As I sit at my desk watching the rain pouring outside, I realize that summer is truly over.  I love summer.  I love the sunshine, and having lots of flowers on my deck, and the hummingbirds that keep me busy refilling the feeders once a day.  I love the fresh fruits and vegetables and grilling dinner and sitting outside in the evening with my husband and some friends and a good glass of red wine.   But while I am sad that summer has ended, I also love the changing of the seasons.  It reminds me that there is always another fresh start, another new day, another chance to have an impact or do something differently.  I can be sad that I must cover up the deck furniture, that the flowers have faded, that most of the hummingbirds have headed south.  Or I can decide what I'm going to accomplish during the last quarter of the year.  I can look forward to the fun holidays coming up, to my favorite stews, soups, and casseroles, and sitting inside by the fire in the evening with my husband and some friends and a good glass of red wine.  (Some things don't change!)  I can think about what was great this past summer, and start planning things I want to do next year.  Wouldn't it be silly to spend my time mourning the loss of summer, and lose out on the great things fall has to offer?

How often do we miss out on what's happening right now, because in our heads, we are still in what happened yesterday?  What will you do with this new season?  How will you move forward?  What kind of a fresh start can you make this fall?

Happy new year!  Today is the first day of the first 90 Day Challenge for 2014.  Have you decided what you are going to accomplish in your life by the end of March?  If you haven't , I suggest you watch this video and then get busy!  It's going to be March before you know it.  Make this year the best one of your life!

I had the privilege of attending Unleash the Power Within in Chicago earlier this month, then helping with an Advanced Skills Training for our new coaches.  It was an amazing, exhausting, inspiring, incredible nine days!  This is one of the videos shown during the training.  If you haven't seen it, give yourself the gift of ten minutes to watch it right now.  If you have seen it, watch it again.

Today is the funeral service of a dear friend and mentor, John Lenberg.  John passed away on Friday, June 7, surrounded by his family.  I first met John in 1997.  My husband and I took our then 17-year-old daughter to Kona, Hawaii, to attend our very first live Tony Robbins event:  Life Mastery.  At that time, for many reasons, we desperately needed something to be different.  And, as Tony promised, life would never be the same again.

In 1997, Life Mastery was a nine day event.  It included a 50 foot pole climb and a 40 foot firewalk.  We had no idea what we were getting into.  As I said, it was our first live Tony event.  I spent ten days in Hawaii, and never got to the beach once!

When we registered, we found out we were being put into teams.  Our daughter was on a different team.  I was a little concerned, and wanted to meet her trainer.  It was a man named John Lenberg.  I expressed my concerns and told him some of what had been going on with my daughter.  John immediately put me at ease and made of point of staying connected with her.  His influence helped make that a truly life changing event for her.

A few months later, I went to work as the administrative manager of the MUST team.  John was one of the first people to welcome me to the team.  He made me feel at home and constantly gave me encouragement and advice.  He was brilliant, irreverent, naughty, and just so much fun.  I could always count on John to make me laugh or teach me something.  He was fully supportive when my daughter joined the team a few years later, and they continued to build the bond that began in Hawaii.  John was a wonderful mentor to her and one of her best buddies on the team.  He was able to offer her advice in a way no one else could.  To quote my friend Lisa Morgan, John was one of the good guys.

Rest in peace, John.  Thank you for the way you touched my life.  You will be missed.

I don't know where this story originally came from, but it's a good one.

A NYC Taxi driver wrote:

I arrived at the address and honked the horn. After waiting a few minutes I honked again. Since this was going to be my last ride of my shift I thought about just driving away, but instead I put the car in park and walked up to the door and knocked.. 'Just a minute', answered a frail, elderly voice. I could hear something being dragged across the floor.

After a long pause, the door opened.  A small woman in her 90's stood before me. She was wearing a print dress and a pillbox hat with a veil pinned on it, like somebody out of a 1940's movie.  By her side was a small nylon suitcase.  The apartment looked as if no one had lived in it for years.  All the furniture was covered with sheets.

There were no clocks on the walls, no knickknacks or utensils on the counters.  In the corner was a cardboard box filled with photos and glassware.

"Would you carry my bag out to the car?" she said.  I took the suitcase to the cab, then returned to assist the woman.  She took my arm and we walked slowly toward the curb.

She kept thanking me for my kindness.  "It's nothing," I told her.  "I just try to treat my passengers the way I would want my mother to be treated."

"Oh, you're such a good boy," she said.  When we got in the cab, she gave me an address and then asked, "Could you drive through downtown?"

"It's not the shortest way," I answered quickly..

"Oh, I don't mind," she said.  "I'm in no hurry.  I'm on my way to a hospice."

I looked in the rear-view mirror.  Her eyes were glistening.  "I don't have any family left," she continued in a soft voice.  "The doctor says I don't have very long."

I quietly reached over and shut off the meter.

"What route would you like me to take?" I asked.

For the next two hours, we drove through the city.  She showed me the building where she had once worked as an elevator operator.

We drove through the neighborhood where she and her husband had lived when they were newlyweds.  She had me pull up in front of a furniture warehouse that had once been a ballroom where she had gone dancing as a girl.

Sometimes she'd ask me to slow in front of a particular building or corner and would sit staring into the darkness, saying nothing.

As the first hint of sun was creasing the horizon, she suddenly said, "I'm tired. Let's go now."

We drove in silence to the address she had given me.  It was a low building, like a small convalescent home, with a driveway that passed under a portico.

Two orderlies came out to the cab as soon as we pulled up.  They were solicitous and intent, watching her every move.  They must have been expecting her.

I opened the trunk and took the small suitcase to the door.  The woman was already seated in a wheelchair.

"How much do I owe you?" she asked, reaching into her purse.

"Nothing," I said.

"You have to make a living," she answered.

"There are other passengers," I responded.

Almost without thinking, I bent and gave her a hug.  She held onto me tightly.

"You gave an old woman a little moment of joy," she said.  "Thank you."

I squeezed her hand, and then walked into the dim morning light.  Behind me, a door shut.  It was the sound of the closing of a life.

I didn't pick up any more passengers that shift.  I drove aimlessly, lost in thought.  For the rest of that day, I could hardly talk.  What if that woman had gotten an angry driver, or one who was impatient to end his shift?  What if I had refused to take the run, or had honked once, then driven away?

On a quick review, I don't think that I have done anything more important in my life.

We're conditioned to think that our lives revolve around great moments.

But great moments often catch us unaware--beautifully wrapped in what others may consider a small one.

If you haven't seen this video, it's definitely worth watching.