we feel a little lost.
Not always in dramatic ways, but gently, quietly even.
Through small moments, small promptings… even small acts.
That simple moment reminded me of something I hadn’t fully seen before.
The temple isn’t just a place we go to serve.
It’s a place where help is available on both sides of the veil.
Where we are steadied.
And where, often without us even noticing, we are quietly set free.
Temples are places where we can find refuge from the storms of life.
Free from distraction.
Free from noise.
Free to remember who we are and what matters most.
It is, after all, a sacred, quiet place where, through Jesus Christ – heaven and earth meet.
Sometimes, all it takes is slowing down enough to notice.
I am so grateful for the temple, for its beauty, its peace, and for the way divine guidance comes through promptings and impressions from the Holy Ghost.
Where in your life might the Lord be quietly trying to lead you back to freedom?

Make it Fun

Sometimes, life can bring along difficult situations, hard or even tedious tasks at times.
Some tasks can just drain you, even just the thought of it!
Or am I alone in that thinking!?
You know the ones.
The long list.
The thing you’ve been putting off for a while.
Or even the bit of the day where your energy quietly slips out the room.
I’ve been noticing this a little more in our learning programmes at work with Aviva too.
There’s a very predictable moment, right after lunch.
We come back into the room…
And within minutes, you can almost feel the shift.
Energy dips.
The room gets quieter… but not in a good way.
And it’s nobody’s fault.
We’re all just human after all…
So, quite often these days, we’ve started doing something very simple.
We 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲 and have a little bit of 𝐟𝐮𝐧.
Nothing complicated.
Nothing forced.
Just a short, slightly playful energiser.
A quick activity.
A bit of movement.
Something that gets people talking, laughing, interacting again.
And without fail… it works.
Shoulders lift.
Eyes re-engage.
Learning comes back to life.
It all starts with a small thoughtful question:
“What’s one small thing we could do to make this a bit more fun?”
And that question changes things.
I’m starting to wonder if this applies far beyond our learning programmes.
That difficult conversation.
That overwhelming to-do list.
That task you keep avoiding.
What’s one small thing you could do to make today just a little more fun?

The Stationery Aisle Experiment

I read a lot. Its been a habit of my lifetime.
If anything, though, I probably read too fast.
Occasionally I use a well-worn red highlighter pencil to mark memorable passages. I had picked it up somewhere and I’ve been using it for ages.
But with all the thoughts recently at work about little experiments and micro habits, I decided to make a small behavioural change in early March.
It started, slightly randomly, in Tesco.
I was in the stationery aisle and decided, for no big reason, to buy a new set of highlighting pencils. And then a pencil case, because once you start, you may as well commit properly.
The idea was simple. Slow down. Pay attention. Make reading a bit more deliberate.
Now when I’m reading, I’m looking for something. Not in a forced, academic way. Just 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒊𝒄𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆. When a sentence stands out, I stop. That’s the key change. I actually stop.
I pick a colour, underline it, maybe read it again.
That pause is doing more work than I expected.
It breaks the habit of rushing through.
It makes me sit with the idea for a second instead of immediately moving on. It turns reading from something passive into something a bit more active, without making it feel like hard work.
I’ve noticed too, somehow it’s strangely more satisfying.
There’s something about having a pencil in hand, about marking a page, that makes the whole thing feel more intentional.
And when I flick back through, seeing those bits of colour scattered across the pages, it feels like a record of what actually landed. Not what I read, but what stayed.
It’s early, but I think it’s working.
I’m not reading less. I’m just reading with a bit more awareness. A bit more care.
All from the idea of experimentation with behavioural change and a small decision in a Tesco aisle.
It turns out slowing down isn’t about reading less, it’s about 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒊𝒄𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆.
Where else could a small pause make a big difference for you?

