Whatever You Put Out There Comes Back to You

Last Friday morning, I’m sitting in the CVS parking lot in Orland Park while my friend and colleague John runs inside to grab markers for the communication training we’re heading to for Elim’s Staff Development Day.

It’s taking a rather long time.

Suddenly, he swings open the car door and says: “Sorry that took so long. I pulled a Jenny.”

I wasn’t entirely sure what that meant.

“I was done ten minutes ago,” he explained, “but I got into a conversation with one of the employees and started telling him a story.”

John assumed, since I’m a storyteller by trade, that I engage in this sort of thing all the time.

“John,” I told him, “I need to disabuse you of that notion. When it comes to CVS, Jewel, or places like that, I’m usually in and out as fast as possible. No small talk. No stories.”

“Really?” he said, genuinely shocked. “I just assumed you were always the same bubbly self with everybody that you are with me—or when I see you leading a group.”

“Not exactly. I can absolutely be friendly and chatty in public. But a lot of times, I’m rushing, distracted, or just don’t have the energy to engage.”

As we drove on to our speaking gig, I found myself telling John how much I admire people like him who make time to connect with others without exception—my husband Bill, my mom, my sister-in-law in Denver, a few close friends. “You never fail to stop and chat, John. It’s like you bring a little spark of joy wherever you go.”

And I remember thinking: I wish I brought that same energy into my everyday life more consistently.

Which somehow led me to the Cubs and Joe Maddon.

With the Cubs on a winning streak, my sister has practically worn out “Go Cubs Go.” I mean she cranks up the. entire. song. every. game.

Of course you remember Joe Maddon from 2016 and the Cubs’ World Series victory? Well, early in his career, Joe tells a story about missing out on a baseball job he really wanted. He was discouraged, stuck in a middle seat on a plane heading to Midland, Texas, when the woman next to him struck up a conversation.

Double ugh.

But at one point during the flight, she says this: “Whatever you put out there comes back to you.”

Maddon says he got off the plane a changed person.

That phrase became his mantra—for coaching, for leadership, for life. He even started a nonprofit built around the idea.

And I’ve been thinking about that a lot lately.

Because we live in a world where our phones make it so easy to disconnect from the people right in front of us. Yet neuroscience tells us that even brief moments of connection—smiling at someone, chatting with a stranger, sharing a story—are good for us.

And while I may not always pull a John at the grocery store, I’ve always been drawn to work that brings people together—through my trainings, performances, and now through LIFT—our new community learning initiative that hubby Bill and I co-direct in Elmhurst.

Not just events. Not just communication strategies. But spaces where people can reconnect with each other—and maybe even with parts of themselves that get buried beneath scrolling, stress, and too much streaming the latest shows.

Our LIFT summer catalog is out now, and we’re offering everything from storytelling workshops and a pop choir to cooking classes, travel talks, concerts, and community gatherings designed to bring people together face to face.

And in my own work this season, I find myself returning again and again to the same idea:

What we put out into the world matters.

So maybe this summer is a good time for all of us to put out a little more joy. A little more curiosity. A little more conversation.

Who knows? It might just come back to us.