Planning For Your Absence.
This article is part of Finding the Words, a newsletter that delivers practical insights on the day’s issues.
This past Sunday, former U.S. Senator Ben Sasse sat down with Scott Pelley on 60 Minutes for one of the most powerful interviews I've seen in a long time. At 54, Sasse is living with terminal pancreatic cancer, a diagnosis that, as he put it, "forces me to tell the truth."
And truth-telling he did, about the current and long-standing challenges of our nation's political system and how today's national political dysfunction is, as he says, an "echo of larger problems."
While every word of his 13-minute interview is worth listening to for yourself, it's this line I want to lift up in this week's column:
"We're all always on the clock. Some of us have the benefit — it's a weird word — but the benefit of knowing our time is finite and defined, and it becomes an opportunity to talk about bigger stuff."
The "stuff", perhaps, that we aren't willing or ready to talk about when we think we have plenty of time left.
For instance, we know we should talk about what happens when we're gone, but few of us actually do. In fact, one-third of surveyed business owners in this 2024 Gallup poll admit they either don’t have a long-term plan or are unsure about what will happen to their business after they leave. And, according to the Exit Planning Institute, 68% of owners sought advice on business transitions, but 78% still lack a formal transition team.
Understandable, perhaps.
There's always something more pressing. A deadline, a board meeting, an emerging crisis. Succession planning can be put on the back burner for another day. It's something you'll "get to eventually."
But here's what I've learned, both as a founder and from years of advising other founders: the absence of a plan is never a good one.
Not too long ago, a peer said to me (likely thinking it was a compliment) that I had better not get sick or take time off, because there would be "no one to fill in for me." Of course, I understood the spirit of what she meant. But the more I thought about it, the more it unsettled me. Because when an organization starts to believe that any one person is irreplaceable, that belief becomes a barrier for the person at the top and for everyone around them.
The reality is that I've been thinking about leaving Mission Partners since the day I founded the company — and not because I want to leave. In fact, this is my life's work, and I can't imagine doing much else.
I've been thinking about leaving because I never wanted to build something that only I could run. I started this company hoping that someday, someone else would lead it — and quite frankly, lead it better than me.
But getting to that someday requires deliberate, ongoing preparation. It requires that I think about our company as a continuous teaching hospital. A place that distributes leadership and freely shares knowledge. A place that helps people develop into the roles they haven't held yet but hope to hold someday.
My hope in normalizing conversations about my eventual departure is that everyone feels part of our future — and wants to grow with us, even as I'll someday exit.
Because very rarely does life play out just the way we want it to. Very rarely do we get to choose our last day, though we’ll all have one.
So, if you're planning for a sabbatical, a job change, a retirement, an exit, or maybe even that scary "d" word, and you think you've got plenty of time to kick that planning down the road, I say, "Are you sure about that?"
So, let's better plan for it.
Start by being willing to do the work most of us avoid — clearly, courageously planning for our own absence and communicating that plan openly before it's needed — not only is that part of your legacy, but it's a really smart communication strategy. Yep, planning for our absence requires the same three things I come back to in all of my communications work: care, courage, and clarity.
Care. Succession planning done well is an act of service to your team, your Board, and the community you serve. Do it before you need it, and you'll be able to do it with the utmost care.
Courage. Naming who could step in for you, and taking the steps now to teach and train before it's too late requires confronting our own mortality, and helps us put our egos aside to boot.
Clarity. A succession plan that lives only in your head isn't a plan at all. Articulating your plan, or at very least your wishes, gives your team, your board, and your loved ones something to act on in your absence.
Most of us have the luxury of more time, but none of us have unlimited time. And the organizations we lead deserve to know that we've thought about what happens next.
So here's the question I want to leave you with this week:
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?
Bottom line: Planning ahead for your absence isn't dire. It's one of the most hopeful and generous things a leader can do.
This post is part of the Finding The Words column, a series published every Wednesday that delivers a dose of communication insights direct to your inbox. If you like what you read, we hope you’ll subscribe to ensure you receive this each week.
