Making Good Choices

It happened ten years ago, but I still think about it.

Tammy and I had invited some friends over for dinner—just a simple, relaxed Friday evening, mostly sitting around the kitchen table. One of the couples brought along their young daughter, Grier, who was about two years old. While the adults sat around the table catching up and sharing stories, the toddler did what most of us tend to do—she wandered.

Our house at the time had a staircase just around the corner from the kitchen that provided access to the second floor. You couldn't see the stairs from where we were all seated, but you could hear any footsteps when someone was climbing them. So even though mom didn't have a direct line of sight to her daughter, she remained very aware of things. She knew the stairs would be tempting. They offered mystery, an excitement of the unknown, and the adventure of the climb.

Every so often, mom would pause mid-conversation and call out to her daughter—not in panic, but with practiced care: "I hope you make good choices!"

It wasn't phrased as a command. It was a gentle nudge to the child that she needed to learn some measure of responsibility—even at the age of two—for the choices she was making. The little girl could still explore and test boundaries. But her mother was training her, even in the moment, to think for herself and begin discerning right from wrong, safety from danger, wisdom from foolishness.

That moment was not just about parenting—it was a small but vivid metaphor for leadership. Great leaders, like wise parents, resist the urge to control every move. Instead, they guide, they watch, and they create environments where good choices can be learned and practiced.

The mom didn't run around the corner and block her daughter's path. She didn't hover. Instead, she was offering the child a taste of personal responsibility.

Over the years, Tammy and I occasionally laugh when an important decision is looming. One of us will quietly whisper to the other, "I hope you make good choices."

It wasn't until more recently that I began considering this story from a higher altitude. I believe there's some wisdom in here regarding how God trains us as well. He could easily lock every door that leads to a bad decision. He could also shout louder. But more often, I picture Him calling out gently—"I hope you're making good choices."

He's not disengaged. Quite the opposite. He's eminently alert, aware, and always within reach. But He's also building our capacity to choose wisely, to develop discernment, and to live out the consequences of our own decisions. That's part of growing up—not just in birthday years, but in spiritual maturity.

In leadership, parenting, and even friendships, there comes a point where control must give way to trust. Wise leaders know that people don't grow when you micromanage every step or force compliance. They grow when they're invited to think, to act, and to reflect on the outcomes of their behavior.

Mom's voice that evening struck me as neither fearful nor authoritarian. It was expectant, hopeful. She wasn't just warning—she was giving the child enough space to obey. She was saying, in essence, "You're capable of choosing well. I trust you're learning. And I'm reminding you that I'm close by if you need me."

Isn't that what the best mentors do for us in life? And isn't that what God—who could easily control everything—so often does for us?

And in the workplace, leaders who aim to cultivate excellence must take the same posture. Micromanagement might deliver short-term compliance, but it never fosters long-term capability or loyalty. Teams grow stronger when expectations are clear, when trust is present, and when people are allowed to navigate their own learning curve—with support nearby, but not in the way.

It's easy to look at a toddler and imagine how many choices lie ahead and how guidance matters. But for those of us well beyond toddlerhood, the need doesn't disappear. We're still climbing stairs we haven't previously encountered. We're still drawn to places where the footing is uncertain. And if we're honest, all of us are still learning.

I think the more important question isn't, "What are the rules?" but rather, "Am I learning to make better choices with the options available to me?"

Learning most often comes through experience. Sometimes it even comes from remembering the voice of someone wise who previously offered us counsel. I tend to think, though, it also comes (when we're quiet enough) from small whispers about making good decisions.

Whether we're leading a team or raising a child, excellence is not enforced—it's nurtured. So perhaps the most faithful, forward-looking leadership voice is the one that says, not with control but with confidence: "I hope you're making good choices."

It's a quiet invitation to grow, a signal of trust, and a pathway to maturity—for those we lead, and for ourselves. Pretty good advice for all of us (especially for me).