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By John O'Leary. This was originally posted on JohnOLearyInspires.com. When John O'Leary was 9 years old, he suffered burns over 100% of his body and was expected to die. He is now an inspirational speaker and bestselling author, teaching more than 50,000 people around the world each year how to live inspired. John's first book, ON FIRE: The 7 Choices to Ignite a Radically Inspired Life was published March 15, 2016. John is a contributing writer for Huff Post and Parade.com. John is a proud husband and father of four and resides in St. Louis, MO. Order John’s book today anywhere books are sold.
Have you ever silenced an idea, worried it would be rejected or thought it wasn’t as good? Have you ever sidelined an opportunity to speak up because you were worried you wouldn’t measure up to others? Have you ever stifled an ‘I love you’ or an ‘I’m sorry’ because it was too late to matter to someone else? Often, we think our own words, ideas and actions won’t make a difference. We listen to the voice of fear whispering we’re just one person, we’re too inexperienced, too insignificant. We clam up when it’s our turn to share. We play small instead of taking a risk. We stay quiet when our words could change everything. And in doing so we fail to recognize that the contribution we see as insignificant is oftentimes life changing. Possibly even world changing. Let me explain. One of my favorite examples of this is that of a journal of personal, everyday thoughts captured by a mischievous, curious and perceptive little girl who never imagined anyone would read it. Only writing for two years of her life, she started tracking her experiences at age 13. She wrote about her parents, her sister, and friends. She wrote about fears, dreams, growing up, the power of good and the pale of evil. In one entry, she writes: “. . .I’m afraid that people who know me as I usually am will discover I have another side, a better and finer side. I’m afraid they’ll mock me, think I’m ridiculous and sentimental and not take me seriously. I’m used to not being taken seriously, but only the “light-hearted” Anne is used to it and can put up with it; the “deeper” Anne is too weak. If I force the good Anne into the spotlight for even fifteen minutes, she shuts up like a clam the moment she’s called upon to speak, and lets Anne number one do the talking. Before I realize it, she’s disappeared.” Anne Frank wrote this diary entry on Aug 1, 1944. She was 15. It was the last entry in her diary before her family’s hiding spot was raided and the Franks were shipped to Nazi concentration camps for the crime of being Jewish. Anne’s dad, Otto Frank, returned to the loft a year later a broken man. He had lost his wife and two daughters to unspeakable evil. He found in that attic, though, the unfiltered musings of his “deeper” Anne. Two years after her death, the journal of a little girl who feared being taken seriously was published. It ultimately sold more than 30 million copies, was translated into more than 70 languages and inspired adaptations on the screen and stage. It has earned a place among the most beloved books of all time. My friends, in a marketplace that often compares our value and worthiness to the most impossible of benchmarks, I hope you’re inspired by what readers of Anne’s diary are still discovering, 80 years later. That one voice matters. That the little things aren’t. That evil, in the end, doesn’t win. And that life — every life — is finite, precious, difficult, unfair and an absolute gift. Savoring your life, tracking your experiences, finding your voice and courageously using it won’t spare you heartache, rejection, or missteps. Instead, it ensures you’ll recognize that contrary to the opinions of some, that your life matters profoundly, the world is better because you are part of it and the best is yet to come. Today is your day. Live Inspired. Planning your next event? Get in touch with us at the Capitol City Speakers Bureau today to schedule your ideal speaker and make your event a success!
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By John O'Leary. This was originally posted on JohnOLearyInspires.com. When John O'Leary was 9 years old, he suffered burns over 100% of his body and was expected to die. He is now an inspirational speaker and bestselling author, teaching more than 50,000 people around the world each year how to live inspired. John's first book, ON FIRE: The 7 Choices to Ignite a Radically Inspired Life was published March 15, 2016. John is a contributing writer for Huff Post and Parade.com. John is a proud husband and father of four and resides in St. Louis, MO. Order John’s book today anywhere books are sold.
