Where the sea met a rugged coastline and fog often blurred the line between sea and sky, a lighthouse keeper began each evening the same way.

He climbed a narrow spiral staircase carrying a small can of oil. He trimmed the wick, polished the great Fresnel lens, and lit the lamp.

The sailors who found their way home would likely never meet the man who kept the light burning.

To him, tending the light was a quiet promise to every sailor whose eyes searched the horizon after sunset, whether they realized it or not.

Too often, we become so consumed by the current of our daily routines that we forget to ask where they are carrying us.

If I had to name the one habit that has improved my life the most…

It’s choosing to remember that I have a purpose.

Everything else follows.

Gratitude.

Prayer.

Showing up.

I’ve learned that purpose gives ordinary moments extraordinary meaning.