Hope, Loss & Leadership: A Memorial Day Reflection
Welcome to a special edition of Toolkit Tuesday—coming to you on a Monday.
Honoring the fallen crew of Turbine 33. Bagram, Afghanistan — July 3, 2005. Eight warriors remembered. Never forgotten. NSDQ!
Yes, we know what day it is. We’re sending this a little early because today is Memorial Day, a time of remembrance, reflection and gratitude. We wanted to pause with you, share a tool that’s helped us navigate the highs and lows of leadership and honor the meaning of this day not just in words but in how we lead ourselves and others.
So There I Was...
It was Memorial Day a few years back, and I was sitting on the back porch, coffee in hand, trying to enjoy a slow morning. But inside, my mind was anything but slow. A heaviness had crept in—one that only those who’ve lost brothers-in-arms truly understand. I found myself riding low on the Hope Meter... Again...
Steve and I have both experienced the kind of loss that never fully heals. We’ve seen friends give everything and we carry that with us. Memorial Day brings their names to mind, their faces, the what-could-have-beens. It also brings a reminder: this pain is part of the story, but it’s not the whole story.
The Challenge
When you’ve walked through grief like that, hope doesn’t come automatically. Even years later, your hope meter can swing wildly. One day you're doing great, the next you’re stuck, burned out or defeated. It’s a roller coaster few talk about, but many ride silently.
For leaders, the real danger is ignoring the signals. When we don’t check in with ourselves, we drift. We lose touch with how we’re really doing. And if we’re not paying attention to our internal world, we can’t show up well for the people counting on us.
The Tool: Hope Meter
The Hope Meter is a simple but powerful tool. It asks a straightforward question: How hopeful are you today about your tomorrow? Then it gives you language to describe where you are—whether that’s hopeless, defeated, stuck, just ok, optimistic or even ecstatic.
This tool doesn’t just measure positivity. It gauges your ability to see a way forward. Are you surviving or thriving? Do you feel like you’re making progress or just going through the motions?
And here’s the key: the Hope Meter gives you permission to be honest with yourself and with others. It’s a check-in point to assess your internal state and take action before things slide further.
Why This Matters Now
Memorial Day is a moment to remember. But it can also be a moment where hope flickers low for many—especially veterans, Gold Star families and those who’ve lost loved ones. It’s a day when the red zone on the Hope Meter can feel all too real.
But I’ve learned this: hope is something we can rebuild. Another incredible tool we use, The Peace Index, has helped me ask deeper questions when my hope starts slipping:
What am I anxious about?
What’s stealing my peace?
Is it something I can control, influence or release?
These questions help me recalibrate. They help me lead myself so I can lead others.
The Result
Because I’ve learned to check my Hope Meter and take action, I don’t spiral as far or as fast. I’ve learned to ask for help, to journal, to take a walk, to speak the name of someone I’ve lost. I’ve learned that when I’m honest about where I am, I give others permission to do the same.
Over time, that honesty builds trust. Instead of settling for “I’m good” when I ask someone how they’re doing, I might hear “I’m feeling stuck today.” And that’s the beginning of a real conversation.
This is how we build cultures of authenticity and care. Not through perfection, but through courageous honesty.
Take Action
1. Use the Tools
Check Your Hope Meter – Where are you today? Be honest.
Take the Peace Index Assessment – and get clarity on what’s affecting your hope and peace.
Ask Someone Else – “How hopeful are you today about your tomorrow?” Then listen.
2. Want Help Building This Culture? Book a strategy call to learn how tools like the Hope Meter and Peace Index can shift your team culture.
Closing the Loop
So there I was—remembering my fallen brothers, feeling the ache. But instead of staying there, I checked in. I named the grief. I asked myself what I could do to lead myself through it. That’s how I moved forward. Not out of the pain, but with it.
This Memorial Day, may we remember the fallen. And may we honor them not just with flags and flowers, but by choosing to live with purpose, presence and hope.
NSDQ & Lead hard!