For many, the start of school ushers in a welcome shift from summer. It means reunion with friends, the return of routine and the familiar sights, sounds and smells of the school building. Yes, we may miss the freedom of summer, but it’s certainly a joy to be surrounded by others and in places we feel welcome, are encouraged to learn, and fit in with others. For many this is a wonderful transition. For many. But not for all. Some children, families and teachers are navigating a whole different range of emotions. Back-to-school for some brings back feelings of inadequacy, anxiety, fear, loneliness and dread. These are arduous emotions many of us remember experiencing. I wrote about struggling with these feelings in the book IN AWE, and those memories briefly return each time I send my own kids out the door this time of year. 35 years ago, I left school on a Friday afternoon in January as an athletic, popular, mischievous fourth-grade boy. 15 months later I returned to school on a March morning as a fifth grader radically different. After being burned, I was seated in a wheelchair, without my fingers, scarred over my entire body, scared about how others would perceive me, and unsure of what school would be like. Would I still have any friends? Would I be able to get from class to class? How would I get my books from my backpack to my locker? Ultimately, deep down, I wondered: Would I still belong? After an early morning physical therapy appointment, Mom drove me in our old Mercury station wagon. Leaning back against the red vinyl seat, I sat quietly next to her, terrified about the day ahead of me. I’d never been wild about going to school. Even before being burned, I had welcomed any excuse to miss school and stay home. Snow day? Check. Water-main break at school? Check. National or religious holiday? Check. Illness? Check. Potential illness? Check! On that March day, I took a deep breath. The school was around the corner. Could I come up with an excuse to postpone my return? It was too late. Mom made the turn, school was within sight, my fate of returning to school was sealed. And that’s when I heard the shouts and screams from up the road. Hundreds of students lined both sides of the streets. Mom slowed down the station wagon, and we crawled toward the school. As we did, kids on both sides of the road shouted welcomes, waved signs and smiled excitedly at me. They were trying to make the little boy who felt he didn’t belong recognize he did. As we rolled into the parking lot and Mom stopped the car, the cheering got louder. Mom got out, opened my door and helped me out. Being a cool fifth grader, I’m not sure I even looked up or waved to acknowledge the cheers. But I heard them. I was profoundly moved by them. I will never forget them. As our principal propped open the door into the school, I saw that my classmates lined both sides of the hallway. These were my friends I worried might not accept me back. Being rolled through the welcoming tunnel that formed, tears sprung from my eyes. I felt accepted, embraced, enveloped by love. Maybe, just maybe, everything was going to be okay. The welcome didn’t end with that carefully orchestrated morning. It lasted all year as I carefully navigated a new reality. My classmates didn’t look away. They didn’t avoid me. The other kids didn’t mock me; they engaged with me. They said hello, helped me with my books, fought over who got to push my wheelchair, and sat with me at lunch. I was burned, scarred, broken, and different. But I was back. And they let me know it was okay. That I was okay. Now here’s the thing: we all know some students will show up terrified this year because they have scars and hurts. Some will wear those scars externally, but most will be hidden. They’ll be concerned about acceptance, about friendships and about simply getting through the year. They’ll be dealing with stuff at home that they don’t talk about and no one even knows about. And it’s not just students who might struggle. New families and new teachers will arrive with anxiety wondering how they fit in, wrestling with self-doubt. That’s when you and I show up. We don’t need a formal parade to make our new students, families and teachers feel welcomed and loved. We just need a heart that remembers what it was like to struggle, what it was like when someone reached out and what it was like to experience that profound impact in our lives. We have a chance daily to make others feel welcomed and loved. We have an opportunity to remind them that they matter and that their life is a gift. It might, in fact, be the most important thing they learn this school year. Don’t miss the chance to teach it to them today. Today is your day. Live Inspired. Planning your next event? Get in touch with us at the Capitol City Speakers Bureau today to schedule your ideal speaker and make your event a success! By John O'Leary. This was originally posted on JohnOLearyInspires.com. When John O'Leary was 9 years old, he suffered burns over 100% of his body and was expected to die. He is now an inspirational speaker and bestselling author, teaching more than 50,000 people around the world each year how to live inspired. John's first book, ON FIRE: The 7 Choices to Ignite a Radically Inspired Life was published March 15, 2016. John is a contributing writer for Huff Post and Parade.com. John is a proud husband and father of four and resides in St. Louis, MO. Order John’s book today anywhere books are sold.
