To be in awe.

There it is. The mountain.

I live in Washington state, and Mount Rainier is in practically in my backyard. Sometimes, I stop the car just to look. I don't reach for my phone. I don't try to capture it. I just look.

The snow. The way it holds the light. The sheer size of it against everything else. Majestic!

My breath catches. My shoulders drop. And for a moment, I feel small - beautifully, gratefully small - and completely overwhelmed.

That's awe.

What I've learned about awe is it requires us to be present. And being present requires us to slow down. To pause. To stop and take it in.

So what is awe, really? And how do we find it?

Awe is the moment wonder takes our breath away. It is moment we stop, look beyond ourselves, and recognize the beauty, possibility, or sacredness of what is right in front of us.

It's creation.
It’s watching a newborn baby taking its first breath and thinking, This baby came from me!
It's answered prayer.
It's watching your child put in all the effort and absolutely crush it.
It's seeing a tropical sunset for the first time. It’s the moment a dream becomes real.
It's watching your bride walk down the aisle.
It's signing the loan, getting the keys to your house, walking across the threshold and saying, This is mine.

And sometimes, it's much smaller than that.

Recently, I was telling my coach about a Build-a-Bike experience we facilitated with the Texas Christian University Women’s Soccer team. The players built bikes for six children from a local Title I school. One of the girls, around thirteen years old, rode with me in the elevator to the Legends Club at Amon G. Carter Stadium, TCU’s football stadium. Her eyes opened wide. “I’ve never been in an elevator like this before,” she said.

I stopped and paused in that elevator.

An elevator. The kind of thing most of us step into without a second thought. To her, it was wonder. And for a moment, standing next to her, it became wonder to me again too. How many extraordinary things have become ordinary simply because we experience them every day?

When we reached the top, the children and their families stood in the Legends Club, looking out over the stadium. One of the kids turned to his mom and asked, "Do you think we could come back and watch a game?"

That is one of the powers of awe.

Awe opens our minds to the possibility of dreaming.

My coach told me about a time he volunteered with a youth mentoring organization in New York. The organization took a group of kids snowboarding.During the bus ride to the mountains, he was talking with a big, tall kid who was about thirteen years old. Suddenly, the boy stopped speaking and pressed his face against the window.

"Man, are you okay?” my coached asked.

The boy pointed. "That's a horse."

“Yes,” my coach responded, unsure of what he meant. The kid said, "I've never seen a real horse."

Awe.

The child seeing a horse for the first time is experiencing the same thing as the groom watching his bride walk down the aisle. Breath taken. Self forgotten. Something bigger than you, right in front of you. The difference isn't the awe. It's just what triggered it.

Awe awakens curiosity. It expands our perspective. It reminds us we are part of something bigger than ourselves. It can be inspired by nature, music, faith, extraordinary courage, human connection, an unexpected act of kindness. And so much more.

But we have to slow down long enough to experience it.

The Power of a Pause.

In 2011, one year after we started Driven Leadership, I walked onto TCU’s campus for the first time. I didn't attend college, so standing on a university campus and preparing to teach a two-day leadership course to the men's tennis team was mind-blowing. It was exciting, scary, overwhelming, and exhilarating all at once. I was in awe.

I was also battling imposter syndrome like crazy. I was terrified someone would ask about the letters behind my name or where I had gone to school.

It began when I said to David Roditi, who had just become the men’s tennis coach, “I’d love to be your coach. Coaches need coaches too.”

Then I asked, “David, how can I work with your team?”

I knew I had tools and skills that could help his players open up, communicate, build deeper trust, break down walls, and work toward a common vision.

“Let me watch your practice,” I said. “Can I see what you do? Can I sit in on one of your meetings?”

And doors opened.

Fifteen years and dozens of campuses later, TCU has become a second home. All of it, every bit of it, began with one courageous act: putting myself in a very uncomfortable place and asking.

And that girl in the elevator? That was TCU. Fifteen years later, while standing in the very place I had once entered feeling terrified and uncertain, a thirteen-year-old girl handed the awe right back to me.

Because she was me.

Fifteen years ago, I was the one standing wide-eyed on a threshold, certain I didn’t belong, taking one terrifying step anyway.

I don't ever want to lose that sense of wonder.

We live in such a fast-paced world. There is always something next.

The next presentation.
The next class.
The next client.
The next meeting.

Cooking dinner. Getting the kids to practice. Putting them to bed. Cleaning the house. Mowing the lawn.

The list goes on and on.

When was the last time you stopped? When was the last time you looked around, saw something through a different lens, and allowed yourself to be amazed?

Lee Ann Womack sings a line I love: "I hope you never lose your sense of wonder."

Neither do I.

Awe requires presence. It requires focus. And sometimes it requires courage.

It requires saying yes when you're terrified and everything inside you wants to say no.

Awe also requires gratitude. “Wow. This is bigger than me."

What I've come to believe is gratitude unlocks awe, and awe unlocks gratitude.

Sometimes, I pause and allow myself to bask in a moment of gratitude, and suddenly, I am filled with awe. Other times, I find myself standing in awe of Mount Rainier, the waves of the ocean, or the incredible stars in the Fiji sky and gratitude simply begins to flow.

It’s slowing down, looking at the person you love, and feeling completely overwhelmed by the gift of them.

Awe and gratitude.Both at once.

It starts with curiosity:

Is this possible?
How is this possible?
Can it be possible?
And then, it expands everything.

So let me leave you with this:

Stop the car.
Put down the phone.
Look up.

Where is awe waiting for you today? Where can you slow down and take it in? What moment might remind you, I stood on a threshold once and look at what has transpired because I made one courageous choice?

Let your breath catch.
Let your shoulders drop.
Let yourself feel small.

Stand and be amazed.