The Work of Waiting

Two years ago, this weekend, I was in Leidschendam in the Netherlands.
It was late on Sunday evening, the clock was edging towards midnight, as I watched the final moments of General Conference.
And then it came.
President Russell M. Nelson announced that a temple of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints would be built in Edinburgh, Scotland.
Exciting?… That doesn’t quite capture it at all!
Within seconds, my phone lit up. Messages poured in from friends all over the world…😊
It was one of those moments I’ll never forget.
And now… two years have passed.
And we’re still waiting. Waiting. Waiting. Waiting.
No site announced (yet) and no visible progress (at least to me).
Just… 𝒘𝒂𝒊𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈.
In the scriptures, the word wait means to hope, to anticipate, and to trust.
But recently I’ve found myself wondering… what am I doing with the waiting?
Because the truth is, so much of life – and discipleship – is lived in that space.
Not in the announcement.
Not in the completion.
But in the quiet, in-between.
The preparation space.
The Lord has always worked this way.
“Be still and know that I am God.” (Psalm 46:10)
Stillness is not inactivity.
Waiting is not wasted.
It can be a season of becoming and exercising faith in the Lord’s timing.
A time to prepare hearts, homes, and habits.
A time to deepen faith, not just anticipate blessings.
I have learned that through the gospel of Jesus Christ, we learn that God’s blessings come according to His divine timetable, not ours.
So, for now, we wait and we 𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒆.
Perhaps the question is not: When will the temple come?
But rather: Who am I becoming while I wait?
And maybe even… Will I be ready when it does?

Slenteren: The Case for Moseying

Yesterday, Monic and I found ourselves doing what many couples do at IKEA from time to time….
Walking. Wandering. Looping backwards and forwards. Sitting on chairs we don’t really need.
But somewhere between the kitchens, the cushions and the exit, Monic used a Dutch word I hadn’t heard before:
𝐒𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧.
Not rushing.
Not heading anywhere in particular.
Just… moving slowly, together (and losing each other occasionally too!)
We paused.
“What’s the English word for that?” she asked.
We played with a few.
Ambling.
Strolling.
Sauntering.
Meandering.
Moseying.
Each one close… but not quite complete.
And as we continued our two-hour “journey” around IKEA, it struck me – we weren’t just looking at furniture…
We were definitely 𝒔𝒍𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈! 👫
Unhurried.
Unpressured.
Unstructured… in the best possible way.
Reflecting this morning I thought about a wee life lesson.
In a world that rewards speed, output, and efficiency, there is something quietly powerful about moseying.
Because when we slow down:
• We notice more
• We think more clearly
• We connect more deeply
• We feel more
Life has taught me that not everything valuable comes from moving fast.
I’ve found that oftentimes the best conversations and the clearest thoughts, come when we simply… slenteren through them.
Where in your life could you afford to mosey a little more today?

A Better Beginning

Since I was 12 years old and my morning paper round, I’ve been up early, usually around 04.45.
It’s been a lifelong habit.
Over the years however, I’ve noticed something creeping into my morning study routines.
So, on the 1st of March, I began a simple experiment.
It was nothing hugely dramatic and it certainly wasn’t some big life overhaul.
It was simply just one small act of self-discipline: I stopped picking up my phone first thing in the morning.
For some years, it had been automatic.
Wake up, walk through to the living room and pick up my phone.
Result – good intentions to aid my studies, but inevitably there were distractions – messages, emails, news and…noise! 🤨
For the month of March – I decided to wait…
Just one hour.
Instead, I gave that first hour to quiet.
To my personal study, prayer, meditation, to thought.
To an unhurried, more disciplined slower start.
And the difference has been very noticeable.
My mornings feel calmer.
My mind feels clearer.
I’m less reactive, more intentional.
It’s as if I’ve taken back control of the tone of my day, rather than outsourcing it to whatever happens to be trending overnight.
Interestingly, I’ve also been reading The Anxious Generation, which reinforces just how much our devices – especially first thing – shape our emotional baseline in ways we often underestimate.
This isn’t about rejecting technology, or pretending the world isn’t happening.
It’s about sequence.
What we give our attention to first seems to matter more than we think.
For me, one simple boundary – no phone for the first hour – has become a quiet anchor and provides a better beginning to the day.
If you were to experiment…
What might your first hour look like – without your phone?