As schools prepare to open, it’s a great time to reflect on some highlights from summer before it fades. For me, the list includes morning walks with Beth, a slower pace at work, evening swims with Grace, playing cards with my boys and family vacations to Michigan and Florida. One highlight, however, started as a bad experience, became even worse and through a new friend’s generosity was transformed into a highlight. Let me explain. On our last night vacationing with my parents, five siblings and 21 cousins in Florida a bunch of the younger kids wanted to get ice cream together. Beth and I loaded them up into a golf cart, double buckled a few, triple buckled the rest and began the short commute. The night was cool, the stars were out, the kids were laughing, the week had been perfect and the glistening lights of the ice cream hut appeared in sight. Everything was perfect. Until… Until the bright red and blue lights of a police car pierced the darkness and sirens shrieked over the sounds of nature. My heart sank – as did my pride – as I pulled the golf cart off the road into a parking lot used as overflow for the ice cream stand. (A little golf cart pulled over with seven kids in it became quite the spectacle for an extensive line of customers waiting for their ice cream.) While they gawked at us, the kids behind me started asking questions. “Why did they pull you over, Dad?” “Are they going to take you to jail, Uncle John?” “Will this be your first time in jail? “Does this mean no ice cream?” The officer approached and explained that although our headlights were on, the taillights weren’t. She needed to run my license, but would get us out of here as quickly as she could. After getting my license back, I thanked the officer, double checked that the tail lights were on, pulled out of the spot and finished the commute. We parked, the kids popped out, skipped to the end of the line, and waited to place our order. It had been a bit of an ordeal, but the night was back on track. Until… Until Beth whispered to me, “You have cash, right? This place doesn’t take credit.” My heart sank as I realized neither of us had brought cash. We looked at these little kids, with the realization the place was closing shortly. There wasn’t time to run back for cash. The little ones were going to be disappointed. We started telling the kids what happened, prepared to step out of line and dejectedly return to the golf cart, defeated. Until… Until a gentleman a few people behind us heard our conversation, approached and shared that he’d like to buy our family ice cream. After repeatedly telling him that his offer was too generous, we had too many kids, it cost too much, he shared: “John, I actually read your book ON FIRE. I loved it. And I’d love to buy your family’s ice cream.” My friends, the suntan from that Florida sun has faded. The shells collected from the beach have been misplaced. The sand has finally been washed out of the clothes and the ice cream stains removed from the kids’ shirts. But none of us will forget our last night. We won’t forget the series of mistakes that almost made the night a total failure. And we won’t forget the unexpected generosity of a stranger who did far more than buy ice cream for a bunch of kids. What he really did was remind a line of onlookers that anyone can stand back, gawk and feel sorry for another. But the opportunity we all have is to not merely observe what’s wrong with someone else, but to care enough to step up, to walk over and to try to do something that makes a difference. We all know life is not perfect. We all know it’s hard. We all sometimes struggles with self-doubt and self-worth. Until. Until someone shows up. Reminding us that we are loved, our life matters and the best is yet to come. Take the opportunity today to be that person for someone else. Today is your day. Live Inspired. Planning your next event? Get in touch with us at the Capitol City Speakers Bureau today to schedule your ideal speaker and make your event a success! By John O'Leary. This was originally posted on JohnOLearyInspires.com. When John O'Leary was 9 years old, he suffered burns over 100% of his body and was expected to die. He is now an inspirational speaker and bestselling author, teaching more than 50,000 people around the world each year how to live inspired. John's first book, ON FIRE: The 7 Choices to Ignite a Radically Inspired Life was published March 15, 2016. John is a contributing writer for Huff Post and Parade.com. John is a proud husband and father of four and resides in St. Louis, MO. Order John’s book today anywhere books are sold.
