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.

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.

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. 

You don't need to dominate a room to command it. Instead, the next time you step up to speak, remember to prepare so well that you can be present, connect so deeply that others feel seen, and share your passion so openly that it moves people to action. Do those things, and you won't just command a room—you'll change it.

We are all in a pressurized state right now. The weight of uncertainty is heavy and dizzying. But as one nonprofit leader reminded me recently, diamonds are formed under pressure. And just as a brilliant diamond can be formed under pressure, so too can our mission be clarified under intense conditions.

So, what if we made listening, not talking, our greatest act of leadership? When we choose to listen, we will also choose to quiet the noise. And that one simple act can begin to bridge divides, repair harm, and re-humanize the spaces we share.

We can choose to be lost in the work, or we can choose to find meaning right where we are—even in the chaos—and let that meaning guide us forward. So today, I’ll choose to get lost in something that matters. Something small, hopeful, forward-looking. And I hope you can too.

Disagreement will always be part of our work. It can also be good for the work, as long as there are equal amounts of disagreement, respect, and collaboration. If we can hold space for all three, we will not only get through the challenges but also build something lasting.

The opportunity before us is not to be superhuman, but to be that super kind of leader, manager, or peer who says through your actions: You belong here. And you don’t have to choose between being who you are and being who we need you to be.

Strategic planning doesn’t need to feel overwhelming. What it does need is readiness at the outset and commitment all the way through. Because the true measure of a plan isn’t how impressive it looks on paper—it’s how fully it comes alive in practice.