Yawn! When I read Michael Hyatt’s post on taking naps, I agreed. I knew from personal experience how beneficial a quick midday nap could be. But as I pondered how I might actually put it into practice, I hit a wall.

How could I keep moving forward with this idea in an educational role that requires me to be always alert and on-call throughout the school day? The tension between what I wanted to do and what I could do quickly threatened to become crippling frustration.

We live right next to an elementary school. If I’m going to an appointment, I’ll sometimes see the kids out at recess. Jumping, skipping, laughing—genuinely free.

Inevitably, the bell rings and the teachers start the impossible task of herding excitable, pint-sized people into the confines of a classroom. I can almost hear them from inside my house, “But I don’t wanna!” Such is life, I guess.

Recently, I met with a leader who was in the process of losing heart. I have seen the look in his eyes a hundred times before. (I had seen it in my own mirror on more than one occasion.)

My friend was under attack. He had just discovered that one of his board members was campaigning to unseat him. Worse, one of his children had just been diagnosed with a chronic disease. As a result of these issues, he was struggling with the typical symptoms of stress—insomnia, indigestion, and back pain.

About a week ago, Gail and I returned from a 30-day sabbatical. It was one of the best things we have ever done. We spent sixteen days in the mountains of Buena Vista, Colorado, several more days in Portland, and the rest of the time at our home outside of Nashville, Tennessee.

In April, I stepped down from my position as CEO of Thomas Nelson. (Though I am no longer in active management, I remain the Chairman of the Board.) I felt God calling me into a new chapter, and I wanted to take time to fully explore what it was going to look like.

Too often, we seem to accept the fact that our energy level is what it is. It’s beyond our control. Not true. Like most things in life, we have more control than we think.

Recently, just for the fun of it, I started making a list of all the things that energize me. I started out with a list of 10. Then it grew to 20, 30, then 40, and now, 44. But I am certain I have only just begun.

It’s winter here in the northern hemisphere. Longer nights. Shorter days. And more bad weather. This can wreak havoc on your emotional system and your overall energy-level. This is particularly important for us as leaders, since our energy is one of the most important things we bring to our teams.

I started experiencing mild depression the week before Christmas. For no apparent reason, I started feeling down. This typically began late in the afternoon and continued until bedtime. My energy level was low, and I had a difficult time focusing.

I am on vacation this week, so I am taking a break from blogging. I will resume posting on January 3. In the meantime, I hope you have a happy New Year!

During this week, I am doing a little reading, a little writing, and puttering around the house. How about you?

This month has been crazy busy. I have spoken publicly a dozen times already, and the month isn’t even over! In addition, I’ve had to finalize our strategic plan and attend two different board meetings. I’ve been on the road almost non-stop.

Who’s to blame? Me. I did it to myself.

I spent most of last week with Don Miller and a few friends at Bob and Maria Goff’s lodge in British Columbia. Don wrote about this magical place in A Million Miles in a Thousand Years. It was stunning. It gave me the opportunity to reboot my spirit.

For two-and-a-half days we ate, played, and shared our stories. We laughed and cried. We hiked up mountains, walked through waterfalls, and sat on the deck, listening to the surf and gazing at the stars.

There comes a point in every story when you are ready to quit. It could be a relationship, a project, or your job. Regardless, you’ve had enough, and you are ready to “throw in the towel.”

My friend, Donald Miller, discusses the temptation to quit in his book, A Million Miles in a Thousand Years. In a chapter called “The Thing About a Crossing,” he describes something called a “story arc” or trajectory. This is the dramatic outline that nearly every great story—including yours—follows.