Several years ago, I was getting ready for work when my son, Jack, walked into the bathroom as I was shaving. As a five-year-old boy, he stood next to me for a while pretending he, too, was getting rid of the “stubble” on his cheeks. But then he stopped pretending and began gently touching the scars that cover my torso. These are the deep red scars, with ridges and lumps that traverse my stomach. These are the scars that even today I often avoid looking at because they’re just too painful. These are the scars that remind me of all I went through and would rather forget. But on this day Jack traced with his little finger the scars that are evidence of all I’ve gone through in my life. And he said: “Daddy?” “Yeah, bud?” There was a long pause as he continued tracing his finger along the scars and slowly said, “Your tummy is red… it’s bumpy… and it’s ridgy…” Little Jack stopped his sentence, but kept tracing the scars. During that pause, I prepared to let him know that Dad might be different, but that it was okay. That I was burned as a kid, but it was fine. I readied to explain away what I imagined to be his fear and anxiety. Before I assuaged his alarm, Jack added: “And Daddy, I love it! I just love your red, bumpy, ridgy tummy!” Yeah, I wasn’t expecting that. Jack somehow saw beauty, hope, and even joy in those scars. He saw what made me different, as something that didn’t negatively define me. He saw something that could easily be perceived as ugly, as something that set me apart and somehow made me even more lovable. So, my friends, when you look at your life, what do see? When you read the headlines, what leaps off at you? While you visit with family, or work with colleagues or commute through life, what do you see? It turns out what we choose to see matters. If we look for negativity, divisiveness, ugliness and evidence of mean-spiritedness, we’ll find it everywhere. Conversely, when we seek opportunity, unity, beauty and evidence of people doing good, we find it everywhere. What we seek, we find. Choose today to be honest enough to identify brokenness within your life, but courageous enough to make it better. Choose to see intensifying wrinkles and a growing waistline not merely as evidence of advancing age, but as indication of greater wisdom and further validation of the miracle of your life. Choose to embrace the disappointments and setbacks as opportunities to learn important lessons, a chance to turn a page and the impetus to begin writing a new, even more beautiful chapter in your life. Choosing to see life like this doesn’t make challenges fade. It just ensures the next time you glance into a mirror, struggle in a relationship or feel discouraged by life you can honestly proclaim, “It may be red, it may be bumpy, it may be ridgy, it may be far from perfect…but I love it.” And that kind of perspective not only changes what you see, but also what happens next in life. This is your day. Live Inspired. Planning your next event? Get in touch with us at the Capitol City Speakers Bureau today to schedule your ideal speaker and make your event a success! By John O'Leary. This was originally posted on JohnOLearyInspires.com. When John O'Leary was 9 years old, he suffered burns over 100% of his body and was expected to die. He is now an inspirational speaker and bestselling author, teaching more than 50,000 people around the world each year how to live inspired. John's first book, ON FIRE: The 7 Choices to Ignite a Radically Inspired Life was published March 15, 2016. John is a contributing writer for Huff Post and Parade.com. John is a proud husband and father of four and resides in St. Louis, MO. Order John’s book today anywhere books are sold.
Recently, I’ve had the honor of speaking to healthcare leaders across different disciplines, employed by different hospital systems, located in different geographic regions and serving very different populations. Regardless their size, geography, or patient population served, though, I’ve reminded these leaders of the profound impact in seemingly small acts of kindness. From the welcome desk to the C-suite, they possess the power to make mighty, positive and lasting effect on the lives of those in need. As evidence of this truth, let me share a sweet story from my book IN AWE about a young man, doing an ordinary job, who aided mightily in my recovery. Every day I spent in the hospital was sectioned off into little pockets of torture. There were the brutal bandage changes, speech therapy and occupational therapy. And then the most painful part of the process, an hour of physical