So…
I meant to share much of this a few weeks ago, around December 30th, when the year was quiet enough to actually hear your own thinking. Maybe the timing is still right… or even better now.
Over the years, one thing I’ve consistently focused on is preparedness.
Those who know me well—from long-standing partners in the national service ecosystem, to friends who share my passion for service (yet still have no idea what I do for a living)—know that I keep journals. No, they’re not diaries. They’re my working documents—pages filled with questions, scenarios, logic models, and problem-solving.
At times, the writing is sparked by a challenge I’ve witnessed firsthand. Other times, it’s driven by something I sense forming just beyond the horizon. Either way, the practice is the same: slow down, think ahead, and jot it down.
In my last post, I shared a kind of leadership wrapped—a series of questions meant to look back at what shaped the year, what demanded attention, and what quietly mattered more than I expected. It was a bit of reconnaissance, really—reflection in service of moving forward with greater clarity.
As I was closing out 2025, one thought kept surfacing loudly:
“Be ready.”
I didn’t hear, “Be busy.”
I didn’t hear, “Be reactive.”
I heard “Be ready” in a more profound sense: mentally, operationally, spiritually, and strategically.
The old Red Crosser in me never fully let go of preparedness and continuity planning. (Give this a star if you remember the Be Red Cross Ready campaign.) Back then, the work required scenario thinking: If this happens, what do we do? If this system fails, what’s our next move? What can we do and what should we do?
Preparedness was always rooted in respect for reality.
In my coaching and consulting work, we often talk about solving for X. If the worst-case scenario actually happened—funding changes, leadership turnover, policy shifts, personal disruption—what would you do next?
I often hear the question, “What scenarios should we plan for?”
My answer is simple: start with whatever causes you the most anxiety.
Planning for the hardest outcomes, the ones that provoke the greatest fear, often reduces that fear. Even a short plan helps: knowing who you’d call, what you’d pause, or which first step you’d take restores a sense of agency and steadiness.
This applies to our personal lives just as much as our vocations. Preparedness doesn’t require a perfect plan. It requires enough clarity to move when clarity feels scarce.
For those of us in the national service and civic leadership space, this conversation isn’t new. Years ago, an intentional question was added to grant applications: What would your organization do if National Service disappeared? How would you continue the work? How would you sustain the impact?
That question is returning. It may not be explicitly stated in the soon-to-be-released NOFO, but the urgency is hard to miss.
The year ahead may continue shifts we’re already seeing. Outcomes will matter more than intentions. Good stories and firm commitments will still matter, but they won’t stand alone. We’ll need better evaluation, more unmistakable evidence, and more disciplined ways of articulating long-term impact—not just on the communities served, but on those who serve.
That responsibility doesn’t rest solely with evaluators or funders. It rests with us, as leaders. As supervisors. As organizations committed to building capacity, not just activity.
To be prepared, I ask you to:
At this moment, a deeper question surfaces—one I’ve returned to and mentioned before: What are the habits, assumptions, and systems that carried us through one season, but may not be the ones that will sustain us in the next?
In the midst of uncertainty, honor your team, your members, your partners, those you serve, and yourself enough to plan.
Be well.
Be brave.
Be blessed.
Be ready.
-TTSD
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