This morning, I woke up in a little beach cottage in Port Aransas. A storm had rolled in overnight, wrapping the coastline in shades of gray and silver. Rain tapped steadily against the porch roof while the wind pushed through the banana leaves that surrounded the cottage. Most people come to the coast hoping for sunshine and blue skies, yet as I sat on the porch with a cup of coffee and my laptop, I couldn’t help but think how perfect the weather actually was.
Because today isn’t a vacation day.
Today is a CEO day.
Craig is somewhere offshore deep-sea fishing, and for the first time in what feels like forever, I have eight uninterrupted hours with nothing demanding my attention. There are no house projects waiting for me, no appointments on the calendar, no client calls, no errands, and no immediate fires to put out. For a woman who has spent years juggling home renovations, publishing books, coaching clients, raising children, loving grandchildren, planning adventures, building a business, and trying to remain healthy in body, mind, and spirit while doing all of the above, that kind of space feels almost luxurious.
The older I get, the more I realize that space may be one of the most valuable resources we possess.
Over the last few years, life has been wonderfully full. Yet fullness comes with its own challenges. Every meaningful area of life demands attention. There are businesses to build, relationships to nurture, finances to manage, health goals to pursue, creative projects to complete, homes to maintain, and dreams that continue asking for more from us long after the initial excitement fades. Craig and I often joke about the number of plates we keep spinning at any given moment, but beneath the humor is a truth most people understand all too well. Life rarely presents itself in neat, manageable categories. More often, it feels like a constant negotiation between competing priorities.
For a long time, I assumed highly successful people had simply learned how to keep every plate spinning perfectly. Experience has taught me otherwise. What separates them isn’t flawless balance. It’s the ability to determine which plates matter most in a particular season and to give those priorities the attention they deserve without becoming distracted by everything else competing for their focus.
That realization came into sharper focus during our drive down here. Over the course of two days, Craig and I listened to hours of conversations from people like Andy Frisella, Ed Mylett, Lewis Howes, and others who spend their lives studying growth, leadership, faith, performance, and success. Although each approaches the topic differently, they all seemed to arrive at the same conclusion.
Growth rarely occurs inside comfort.
The life we say we want is almost never built in the leftover spaces.
Most people aren’t lacking talent. They aren’t lacking ideas. They aren’t even lacking desire. What they are often lacking is protected time. Time to think. Time to create. Time to evaluate where they’re headed and whether their daily actions align with the future they’re hoping to build.
Instead, many of us spend our days reacting. We answer emails, solve problems, handle emergencies, return phone calls, manage schedules, and respond to whatever feels most urgent in the moment. Before long, entire weeks disappear. Then months. Then years. One day we wake up and realize we’ve become exceptionally good at maintaining life while making very little progress in intentionally creating it.
That’s where CEO days become so valuable.
Contrary to what the name might suggest, a CEO day isn’t really about productivity. It’s about ownership. It’s the deliberate decision to step out of the weeds long enough to climb above the day-to-day noise and remember where you’re actually trying to go. It creates room for strategic thinking in a world that constantly rewards reactionary behavior.
The challenge, of course, is that comfort is incredibly persuasive. It disguises itself as practicality. It presents itself as responsibility. It whispers convincing reasons why now isn’t the right time to pursue the project, write the book, launch the business, prioritize health, deepen faith, or finally take action on the dream that has been sitting quietly in the background for years.
To be fair, most of those reasons sound legitimate.
The kids need us.
The bills are real.
The obligations matter.
Life is busy.
Yet there is a significant difference between having responsibilities and surrendering our future to them.
One of the most difficult lessons I’ve learned is that dreams rarely disappear all at once. They fade gradually. A postponed project becomes another postponed project. One delayed decision turns into several. A goal that once felt urgent slowly becomes something we talk about instead of something we pursue. Eventually, many people stop mentioning the dream altogether because it becomes less painful than admitting they’ve stopped moving toward it.
That is why intentional space matters.
Not because every CEO day produces a breakthrough.
Not because every focused work session changes your life.
Not because a single afternoon suddenly solves every problem.
Space matters because every time we intentionally invest in our future, we cast a vote for the person we’re becoming.
As I sit here writing this, the rain continues falling. The wind still moves through the palms. Somewhere beyond the cottages and dunes, the ocean waits beneath a sky heavy with clouds. It occurs to me that storms make a fitting backdrop for this lesson. Storms do not prevent progress; they reveal commitment. Pursuing a dream when conditions are ideal requires very little character. Continuing when life is full, distractions are plentiful, and the excuses are entirely understandable is where real growth begins.
Perhaps that’s why I value days like this so much.
Not because they are productive.
Not because they are relaxing.
Not because they are efficient.
But because they remind me that the life I want will not build itself.
Neither will yours.
Sometimes the most important thing we can do is step away from the noise, sit down with a cup of coffee, and spend a few uninterrupted hours becoming the person our future requires.
The plates will still be there tomorrow.
The question is whether the dream will be.
→ If someone handed you eight uninterrupted hours tomorrow with zero obligations, what would you finally work on?
The book?
The business?
Your health?
Your faith?
A dream you’ve been putting off for years?
Drop it in the comments.
And if this resonated, share it. So many people don’t need more motivation. They need permission to stop reacting to life long enough to intentionally create it.
As always loving and praying for you and our world,
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This post was previously published on medium.com.
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Photo credit: Rene’ Schooler-Wiseman(Author)