therapy. For those of you who have had to recover from a painful injury, you know just how excruciating physical therapy can be. In my case, the extent of my injuries demanded the rehabilitation of every joint in my body. It was a critically important component of my healing, and led me to be able to return to life fully. Enduring it, however, was agony. I began the sessions in my wheelchair, then moved to yellow therapy mats on the floor, and concluded each session in a broom closet far away from other patients. The therapists took me there so that no one could hear my screams. The sessions continued for more than a year after I was released from the hospital. My parents or a family friend would drive me to the hospital, drop me off at the physical therapy wing, and pick me up an hour later. Besides knowing that my torturers would eventually tire and move on to the next victim (I mean, patient!), there was something else I looked forward to that got me through those difficult sessions: seeing my friend Scott. Scott worked at the valet stand. When he saw this nine-year-old kid wrapped with bandages, eyes reddened from the physical therapy session he’d just endured, Velcro-strapped into a wheelchair, waiting for a ride home, he must have recognized that this kid needed some extra attention. Although Scott was incredibly old (a nineteen-year-old is ancient in the eyes of a nine-year-old), he would take time away from his job to keep me company. He would pull a chair alongside my wheelchair, look out at the driveway filled with emergency vehicles and we’d pretend all those ambulances were part of our army and that we were planning an ambush. Scott was my sergeant, and I was his lieutenant. He took orders from me. For a little boy who had a team of doctors, nurses, and therapists always telling him what to do, it was a welcome reversal. When my ride finally arrived, Scott would do one more thing that always made my day: He’d let me talk on his walkie-talkie. He’d hold it in front of me, push the talk button, and say, “Okay, we’re live. Go for it!” With great enthusiasm I’d say, “Johnny to base. Johnny to base. Send reinforcements. Enemy approaching. Over and out.” We’d laugh uncontrollably as some angry security officer would hop on and yell: “Kid, get off the radio!” With tears no longer in my eyes and a big, beaming smile on my face, I would be wheeled by Scott toward my parents’ car and he would help me in and tell me he looked forward to seeing me the next day. It doesn’t seem like that big of a deal when I look back on it. They were, after all, just small moments of kindness. Yet to a struggling child, they made a huge difference. Scott was a college student, trying to earn some spending money for the weekends. But even at that age, he knew that work wasn’t just about putting in the time and picking up a paycheck. He knew that any job, when performed with excellence, could become something greater. He knew there were no insignificant people, that small acts mattered and little things made a big difference. I believe every job we do matters, and all work is sacred. But too often, we can get caught up in busywork and neglect the essential life-giving work begging to be attended to. Sometimes we must turn away from the demands and instead focus on what truly makes a difference. The kind of work that makes us immensely proud. My friends, regardless of our position in life – from an executive director to a valet – it turns out we are created to make a difference. As Scott reminds us: Small acts, motivated by love, can indeed change the world of those we encounter. This is your day. Live Inspired. Planning your next event? Get in touch with us at the Capitol City Speakers Bureau today to schedule your ideal speaker and make your event a success! By John O'Leary. This was originally posted on JohnOLearyInspires.com. When John O'Leary was 9 years old, he suffered burns over 100% of his body and was expected to die. He is now an inspirational speaker and bestselling author, teaching more than 50,000 people around the world each year how to live inspired. John's first book, ON FIRE: The 7 Choices to Ignite a Radically Inspired Life was published March 15, 2016. John is a contributing writer for Huff Post and Parade.com. John is a proud husband and father of four and resides in St. Louis, MO. Order John’s book today anywhere books are sold.
