Today marks the first full week of the new year. Like me, you probably feel a mix of excitement, eagerness, and optimism for what lies ahead. A new journey. New places. New opportunities as we travel down the road of life and business. But for many of us, we get stopped before we ever really get started. We remember how badly we stumbled last year—the screw-ups, the disappointments, the failures, and the fears. And the thought creeps in: Is it even worth the effort if this year is just going to look like last year? Starting new and fresh is always good, and it can lead to great things. Let me give you an example. In 1888, at just thirteen years old, Winston Churchill entered Harrow School, one of the most prestigious schools in England. Upon taking his entrance exam, he failed miserably. The headmaster took pity on him and admitted him anyway. Although excited for the opportunity, Winston finished at the bottom of his class—and by bottom, I mean dead last. He wasn’t considered very bright, was small for his age, and fell ill more often than most boys. Eventually, his father recommended that Winston pursue a military career, where the Churchill name had earned fame and glory. Winston leapt at the opportunity and applied to Sandhurst, the British equivalent of West Point. There was only one problem: he had to pass the entrance exam. He failed it. Then failed it again. Then failed it a third time. Finally, on his last attempt, he passed and was admitted. It was a fresh start—and one Churchill refused to waste. He identified the gaps in his education and consumed every book he could find just to keep up with his classmates. By the time he graduated from Sandhurst, he finished 8th out of 150. What would the story of Winston Churchill be if he had allowed his early failures to define his future? What would the fate of Britain have been if he had looked backward instead of forward? Thankfully, we don’t have to answer those questions. The past didn’t define who Winston Churchill was—or who he was meant to become. And it doesn’t define you either.

I hope everyone has a memorable, magical day with your family!

You’ve been deflecting for weeks now — avoiding the one thing you know you need to do. Every day you walk into your office and decide to put it off. No, it’s not buying the Christmas gift for your wife (although you should probably do that too). It’s not making the phone call to the one client you really don’t want to talk to. It’s building the business plan for next year. But since we talked about it last week, I’m going to assume you’ve done that (right?). So now that the plan exists, the real question becomes: how do we execute it? We start by accomplishing one thing. It doesn’t have to take all day or be something excruciating that you dread. All we’re looking for is getting 1% better every day. James Clear, author of Atomic Habits, explains it this way: if you improve by just 1% each day for a year, you’ll end up thirty-seven times better than when you started. Small wins — or small setbacks — don’t stay small. They compound. So if improving by just 1% a day can create that kind of growth, what’s stopping us? In my opinion, it’s unrealistic expectations. We live in a world that wants results now. We want a six-pack after a week in the gym. We want our coffee five minutes ago. We want success tomorrow. But that’s not how it works. We start with the vision, develop the plan, and then execute the habits every single day. Think about it like this. You plant a small oak tree in your backyard. The next morning, you look out the window and nothing has changed. A week goes by — still no noticeable growth. Is something wrong with the tree? No. Beneath the surface, the roots are taking hold. It’s absorbing nutrients. The process has already started. The tree’s DNA is programmed for growth. Every day, it’s doing exactly what it was designed to do. A year from now, it’s taller. Five years later, it’s fuller. Eventually, it produces acorns and nourishes the ecosystem around it. We’re no different. Growth requires commitment. It takes determination to fight through the storms and patience to accept that progress may not show up tomorrow. But if we’re willing to persevere — to improve by just 1% every day — the results will come.

I was nervous. I knew I had to have the hard conversation, but I didn’t want to at all. Honestly, I even tried to push it off on someone else—which was wrong—but that’s how badly I wanted to avoid it. So what issue had me tied in knots for weeks? Good question. I was a new broker at an office we had just taken over. One agent stood out—she had a ton of potential to rise above her current performance. She was sharp, personable, and well-spoken. But every day she came to work in sweatpants and a sweatshirt. I knew I needed to encourage her to dress for success—not only because of how others perceived her, but also because of how it could impact her own mindset and confidence. The problem? There’s almost nothing more uncomfortable than a man having to talk to a woman about how she dresses. Be real—when your wife asks how she looks in a new dress, there’s only one right answer: “You look incredible, baby!” But when you’re the leader, you don’t get to dodge the uncomfortable. You don’t get to ignore it. If you want to set a standard and build a strong culture, you have to run toward the tough conversations. Finally, I asked her to step into the office. I began with genuine compliments about her talent and potential, then gently leaned into how her attire might be holding her back. When I finished, I braced myself—I was half-expecting a stapler to come flying at my head. Instead, she smiled and said, “Caleb, you’re right. I never really thought about it that way. I’ll start dressing more professionally.” What happened next blew me away. Over the next few weeks, not only did she dress sharper—she walked taller. Her confidence grew, and by the end of the year, she had her best production year ever. It left me wondering: what if I had never had that hard conversation? How much would I have taken away from her by avoiding what could actually help her grow? As Stephen Covey said, “Holding people to the responsible course is not demeaning; it is affirming.” It shows someone you care enough about them—and that you see so much potential in them—that you refuse to let them stay where they are.

In the 1830s, Abraham Lincoln entered into a business partnership with William Berry to open a general store in New Salem, Illinois. Lincoln had high hopes—dreaming of success, financial freedom, and a thriving place in his community. Unfortunately, things didn’t go as planned. His partner Berry struggled with alcoholism, and when he passed away in 1835, Lincoln was left holding $1,100 in debt (over $40,000 in today’s money). Most men would have walked away. But Lincoln made a choice: he was determined to repay every cent. And he did. That genuine act of integrity helped earn him the nickname “Honest Abe,” a reputation that would eventually propel him to the presidency in 1860. Trust is one of the most essential principles for any relationship, business, or endeavor, if not the most essential. As a real estate broker, I’ve had countless moments where clients, overwhelmed by the mountain of details in a big transaction, stop and say: “I trust you. Whatever you think, I’ll do.” Few words weigh more heavily on me than those. And yet, nothing honors me more. When someone says they trust me, I know they’ve looked at my character and decided I have no selfish motive, no hidden agenda, only their best interest at heart. That’s the standard I strive for every day—so that when someone scans Caleb Moore’s “barcode,” it lights up in green letters: TRUST. Abraham Lincoln once said: “Stand with anybody that stands right, and part ways when he goes wrong.” That’s the truth about trust. When we find people who prove untrustworthy, we can’t just quietly back away—we need to run. Because once you’re stamped as untrustworthy, it doesn’t just hurt your career; it destroys your character. And a damaged reputation is something you may never fully recover from. So I’ll leave you with a poem that has constantly reminded me of what it means to carry the weight of trust: Your Name You got it from your father, It was all he had to give, So it’s yours to use and cherish, For as long as you may live.