A few years ago, I came across a beautiful story written by a woman named Pam Kearney in a local newspaper.

I set a calendar reminder to re-read this every single year:

I visited Matthew, the owner of Lucy’s Flour Shop a little while back. As I nibbled on an enormous chocolate chip cookie I began to tell him a story.

A few years back on a bitterly cold December evening, there was a visitation at the funeral home across the street from his bakery.

The people, bundled up in coats, scarves, and blankets were lined up around the building waiting to hug the family of the deceased.

Seemingly out of nowhere, a man showed up and began giving away hot coffee to the people outside. People who entered the funeral home with coffee in their hands whispered of a mysterious man handing out free coffee, and how much they appreciated it.

I looked at Matthew and said, "I have a suspicion that you were that man. Is that right?"

Matthew very humbly replied, "Yes, I felt so bad for them and wanted to do something, but all I could do was make coffee, so I made coffee."

I responded that he blessed so many people that night by helping them warm up and by showing there’s good in the world. He added a positive note to a devastating situation.

I paused, then added, “That visitation was for my sixteen-year-old son. Thank you for being so kind.”

That conversation has stuck in my head since then:"

All I could do was make coffee, so I made coffee."

I want you to read that final line again...

"All I could do was make coffee, so I made coffee."

You can imagine Matthew, standing in his shop, looking out at the line of people standing in the cold on that December evening.

In that moment, I'm sure he felt rather helpless, even paralyzed. He wanted to do something to help, but the imperfection of his options weighed on him.

He couldn't change the weather. He couldn't reverse their loss. He couldn't take away their sadness or suffering.

All he could do was make coffee, so he made coffee.

The Most Important Decision in Life

Every single day, we face our own version of this situation.

Different circumstances, yes, but the same general experience:

We feel stuck. Completely frozen. Not because of the lack of options, but because none of the options are perfect. None of the options feel big enough. None will solve the entire problem or fix the entire issue.

So, most of the time, we do nothing.

But nothing is the one option that's guaranteed to change nothing.

Since starting this newsletter five years ago, I've shared over 500 pieces and 1,000,000 words.

If I could synthesize the lessons down to one single statement, it would be the following:

Do the thing.

Take the action. Just start. Show up. Make the move. Walk the path.

Because the change you want to see doesn't happen unless you create it. The new life you want doesn’t magically appear. It’s built through action. New habits. New mindsets. New standards. New boundaries.

Action, however imperfect, is always the cost of entry.

I might think of it as the Paradox of Imperfection:

The most perfect outcomes are often just a byproduct of a large volume of imperfect actions.

In the immortal words of Teddy Roosevelt:

"Do what you can, with what you have, where you are."

As you continue on this crazy adventure we call life, you will face daily moments that conspire to make you feel completely helpless. You'll feel paralyzed. Unable to see a clear path to create momentum or improve the situation.

In these moments, you have a decision to make:

• You can freeze, paralyzed by the imperfection of your options...or
• You can act. You can do what you can, with what you have, where you are. You can make the coffee.

This is the single most important decision of your life.

Reflect on the moments where you or someone you know "made the coffee" and changed everything.

When my childhood home burned down in 2014, our friends couldn't rebuild the house, help with the insurance, save the lost items, or do anything to turn back time.

But they showed up: They brought my parents home-cooked meals, bought them fresh underwear, and sat with them for hours.

They made the coffee.

When an old college friend was in a dark place in his life, battling alcohol abuse, our friend group was spread across the country. We couldn't give him any meaningful advice or stage an intervention.

But we showed up: We organized group FaceTime calls to be with him, to let him know he was loved.

We made the coffee.

When I found myself in a terrible rut in 2021, living far away from my parents, lost and uncertain about the future, I couldn't snap my fingers and change everything. I couldn't change my life in a day.

But I showed up: I started writing every morning, following my energy, and opened a conversation with my wife about a move.

I made the coffee.

Making the coffee isn't just for the moments of turmoil or crisis. It's for the ordinary Tuesday when you dread getting out of your warm bed. It's for the business idea that's been sitting in your head for two years. It's for the hard conversation you've been avoiding. It's for the workout you want to skip on the day when everything fell into chaos. It's for the dream that feels too big to begin.

The moments themselves can be big or small, but the lesson is clear:

Action doesn't have to be perfect for it to be right.

So, the next time you face a situation and start to feel helpless, remember:

Just make the coffee.

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