The Real Goal Wasn’t the Plan

You thought it was just picking up the baby. But it revealed everything: urgency, ego, clarity, leadership. I had a plan. But the real goal wasn’t the plan. It was the moment. The meaning. The memory. Leadership began the moment I stopped forcing and started inviting.

29 July 2025 | Leadership, Parenting, and the Quiet Wisdom of Presence

When the Routine Breaks, the Real Leadership Begins

It was meant to be a smooth, memorable day. Baby Arielle was finally coming home after a full month at the confinement center. For many, it might have seemed like a simple domestic milestone. But for me, it was the beginning of a new era: a season where presence, not pace, would define our days. I had rehearsed the logistics in my mind. I knew what time we would leave, what needed to be packed, how we would greet her. Everything was in place.

But what I had not accounted for was the human element.

As I called out to my children to get ready, I was met with resistance. One was still playing Lego, another was quietly working on a personal project. My eldest even asked, “Can I stay home?” That moment triggered something in me. Frustration. Then anger. Why could they not see how important this moment was? Why were they treating it like any other ordinary afternoon?

The anger, however, was not theirs to carry. It was mine. And beneath it lay something deeper: fear that they might miss the significance of this day, and perhaps a deeper self-awareness that I had not prepared them to see it. I realized I had not communicated clearly. I had simply assumed they knew what mattered, because it mattered to me.

From Command to Invitation

As the emotion simmered inside me, I paused and remembered a truth that has quietly guided my journey: “What causes your anger reveals who you are.” In that moment, I was not just a father, I was a mirror to my own leadership.

I stopped giving instructions and started giving context. I told them, gently but intentionally, “This is a historical day. Today, we reunite as a family. Today is the one and only day in our lives where we bring Arielle home from confinement. This is not just about helping with bags. It is about showing up for something sacred. Something that will never repeat.”

Then I asked them: “What do you choose?”

And to my relief, they both chose to come. Not because I ordered them. But because they were invited into the meaning.

That moment reminded me of something John C. Maxwell once taught that authority is the lowest form of leadership. You can demand obedience, but you cannot demand significance. Real leadership is not when people obey because they must. It is when they follow because they believe.

Devotion and Discomfort: A New Morning Lens

The day had started with morning devotion, as most Tuesdays do. But this time, it was different. None of the participants were Christians, yet they were open to listening. Normally, that might make me uncomfortable. I am a person of rhythm. I thrive on structure and predictability. But that morning, I made a choice to stretch to welcome the difference, and lead with presence instead of rigidity.

We opened Exodus 5:1: “This is what the Lord, the God of Israel, says: ‘Let my people go, so that they may hold a festival to me in the wilderness.’” At first glance, the verse might seem esoteric. Why a festival? Why in the wilderness?

Instead of deep exegesis, we reflected through John Maxwell’s leadership lens. He introduced the Plan Ahead principle, one I had known but had not deeply practiced in a while. The acronym stood out clearly:

  • Predetermine your course of action
  • Lay out your goals
  • Adjust your priorities
  • Notify key personnel
  • Allow time for acceptance
  • Head into action
  • Expect problems
  • Always point to your successes
  • Daily review your progress

It was not a Bible study. It was a leadership check-in. And every line, as we unpacked it, became a mirror, not just for the business, but for parenting, family, and personal development.

When Planning Becomes a Mirror

Later that day, I looked at how my failure with the children earlier in the day mirrored this framework. I had not “notified key personnel.” The plan was in my head, but not in theirs. That created the frustration I blamed on them, but it was rooted in my own lack of clarity. I had a plan, but I forgot to lead them into it.

“Allow time for acceptance” hit me the hardest. I tend to be fast, decisive, and results-oriented. But leadership is not just about speed, it is about timing. Acceptance takes time. Emotional readiness is not always scheduled.

Even the simple line “expect problems” grounded me. Life will throw curveballs. Even meaningful days like today. But when problems arise, the solution is not blame. It is presence. Re-centering. Re-choosing the point.

In Chinese, we say: 不要抓错重点 (Don’t grab the wrong point). The point was not speed. The point was significance. And I almost missed it.

Parenting with PDD: A Leadership Framework at Home

I have always taught our team the PDD framework: Purpose. Desired Outcome. Desired Response. I realized that I could apply the same thinking at home.

Purpose: Reunite as a family by picking up mommy and baby from the confinement center.

Desired Outcome: Help mommy pack, welcome her home, make it a joyful memory.

Desired Response: Children feel proud to participate. Mommy feels honored. The moment is captured and remembered with joy.

That framework brought clarity not only to the plan, but to the heart of the moment. I did not want perfect execution. I wanted connection.

And that is what real leadership creates.

The Cross-Pollination of Disruption

Later in the day, I found myself reflecting on how this disruption to my routine had actually nourished something new. Like plants that grow stronger when exposed to different genetic material, sometimes we need cross-pollination. A break from routine. A foreign element. A new voice at devotion. A new challenge at home.

These moments create friction, but they also create fruit.

If I had clung to my rhythm, my comfort, or my original schedule, I would have missed the growth. Not just for me, but for the children. For our family. For the culture we are trying to build.

A Glimpse into Legacy: When Teenagers Cry

That afternoon, I met with a group of Year 10 and Year 11 students. We had just finished a session on family and time, how by the time you finish high school, you have already spent 93% of the total time you will ever spend with your parents. That statistic always lands heavy. But today, it hit deeper.

One boy had missed the session the day before. But when we asked a simple question: If today were your last day, what would you do for your parents? He began to cry.

He told us, through tears, that he would repair his parents’ old iPhone 6. It sounded simple. Almost childish at first. But the more he spoke, the more we saw it: it was a symbol. A way of saying, “I see the problem. I want to fix it. I want to honor you.”

It reminded me of a story I had read just the day before. In China, a mother passed away in her sleep beside her son. The CCTV footage later showed that in the middle of the night, she had woken up, gently placed a blanket over her son, and then peacefully passed away.

That moment didn’t cost anything. But it meant everything.

The Reverse That Redefines It All

You thought the plan was the goal. But the plan was just the structure.

The real leadership began when the structure cracked.

And in the cracks, something more enduring emerged:

Presence. Honor. Memory.

If you had asked me yesterday what success looked like, I might have said: “Sticking to the plan.”

But today, I know better.

Success is when your children choose to come, not because you forced them, but because they saw the meaning. Success is when discomfort becomes growth. When routines bend and let something new in. When leadership is not a title, but a quiet voice that says: “Let’s try again, together.”

Because at the end of the day, legacy is not built by being right.

It is built by being real.