As the result of powerful Spring thunderstorms, sirens sounded in our hotel recently encouraging us to seek shelter in the basement. While waiting for the storm to pass, the all-clear to be given, and the right to return to our rooms to be granted, I was reminded of the powerful, unmistakable sounds many report as a tornado approaches and after it departs. Let me explain. Many survivors of tornadoes share that as the storm approaches there is the piercing sound of a freight train. And that after the massive, unsettling locomotive sound fades, it is followed by an eerie momentary silence, which is quickly broken by the powerful sound of chainsaws. Clearing debris from houses, removing branches from roadways, seeking to rebuild by first removing the damage. It is the sound of a community that has been badly damaged and is already beginning to rebuild. Though not a tornado, enduring a painful storm, its devastating effect, and the subsequent beautiful sound signaling the beginning of healing has been witnessed by our family, too. Years ago, on a gorgeous Sunday afternoon, all the neighborhood kids played together in a backyard. From our deck, I watched the regular chaos of children playing games and screaming in delight. Suddenly the chorus of joy gave way to absolute silence. I looked up and saw an older boy sprinting away from the kids and into his house. Seconds later his father came dashing out of the house. Together they raced through the gate, into another yard, followed rapidly by other adults – all running. A few doors away lived a wonderful young man with a beautiful wife and new baby. They had just moved into the house. He’d been on an extension ladder cutting branches when one snapped, smacking him in the chest and knocking him 20-feet to the ground. He lay at the base of this tree disoriented, in pain and unable to move his legs. Police, fire, and EMS arrived within moments. They stabilized him, carted him to the ambulance, and transported him to the nearest trauma center, his and his loved one’s lives forever changed. The storm had hit. The rest of us stood around stunned by this crushing event. We stared blankly at the ladder still perched against the tree, the massive branch hanging menacingly above, and the yellow police tape cordoning off the site. How could this happen? Why would it happen? And what should we do next? Then came the sound, the first tangible evidence, of healing. A few men went back to their houses and returned with chainsaws. They gathered up and disposed of the police tape. They repositioned the ladder, climbed to the top, worked together and cut down the huge branch. They sliced it into firewood, stacking it neatly against the house. They removed the ladder, returned it to the garage, and raked the yard of all debris. These men transformed a site of terrible tragedy into a monument of love. No, it would not change the devastating effects of the day. It would not bring movement back into a young man’s legs or alter the agonizingly difficult journey ahead for this family. But it was a small, important step in healing. Anyone who has endured tragedy, though, knows there are no small steps in recovery. Each step, even the smallest one, along the journey is critical as we journey forward. As isolating as it may feel and as slow as the pace may seem sometimes, to be reminded in very visceral ways that you are not alone, that others do care, and that better days remain ahead can change lives. My friends, as we face storms in life, we have a choice. We can choose anger, yell about it, and remain negative about what happened and all we’ve lost. Or we can choose to accept it, make the best of it, grow from it and realize that in spite of those unwanted changes that the best of life remains in front of us. So, start your chainsaw. The world needs to hear that although storms may destroy the expectations we held yesterday, they haven’t destroyed the beautiful possibility for the what can still occur tomorrow. This is your day. Live Inspired. Planning your next event? Get in touch with us at the Capitol City Speakers Bureau today to schedule your ideal speaker and make your event a success! By John O'Leary. This was originally posted on JohnOLearyInspires.com. When John O'Leary was 9 years old, he suffered burns over 100% of his body and was expected to die. He is now an inspirational speaker and bestselling author, teaching more than 50,000 people around the world each year how to live inspired. John's first book, ON FIRE: The 7 Choices to Ignite a Radically Inspired Life was published March 15, 2016. John is a contributing writer for Huff Post and Parade.com. John is a proud husband and father of four and resides in St. Louis, MO. Order John’s book today anywhere books are sold.
