The Snow Day Lesson: What Joy and Grief Teach Us About Leadership

✨ This day reminded me that life doesn’t ask us to choose between joy and grief—it asks us to show up fully, feel deeply, and allow love to fill every corner of our hearts. When we do, even the smallest snow day can become a profound lesson in hope.

This mirrors John Maxwell’s principle that “Leadership is influence, nothing more, nothing less.”
True leaders don’t influence by presenting a polished, untouchable version of themselves. They influence by showing up authentically—welcoming both challenges and joys, modeling resilience, and creating space for others to feel deeply and lead with their hearts.

Because leadership isn’t defined by the circumstances we face. It’s defined by our willingness to be present and guide others toward meaning.

The Snow Day Story

When I woke up that morning, the world was still. A soft layer of snow covered everything—the kind that quiets the world and somehow makes the house feel warmer.

I brewed a cup of coffee, opened my Bible for a few minutes of stillness, and then my phone buzzed.

My daughter:
“Snow day? All of us?”

No schedule. No planning. Just an unexpected invitation to choose joy.

Within the hour, we were in the car. The boys had outgrown last year’s snow gear, so we made a couple of quick stops to gather everything they’d need for a snowy adventure.

When we arrived at Ryan and Brianna’s house, the driveway was full. Morgan, Josiah, and Jensen had just pulled in—carrying a pot of taco soup for the whole family. The boys bounced with excitement as they tugged on their new snow suits. Rhett lit up when he saw the Paw Patrol gloves Morgan picked especially for him.

The WHOA Snowman

Outside, we attempted to build a snowman. The snow refused to pack, so we improvised with snowballs, sledding, and snow angels—though keeping Rhett still long enough to make one was nearly impossible.

Thirty minutes later, cold and rosy-cheeked, we rushed inside for hot cocoa, marshmallows, and laughter.

Later, the kids went back out for round two. Jeremy and I stayed inside with baby Beau, watching from the window as the “kids”—big and little—played. Using his tractor, Ryan rolled a giant snowman. When Rhett spotted it, he froze, eyes wide.

“WHOA snowman!”

Dinner followed. Taco soup. Family crowded around the table. Warmth. Ease. One of those days that just feels right.

Quiet Reflection

As I replay the moments, I feel the familiar ache behind my ribs—the kind only grief can carve.

Because even on perfect days—maybe especially on perfect days—I miss the people who aren’t here.

This is our first Christmas with Dad in heaven, reunited with Mom and my brother Brandon. Parkinson’s and dementia took pieces of him before his last breath, but this year it feels more final. More real.

I know I’ll see him again. That brings peace.
But I still miss his quiet Christmas smile.
His presence.
His hand in mine.

And yet—today happened.

A snowy morning.
A spontaneous family adventure.
A WHOA snowman.
A house overflowing with warmth, soup, and laughter.

Joy big enough to sit right beside the grief.

What This Season Is Teaching Me

Today reminded me that grief and joy do not compete; they coexist.
They coexist because they both come from the same place: love.

Grief whispers, “I wish they were here.”
Joy whispers, “Look at what’s here now.”

Grief honors the past.
Joy celebrates the present.
And when they meet, it isn’t contradiction—it’s the fullness of a life deeply lived.

For years, I feared joy would betray my grief.
But today reminded me:
Joy doesn’t erase grief, and grief doesn’t cancel joy.

They simply make room for each other.

A Lesson for You, Too

If you are carrying grief this season, here is what today taught me—and what I hope encourages you:

You don’t have to choose.
You don’t have to pretend.
You don’t have to wait for one feeling to fade before you allow the other.

Joy is not a betrayal of your grief.
And grief is not a barrier to joy.
Both are evidence of love—the love you had, the love you lost, and the love being created right now.

Leadership Lesson

Leaders are at their strongest when they lead from their full humanity.

People don’t need leaders who hide their emotions.
They need leaders who can stand in the tension—who can hold both grief and joy, vulnerability and strength, honesty and hope.

Because influence grows when you show up real.

Today’s snow day didn’t take away my grief.
But it gave the grief a softer place to rest.

And maybe that’s the gift of this season—for leaders and for all of us:
the grace to feel it all, and the courage to let both grief and joy belong.

Blessings to you, my friend.