“We are not the makers of history. We are made by history.” — Martin Luther King Jr.
Every December for the last 20 years or so, my wife and I put up a small Christmas tree in our home—nothing elaborate, not meant to impress. Instead of shiny ornaments, the branches hold the patches of every unit I served in during my 33-year US Army career. Armor, cavalry, infantry units, stateside assignments, overseas tours, combat, staff jobs, deployments—each patch is a point in my life and carries a story. They reflect the experiences and the names and faces of people who left fingerprints on the person I became. It’s a memory tree, and when I look at it the recollections invariably flood my mind. This generates for me and for all of us a question that is especially fitting for the end-of-year holiday season: How’d you get here?
None of us arrived at the present moment by accident. We are compilations of the places we’ve been and the people who walked with us—the tough bosses who demanded more than we thought we could give; the soldiers who trusted us with their lives; the friends who challenged us, the mentors who steadied us, the critics who sharpened us, the strangers who befriended us. Each assignment on my tree represents a destination on a long journey—one that shaped my values, my leadership philosophy, my way of seeing the world, and even my understanding of vulnerability. We like to imagine we built ourselves. The truth is, we were shaped.
But this reflection isn’t about nostalgia or self-congratulation. It’s about awareness. If we take the time to reflect on the destinations of our lives—career stops, friendships made, heartbreaks, victories, failures—we start to see patterns. We start to see how each stop, even those unpleasant or ones we’d like to forget, taught us something essential. Maybe it was humility. Maybe resilience. Maybe empathy. Maybe the hard lesson that success is never a solo act. If we’re willing to look honestly at our past, we gain clarity about how—and why—we show up the way we do today. And from that clarity comes not only gratitude, but the chance to continue to grow.
The holiday season, with its rituals and reminders, offers us an invitation to pause. Look at your own “patches,” whatever they may be. They might not hang on a Christmas tree, but they’re there—moments stitched into your identity. Ask yourself: What did I learn at each stop? Who helped me? Who challenged me? What did that chapter prepare me for next? When we connect those dots and look back and consider them from where we are and who we are today, our story makes more sense. Our path indeed becomes less random. And our present-day self becomes something we understand more clearly rather than simply inhabit.
So, as this little tree lights up my living room and activates my recollections once again, I’m reminded of the cliché that the journey matters as much as the destination. I am who I am today largely because of those patches—because of the Soldiers I led, the leaders I served, the mistakes I made, the failures, and the second chances I was given along the way. The same is true for all of us. This holiday season, I invite you to look back at your own journey. Trace the steps. Remember the people. Honor the lessons. Because when you understand how you got here, you gain a clearer sense of how you might show up tomorrow.