What would you do if you knew today was your last? As a nine-year-old, this wasn’t just a hypothetical question to consider, but a reality I faced daily. After being burned on 100% of my body in a gasoline explosion, I was given less than a 1% chance to survive the first night. Although I survived that first night and the five months in hospital that followed, the specter of death remained ever-present during that time. Never was it more real, though, than the nights before surgeries. A severely burned patient’s skin will never grow back on its own. So doctors are charged with taking skin from one part of the body, called a donor site, and covering the rest of the body with it. In my case, this was extremely difficult, dangerous and time consuming because the only part of my body suitable was my scalp. This meant that more than a dozen times skin was taken from my scalp and transplanted to cover, piece by piece, the rest of my body. Because of my weakened condition, the additional stress of surgery and blood loss presented the very real prospect that the next surgery could be my last. With this in mind, my parents would make the evening before surgeries extremely special. They’d bring me a gift, my siblings would visit, we’d eat pizza, down milkshakes, and stay up late. We’d do our very best to ignore the painful reality before us. The focus was on me. That’s how I spent my nights when I thought they might be my last. How would you want to spend yours? Would you have a party for hundreds? Toasts offered, music playing, slideshow running? Would you have an intimate gathering of family? Enjoy a favorite meal with loved ones and share the remarkable, funny and sacred stories that only your family knows, that only your family gets? Or would you be even more reflective? Maybe a long walk in nature. Praying, reflecting, waiting on that first hint of dawn. Waiting in anticipation, fear, faith, hope? My friends, it’s unlikely we’ll ever know the exact date of our death. We can imagine where we might go, what we might do, how we might feel, and what we might say. But for us, it’s just a guess, simply imagination. But last Thursday I was reminded how Jesus chose to spend his last night when he knew it was the end. He knew he’d been betrayed. He knew perfectly the unimaginable rejection, loneliness, struggle and suffering certain to come. Knowing that the end was near, that the very reason for his birth was about to be perfectly achieved, he brought together his closest friends. He sat with them. He prayed with them. He broke bread with them. He shared drink with them. He talked with them. In other words, he did the normal stuff of life with them. And then the unexpected happened. He got up from the table. He took a bowl of water, wrapped a towel around his waist, and bent down before them. One by one, their Rabbi, their Teacher washed their feet. His focus, until the end, was always on others, always on serving, always revealing love in action. My friends, as a child I enjoyed big parties before every surgery. It was all about me. Yet Jesus uses one of the final moments of his life, not to mask anxiety or receive gifts, but to harness the significance of the moment by reminding his friends one more time what real victory, true celebration, and an abundant life looks like. His example was less about how to spend the last day of our lives, and much more a spectacular reminder on how we are called to live each and every day leading up to it. This is your day. Live Inspired. Planning your next event? Get in touch with us at the Capitol City Speakers Bureau today to schedule your ideal speaker and make your event a success! By John O'Leary. This was originally posted on JohnOLearyInspires.com. When John O'Leary was 9 years old, he suffered burns over 100% of his body and was expected to die. He is now an inspirational speaker and bestselling author, teaching more than 50,000 people around the world each year how to live inspired. John's first book, ON FIRE: The 7 Choices to Ignite a Radically Inspired Life was published March 15, 2016. John is a contributing writer for Huff Post and Parade.com. John is a proud husband and father of four and resides in St. Louis, MO. Order John’s book today anywhere books are sold
“John, everything is going to work out fine.” With these words, my sweet dad was trying to encourage me and cheer me up. It wasn’t working, though. After being burned as a little boy and spending five months in a hospital, I was finally about to go home. From my wheelchair, still connected to a heart monitor, with a feeding tube snaking up through my nose, body wrapped in bandages covering either open sores or fresh scars, it sure didn’t feel like everything would work out fine. Unbelievingly, I looked back at my dad and responded: That’s easy for you to say. You’ve got Mom, a family, a job, and a home. Dad, I may never have those things. And for many years, some of them difficult, I was proven right. Although passionate, precocious, and courageous as a little guy, there were many moments in my life dominated by fear. I was anxious about how people would respond to my injuries, saddened by all I could not do, and angry at the potential life robbed from me. And I was definitely afraid, perhaps even certain, I’d never have anyone to share that life with anyway. During those years, I was completely preoccupied with what I wanted for my life, what I needed from a relationship, what someone else could do for me. My focus was entirely on me. This emphasis on self, by the way, is one strongly encouraged by the society in which we live today. We’re challenged by self-help gurus to focus singularly on our personal lives and our individual versions of happiness. Our celebrities share the freedom they’ve found in letting go of expectations from others and choosing themselves first. Celebrations of self-care are everywhere on social media. Many spiritual teachers and new age preachers share how to find personal peace and individual success. Paradoxically, it’s in letting go of our self-centered desires we find serenity. It’s in faithfully keeping our hearts open to serving others – even sometimes having them broken by those we love – that the meaning, joy and real peace we seek is gradually revealed. This realization began for me in my early 20s. After years of rejection, self-pity and self-doubt, I stopped trying to convince others I was lovable and just started loving others as they were. I let go of my fear of being alone, and embraced the gift of time by myself. I let go of operating from a place of self-centered fear and began leading and living from a place of unconditional love. No strings attached. No expectations. No agenda hidden or validation sought. In other words: I loved. On this Valentine’s Day, whether you are going on a hot date with your special someone, heading out with dear friends, or longingly waiting for the phone to ring, be reminded of the overwhelming demands true love requires and the profound blessing it delivers in return. Ultimately, the way we discover the love we seek is to let go of our needs, remain absolutely vulnerable in the face of fear, say yes to serving others, allow our hearts to be broken repeatedly and strive diligently to make our lives about something far bigger than ourselves. This reality may not trend on social media, it may not sell Valentine’s Day cards, chocolates or lingerie, but it will ensure authentic peace for this day, the thrill of hope for tomorrow and a life of sincere significance. It turns out Dad was right. Everything is going to work out fine. Today and always, I want to remind you of that same truth in your life. This is your day. Live Inspired. Planning your next event? Get in touch with us at the Capitol City Speakers Bureau today to schedule your ideal speaker and make your event a success! By John O'Leary. This was originally posted on JohnOLearyInspires.com. When John O'Leary was 9 years old, he suffered burns over 100% of his body and was expected to die. He is now an inspirational speaker and bestselling author, teaching more than 50,000 people around the world each year how to live inspired. John's first book, ON FIRE: The 7 Choices to Ignite a Radically Inspired Life was published March 15, 2016. John is a contributing writer for Huff Post and Parade.com. John is a proud husband and father of four and resides in St. Louis, MO. Order John’s book today anywhere books are sold.
