Wisdom Is What You Give Away
I still think about that afternoon with Jeff.
At the time, I thought we were simply catching up.
We talked about work, family, mutual friends, and life in general. We laughed about old stories and reflected on how quickly the years seem to pass.
Then, almost in passing, Jeff said something that started this entire journey.
"I think I'm in the sage stage now."
I've replayed that sentence in my mind more times than I can count.
Not because I thought Jeff was announcing that he had arrived somewhere.
Quite the opposite.
There was a humility in the way he said it.
No pride.
No declaration.
Just a quiet awareness.
The older I get, the more I realize that wisdom usually speaks softly.
It doesn't need to convince anyone.
When I was younger, I imagined wisdom meant having the right answers.
Today I believe wisdom has much more to do with asking the right questions.
Questions like...
"Have you thought about it this way?"
"What matters most?"
"What happens after you're gone?"
Those are very different questions than the ones I asked thirty years ago.
When I was in the Builder stage, my questions sounded more like...
"How do I grow?"
"How do I provide?"
"How do I succeed?"
Those were appropriate questions for that season.
But every season has different questions.
The Sage understands something the Builder often doesn't.
Life isn't really about accumulation.
It's about contribution.
For years I've worked with families who have spent decades building successful farms, businesses, and investment portfolios.
Eventually every one of those conversations turns in the same direction.
Not toward money.
Toward legacy.
Who will continue this?
Will our family stay together?
Have we prepared our children?
What values will survive us?
It's interesting.
People rarely ask those questions in their thirties.
Almost everyone asks them eventually.
I've come to believe that legacy isn't something we leave behind.
It's something we live every day.
It's found in ordinary conversations.
It's found in keeping promises.
It's found in the way we encourage a young employee.
It's found in how we treat our spouse after forty years of marriage.
It's found in showing up when no one is watching.
Legacy is rarely built during life's biggest moments.
It's built during thousands of ordinary ones.
When I think about the people who shaped me most, I don't remember many speeches.
I remember examples.
My grandfather quietly building things with his hands.
My parents going to work every day without complaint.
Larry challenging my attitude because he cared enough to tell me the truth.
Jeff asking questions instead of giving lectures.
Each of them gave me something far more valuable than information.
They gave me perspective.
Now I find myself hoping to do the same for someone else.
Whether that's Ryan.
Someone on our team.
A young advisor.
A client.
Or perhaps someone I'll never meet who simply reads these pages someday.
If there's one thing I've learned, it's that wisdom doesn't belong to us.
It's borrowed.
Every lesson I carry today came from someone else first.
My responsibility isn't to protect it.
My responsibility is to pass it along.
There is another lesson I've learned that surprised me.
The older I've become, the less certain I've become about many things.
That may sound strange.
But I actually think it's healthy.
When we're young, confidence often comes from believing we have the answers.
As we grow older, confidence begins coming from something entirely different.
We become comfortable saying,
"I don't know."
Or...
"Let's figure it out together."
Humility and confidence are not opposites.
The wisest people I've known possess both.
They don't pretend to know everything.
They simply know what matters.
I've also realized that the Sage never really stops learning.
That surprised me.
I used to think wisdom meant reaching the end of learning.
Now I think wisdom means becoming a lifelong student.
Some of my greatest lessons over the past few years have come from watching younger people.
Ryan sees opportunities differently than I do.
Technology has changed the way he thinks.
The next generation asks different questions.
That's a gift.
If we stop listening because someone is younger than we are, we've stopped growing.
The Sage listens as much as he speaks.
Perhaps even more.
As I write these pages, I don't consider myself a sage.
I'm still learning.
I'm still building.
I'm still trying to become a better steward of everything that's been entrusted to me.
But I do find myself becoming more intentional.
More grateful.
More aware that time is precious.
More convinced that relationships matter far more than accomplishments.
If someone were to ask me today what success looks like, my answer would be much simpler than it once was.
Success is loving my family well.
Success is helping people make wise decisions.
Success is watching someone else discover confidence.
Success is keeping my integrity when no one is watching.
Success is leaving people better than I found them.
Everything else is temporary.
One day, someone else will sit in my office.
Someone else will lead meetings.
Someone else will welcome clients into The Barn.
Someone else will carry conversations that haven't even begun yet.
And that's exactly the way it should be.
None of this was ever mine.
I was simply blessed to care for it for a little while.
Maybe that's the final lesson.
We're not owners.
We're stewards.
Of our time.
Our families.
Our businesses.
Our friendships.
Our faith.
Even our wisdom.
Everything entrusted to us is eventually meant to be entrusted to someone else.
I think that's what Jeff understood that afternoon.
Not that he had reached the end of the journey.
But that he had entered a season where the greatest joy comes from watching others continue it.
As for me, I don't know exactly what season will come next.
But I know this.
Looking back, I didn't realize I was preparing for the next stage.
I was simply trying to be faithful in the one I was in.
And perhaps that's all any of us are ever called to do.
To learn with humility.
To build with purpose.
To steward with generosity.
And when the time comes...
To quietly pass along whatever wisdom we've been fortunate enough to receive.
Reflection
As you close this chapter, I invite you to ask yourself one final question.
When the people you love tell your story someday, what do you hope they'll say mattered most?
Because that answer has very little to do with the life you'll leave behind.
It has everything to do with the life you choose to live today.