A Conversation That Changed My Perspective
There are conversations that you enjoy, conversations that you remember, and then there are rare conversations that quietly change the way you see the world.
This story begins with one of those conversations.
A few months ago, I sat down with my friend Jeff. I've known Jeff for a long time. He's one of those people I've always respected, not because he has all the answers, but because he has a way of seeing life through a different lens. Throughout the years, I've looked to him for leadership, guidance, and perspective. Often, when I've found myself wrestling with a difficult decision or trying to understand the next chapter of life, Jeff has had a way of asking the one question that caused me to stop and think.
That afternoon wasn't much different.
Like most conversations between old friends, we talked about family, work, mutual friends, and what had been happening in our lives. We laughed about old stories and reflected on how quickly the years seem to pass. Somewhere in the middle of the conversation, however, Jeff said something that stayed with me long after we stood up and walked away.
He smiled and said, "I think I'm in the sage stage of life."
It wasn't something he had rehearsed. It wasn't meant to be profound. In fact, he said it almost matter-of-factly.
But I couldn't stop thinking about it.
Driving home that afternoon, I found myself asking a question I hadn't really considered before.
What stage of life am I in?
Not what age am I.
Not how many years do I have left.
But what season am I actually living?
Like I often do when something captures my curiosity, I began reading. I discovered that the idea of life unfolding in stages is anything but new. Philosophers, historians, psychologists, and theologians have all described life as a journey through seasons. Shakespeare famously wrote about the "seven ages of man." Ancient cultures spoke of life's cycles. Modern leadership thinkers describe the evolution from learning to building, from leading to mentoring.
While the terminology changes, the idea remains remarkably consistent.
Life doesn't simply move forward.
It unfolds.
As I reflected on my own life, I found myself drawn to a simple framework of four stages.
The first is the Learner.
This is the season where we're shaped more than we realize. Parents, grandparents, teachers, coaches, friends, failures, and successes all leave fingerprints on who we are becoming. At the time, we often think we're simply growing up. Looking back, we realize we were building a foundation that would support everything else.
The second is the Builder.
This is the season of proving ourselves. We build careers. We build families. We build businesses. We work long hours, make mistakes, take risks, and wonder if we're making any progress at all. It's often the busiest season of life, and perhaps the one where we spend the least amount of time reflecting because we're simply trying to keep moving forward.
The third is what I think of as the Steward.
Something begins to shift here.
Success starts becoming significance.
Instead of asking, "How do I become successful?" we begin asking, "How do I help someone else become successful?"
That change is subtle, but it changes everything.
You find yourself taking more joy in watching someone else grow than you do in another personal accomplishment. You begin investing in people instead of simply investing in outcomes. You discover that leadership isn't about being the smartest person in the room. It's about helping others discover what they're capable of becoming.
Then there is the final stage.
The Sage.
Before talking with Jeff, I think I misunderstood this stage completely.
I imagined it as retirement.
Slowing down.
Stepping aside.
What I've come to realize is that it's almost the opposite.
The sage doesn't stop contributing.
The sage simply changes what they contribute.
Earlier in life, we build businesses.
Later, we build people.
Earlier in life, we accumulate experiences.
Later, we interpret those experiences for others.
Earlier in life, we chase opportunities.
Later, we create opportunities for someone else.
The currency changes from achievement to wisdom.
That conversation with Jeff also helped me realize something else.
I'm not in a hurry.
There was a time when I was always looking toward the next milestone. The next promotion. The next opportunity. The next goal. Like most people, I often found myself believing that happiness lived somewhere just beyond whatever I was working toward.
Today, I see things differently.
I'm grateful for the season I'm in.
I still love building. I still love solving problems. I still love helping families, business owners, and farmers make decisions that will shape their futures. I love watching our team grow. I love seeing Ryan continue to develop as an advisor. I love watching people like Keegan, Jessie, and Nicole take ownership, grow in confidence, and become leaders in their own right. There is something deeply satisfying about seeing someone discover strengths they didn't know they had.
Perhaps that's one of the signs that my own season is changing.
Not because I've stopped building.
But because I've started finding even more joy in helping others build.
If I'm honest, I can also look back at earlier stages of my life with a little regret. There are decisions I wish I had made differently. Times I let my ego speak louder than my purpose. Moments where I confused activity with progress.
Age has a funny way of softening those regrets.
Not because they disappear, but because you begin to understand that they were part of becoming who you are today.
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.
Maybe that's true for all of us.
Maybe the learner doesn't know they're becoming a builder.
Maybe the builder doesn't realize they're preparing to become a steward.
Maybe the steward doesn't yet understand what it means to become a sage.
Life has a way of revealing those things only in hindsight.
Over the next several chapters, I'd like to share what each of these stages has looked like in my own life.
These aren't meant to be instructions.
They're simply stories.
Stories about family, mentors, mistakes, work, faith, friendships, and the people who quietly shaped me into the person I'm still becoming.
My hope isn't that you'll see my story.
My hope is that somewhere in these pages, you'll begin to recognize your own.
Because no matter where you are today, you're living in one of these seasons.
The question isn't whether you're moving through the stages of life.
The question is whether you're becoming the person this season is trying to create.