Her questions are different by design because they invite an actual answer. Some might say Dianne’s approach is just a warmer way to start a conversation, but the longer I've gotten to know her, the more I've come to believe it's something bigger.

In times like these, with all their distraction and division, asking a real question and sticking around for the real answer is a radical act of communication.

In my office hangs a framed quote from the writer and activist Audre Lorde: "It's not our differences that divide us. It's our inability to recognize, accept, and celebrate those differences."
 
I put that quote on my wall years ago and read it daily. First spoken in September 1979 while Lorde was at a conference in New York, the words remain relevant and thought-provoking for me today.
 
Our differences don't divide us.
Or do they?

You don't build a conscious culture by announcing it. You build it by living it, in the small moments, until the standard becomes contagious. Win, lose, or draw, we can all choose to leave it better than we found it.

Truth is: it's never really about your five minutes. It's about whether your audience will want to keep listening after your five minutes are up. So, go in prepared to make the most of those few minutes, and your audience will soon stop watching their time, and they'll start asking for more of yours.

Which brings the question back to us, here today. The pressures we're navigating may not look like a heated 60 Minutes staff meeting. But the question beneath our tension is the same: when truth is tested, and independence is challenged, will you sit idly by, or will you tell people what they do not want to hear?

This moment is a call to action for all of us: leaders, communicators, educators, designers, and technologists alike. Leo's words are a reminder for us all, regardless of religious beliefs or background, that every choice we make about how we build, deploy, and talk about AI is a values statement. How we care for the margins — the people most likely to be left out, left behind, or actively harmed — is the truest test of whether we are using these tools wisely.

We don't just want to do well. We want to do it perfectly. And when we don't, we judge ourselves harshly for it. For many of us, the voices of judgment can be paralyzing, limiting us from taking risks or showing too much vulnerability. Perfectionism can limit our ability to be fully present.

In honor of this Mental Health Awareness Month, I invite you to join Mission Partners in taking one or more of these actions before the end of the month, for your own well-being and the well-being of the people and communities you love. We all have a part in contributing to mental well-being, and in further normalizing the idea that mental health is health.

Leaning into learning will always matter. But it's also OK to name just how far you'll go at each stage of the learning journey. Staying values-driven and being willing to ask, "what-are-we-willing-to-protect, and how far are we willing to go?” is critical to ensure your team doesn't end up in the danger zone, without a life raft to pull you back to safety.

If you had to step away from your role tomorrow — planned or unplanned — would your organization know what to do? Would the right people have the right information? And have you communicated your wishes clearly enough that your absence wouldn't create a crisis?
 

The work we do at Mission Partners has always been about human impact, and our approach to AI is no different. AI will not replace our thinking, and it need not replace yours. But when used and governed well — with minds open and values intact — we believe it can open new doors to innovative methods of learning, working, collaborating, and advancing mission-driven work in ethical, responsible, and more meaningful ways.

The leaders who navigate these moments most effectively are rarely the ones with the best words. They're the ones who did the thinking before the moment arrived — who know their mission filter, have a trusted team ready to convene, and have already decided, through the lens of their values, what they will and won't speak to publicly. That preparation is what transforms a reactive scramble into a grounded response. And it's what keeps silence from becoming its own kind of harm.

If you're in a season where progress feels slower than you'd hoped, I want to offer you this: there are many ways to measure growth, and even more ways to make an impact. Progress is not always obvious, and it is not always off the charts.
But it is always possible.

Nearly 20 years ago, early into owning my first company, a young employee on my team began struggling. We noticed it first through missed deadlines, followed by increased difficulty connecting with colleagues. There was a visible discomfort she wasn't ready to name, but others were picking up on.

If you're in a space between — where you are and where you want to be — I encourage you to reflect on the mountains you've already covered, and acknowledge your progress with generosity. Consider what you've learned since your last big challenge, and how much more equipped you are — even if it doesn't feel that way — for what's ahead.

I've been thinking a lot lately about what it takes to truly communicate well — not just to deliver a message, but to make it land. To communicate in a way that changes how someone thinks, feels, or acts, and deepens trust in the process. It's on my mind this week because of a challenge recently posed by a new executive — someone who stepped into a role where trust had been damaged and now needs to earn his team's trust while rebuilding what was previously lost.

There’s an illustrated children’s book I love called Quiet. It was written in 2018 by legendary author-illustrator Tomie DePaola, just a few years before his passing. DePaola wrote some of my favorite children’s books, but this one is decidedly different. Each time I pick it up, I’m reminded of how important its message is today—a message for children as much as for adults.

I was in my early 20s, navigating the first years of my professional career, when I remember thinking to myself: I have no idea what I’m doing here. The pace was fast. The expectations were high. I was being asked to do work I had never done before, surrounded by colleagues who seemed far more fluent in it than I was. And I wasn’t about to admit how lost I felt. 

At Mission Partners, we help organizations communicate what matters—and communicate it well. We write speeches and stories that capture attention, messages that move decision makers to act, and strategies that engage employees and volunteers to champion bold new ideas.

But none of those desired outcomes can happen without first asking a more fundamental question: How do we communicate in a way that all audiences—not just a select few—can understand and access the message?

When I wrote my first Finding the Words column on January 3, 2022, I didn’t know quite where it would take me, only that I needed a place to help make sense of our changing world.
 
Between the lines, though, something else started to unfold. I began to notice patterns and trends among the leaders who were inspiring my columns.