I’ve always loved television shows that take “lost cause” houses and buildings and bring them back to life. Sometimes they’re centuries-old crumbling castles in Europe or forgotten cottages in random places, but recently I came across one set closer to home, in Detroit.
The design team behind it isn’t just restoring homes. They’re rebuilding hope, one block at a time. Many of the houses they rescued were already slated for demolition. Yet, where others saw ruin, they saw potential.
They moved in with flashlights, Coleman stoves, and blow-up mattresses to live amid the dust and debris until the work was done. That’s what belief looks like in action.
What struck me most wasn’t just their craftsmanship but the community that formed around them. Neighbors stopped by to cheer them on, thank them, and even bring them meals.
It reminded me that restoration, whether of a house, a street, or a life, is never just about fixing what’s broken. It’s about seeing what’s still possible. And we rarely do it alone.
That’s when the question changed for me.
Not just “Is this worth saving?”
But “How can I save this?”
That’s a powerful question to bring to almost anything, be it a house, a business, a marriage, a friendship, or something else. It’s where transformation begins by choosing to believe that there’s still something worth redeeming.
And that question stayed with me.
Because, as it turns out, it’s not only our homes or relationships that call for saving. Sometimes, it’s our work.
As a writer, my words have accumulated over the years like boxes in an attic. In fact, I’ve been writing a newsletter every week now since July of 2015. Over ten years of words just from my newsletter alone. Not everything is worth keeping, even newsletters. However, some hold insights or earned wisdom that deserve to be seen again.
So, I decided to start sorting through my old newsletters and posts, asking myself, “Is this worth saving?” The question quickly changed to this one: “Is this worth reading again?”
To my surprise, the answer was yes, more often than I expected.
So, like those designers in Detroit, I’m rolling up my sleeves to do a little restoration of my own. Dusting off what time has covered, strengthening what still stands, and bringing back a few stories that might still have something meaningful to offer.
One of those pieces was written in July of 2017 and serves as a reminder of how easily frustration can pull us away from our best selves, and how a simple shift in perspective can bring us back.
What do you mean, I’m not me?
(Originally published on July 18, 2017)
What frustrates you? Pushes your buttons? Makes you less than your best?
For me, it’s often something involving processes and rules that seem to create more trouble than they’re worth.
Having spent much of my professional life defining and reviewing systems, I have a natural sensitivity, maybe even an overreaction, when a process doesn’t work.
It happened one week when I tried to cancel an account. A simple task, I thought. Go online, fill out the form, done. Except that it wasn’t. The system didn’t recognize me. The information I entered didn’t match their records.
My first instinct? The system was wrong. Then, someone else must have made an error. But since I had set up the account myself, that “someone” could only be me. Still, I was certain I hadn’t made a mistake. Surely I knew who I was!
After several emails and phone calls, I finally reached the “special” customer service group – those brave souls who help customers on the verge of meltdown. Patiently, they walked me through the process again.
Then came the dreaded question:
“What are the last four digits of your Social Security number?”
I answered confidently, only to hear the same, dreaded reply:
“I’m sorry, ma’am, that doesn’t match what we have on file.”
By then, frustration had turned to indignant disbelief.
But the representative remained calm and kind. She reassured me that if I would simply resubmit the form, she was sure we could straighten it out. I resisted. I was not filling out another form.
But her professionalism and patience finally cut through the fog of my irritation.
And that’s when I saw it.
The problem wasn’t their system. It was me.
In that moment of humility, I asked a quieter question:
“Could the number on file be my company ID instead of my personal one?”
I then provided the other number.
Her voice lifted with relief as she confirmed it. Confetti might as well have fallen from the ceiling. We had a match!
When I’d opened the account years earlier under my company name, I’d used the business’s identification number instead of my personal one. The system had been protecting me all along. It wasn’t broken. I was giving it the wrong information.
That moment of self-awareness reminded me how quickly assumptions and judgments can blur our vision.
When we lead with the desire to understand rather than assigning blame, everyone wins.
When we focus on solving the problem, everyone wins.
And in the quiet of our mind, when we search for it, the answer will always show up if we’re willing to see it.
Closing thoughts
We live in a world that constantly urges us to move on, upgrade, and replace. Yet sometimes what needs our attention isn’t something new, it’s something familiar that’s waiting to be seen in a new way.
That’s what this season feels like to me. A time for discernment. To not just ask “What’s next?” but “What’s worth keeping?” Not everything will make the cut, but what does will be stronger for having been tested by time. One of my new favorite gems is the wisdom that what is made by time endures beyond it.
As I sort through years of writing, I’m realizing this isn’t just about saving words. It’s about honoring the ideas that still have something to give. The ones that remind us who we were when we wrote them and invite us to become more of who we are now.
I hope today’s offering from the archives resonates with you as it did with me when I rediscovered it.
I’ll be bringing more stories back restored, refreshed, and hopefully resonant for where we all find ourselves today. Because in times like these, when change feels both constant and confusing, it’s the things worth saving that can help us stay grounded in what matters most.
What about you? Are you also looking at something in your work or life and wondering if it’s time to rebuild, renew, or release? Sometimes it’s hard to see what’s worth saving when you’re standing too close to it.
That’s where I can help.
If you’re facing a decision or transition and want a fresh perspective on how to restore what still has value and re-imagine what’s next, just hit reply. Let’s explore what’s possible together.
Because everything we choose to save becomes part of the foundation for what’s coming next.
