These Tuesday mornings are our reset. And today, we talked about something heavy: burnout.

Not the surface-level kind—the real kind. The slow erosion of joy. The kind that shows up not just when you’re tired, but when you’ve lost your reason for showing up at all.

We’ve both seen it in people we know—hard workers who are exhausted not by what they do, but by why they’re doing it. Or more accurately, because they don’t know why anymore. And when you don’t know why, the grind becomes soul-crushing.

Over the weekend, I spoke at the American Advertising Federation to a group of students studying design and media. I looked at them and saw myself at that age—wide-eyed, hopeful, convinced that doing what I loved would make me happy forever.

I told them the truth: Doing what you love will not keep you happy. That idea sounds nice. But it’s a lie.

Because work, even the dream kind, cannot sustain you by itself. Passion fades. Deadlines pile up. Clients cancel. Trends shift. And if your sense of fulfillment is attached to your title or talent, it’ll eventually leave you empty.

Happiness doesn’t come from what you do—it comes from why you do it.

For me, it’s my four daughters. It’s Sarah. It’s our little life. It’s walking into my home at night and knowing I’ve given them safety and opportunity. That’s what makes the grind feel sacred.

My brother said something that stuck with me this morning: “I love when I get home, grab a beer, and just watch my family. My wife gets something she wanted on Amazon, my kids grab the food they like from the fridge—and I realize, I did that. I helped make that happen.” That feeling? That’s not pride. That’s gratitude.

And here’s something I’ve come to believe:
When the world gives you something and you respond with true gratitude, the world turns around and waits on you. It slows down. It watches. It says, “I’m at your service.” And it waits patiently for the next opportunity to feel appreciated.

There’s a story in the Bible that mirrors this. Jesus heals ten lepers. Only one comes back to thank Him. And it’s that one—not the others—who receives something deeper than healing. He receives wholeness. That’s what gratitude does. It doesn’t just get you through the door. It transforms the room you’re standing in.

So whatever your purpose is—family, faith, the love of the craft, or simply the quiet dignity of doing something well—lean into it.

Because when you live with purpose, gratitude flows. And when you live in gratitude, life doesn’t pass you by. It walks beside you, nods its head, and says,
“What would you like next?”