While many of us associate retirement with lazy mornings, afternoons on the golf course, and evenings playing bridge, a gentleman I met several years ago took a different path. Instead of slowing down upon his retirement, Pat Hyndman embarked on a second career and became an executive coach. Pat and I met when I spoke at a monthly gathering of business owners he coached. Several of his friends had prepared me that Pat’s health was failing. Almost a year of struggling with stage four cancer had taken its toll. Knowing this, I did not expect to encounter such vitality and passion from a man who was receiving regular chemo treatments and who on that day, was turning ninety-eight. Yes, ninety-stinking-eight! But when Pat saw me enter the room, he stopped speaking midsentence, put his pad of paper down, and said in a loud, welcoming voice, “Everyone, our guest John O’Leary has arrived from St. Louis. Let’s welcome him!” He walked over, looked me in the eyes with a big smile, shook my hand firmly, and thanked me for making the trip. During my three-hour session with the group, while every executive took notes and engaged in the presentation, no one was as dialed in as Pat. He soaked up every word and vigorously took notes. After the session, we celebrated Pat’s ninety-eighth birthday. As we sang “Happy Birthday,” he looked as joyful as a kid, wearing a playful smile and using his hands to spiritedly conduct our singing. After he blew out the candles on the cake, Pat went around the room and celebrated each person in attendance. One by one, he thanked all twenty-five business owners by name, complimented something he respected about them, and shared specifically why he was grateful they were a part of his life. And although I’d met him just four hours earlier, he included me in this celebration. Pat thanked me for waking up early, catching the flight from St. Louis, leaving behind my wife and kids, and joining the group that day. He made each person feel as if the entire party was for us, rather than him. At the end of the evening, as Pat was putting on his coat to go home for the night, I asked what fueled him each day. What allowed him to keep going to work with such energy and enthusiasm, keep fighting through chemo, keep showing up for life? “You know, John,” he said with a smile, “life is a gift. And I treasure each day I’m given. I’ve discovered that a person begins aging only when they stop learning and stop loving. “Plus,” he added, “I made a promise to my wife, Bonnie, seventy-three years ago to stay by her side. I intend to keep that promise.” He winked at me, gave me a hug, and then headed out the door, saying, “I better get home soon or she’ll think I’m running around on her!” Less than two months after that conversation, Pat went home for the final time. But not before keeping his promise to Bonnie, and being by her side when she passed away three weeks before him. For nearly a century, Pat Hyndman showed us how we could live our lives with childlike awe. He knew that life was a gift, that every person matters, and that each day was packed with limitless possibilities. My friends, today, let’s also seek to reveal these truths through how we live our lives. This is your day. Live Inspired. Planning your next event? Get in touch with us at the Capitol City Speakers Bureau today to schedule your ideal speaker and make your event a success! By John O'Leary. This was originally posted on JohnOLearyInspires.com. When John O'Leary was 9 years old, he suffered burns over 100% of his body and was expected to die. He is now an inspirational speaker and bestselling author, teaching more than 50,000 people around the world each year how to live inspired. John's first book, ON FIRE: The 7 Choices to Ignite a Radically Inspired Life was published March 15, 2016. John is a contributing writer for Huff Post and Parade.com. John is a proud husband and father of four and resides in St. Louis, MO. Order John’s book today anywhere books are sold.
Many people send out Christmas cards this time of year. These cards typically feature pictures of smiling kids, happy couples, cute dogs, new homes. Many cards include images of beautiful Christmas trees, Santa leaving gifts, Snoopy driving sleighs, or nativity scenes. But several years ago, it was a seemingly bland card, with a seemingly odd message, that most deeply moved me. On a plain blue card weren’t pictures, images, families or snowflakes, but four words: “Do Not Be Afraid.” Seemed like a strange message for the holiday season. Why lead with a message of fear around the holidays? Why not send pictures of puppy dogs and snow flakes and Santa and kids looking just perfect? Kind of a dark message, right?! Then I remembered the first words Mary heard from the angel: Do Not Be Afraid. And the first words heard by Joseph in a dream. Do Not Be Afraid. And the first words a bunch of shepherds heard while tending to their flocks. Do Not Be Afraid. Then I thought of the woman who had sent this card. She was recently widowed, struggling with intense grief, dealing with loneliness, facing uncertainty. And I understood the grand simplicity and profound truth of her card. My friends, we all carry so many concerns into this Christmas week. Some wrestle with the agony of a lost loved one and their first Christmas with an empty chair around the table. Others endure the weight of too many pulls on their time, too many places to be, too many things to get done. Some feel trapped in an unhealthy relationship; some ache to be in a relationship. We all carry insecurities and anxieties into this week and into the final days of 2021. And then we are reminded of a fundamental truth too frequently overlooked this time of year. Do not be afraid. It was a message delivered 2,000 years ago that transformed the lives of those who heard and heeded them. Perhaps there’s value in hearing and heeding them in our lives today. This is your day. Do not be afraid. And Live Inspired. Planning your next event? Get in touch with us at the Capitol City Speakers Bureau today to schedule your ideal speaker and make your event a success! |
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