Built Like Stonehenge. Tested by Montana.

An October weekend, 20 inches of snow, and a reminder that resilience isn’t about standing still.

Well, I’ve officially heard it all.

Friday, I was enjoying one of those beautiful Montana fall days. Eighty degrees, blue skies, sunshine, and a golf course calling my name.

As I was visiting with a gentleman at the pro shop, he looked me up and down and offered an observation that I can honestly say I’ve never heard before.

“The people who crafted Stonehenge must have made you. You sure are a big fella.”

Stonehenge.

Not a linebacker. Not a lumberjack. Not Paul Bunyan.

Stonehenge.

Apparently, I don’t look like I was born. I look like I was assembled by a group of prehistoric engineers using ropes, wooden rollers, and an alarming disregard for OSHA regulations.

I’m still trying to figure out whether that was a compliment or if the gentleman was suggesting that I should be designated a UNESCO World Heritage Site.

Either way, I laughed.

And I have to admit, it was a pretty creative way of telling a fella he’s built like a brick outhouse.

But little did I know that Montana was about to put my Stonehenge-inspired construction to the test.

From Golf Balls to Snowballs

On Friday, I was playing golf in 80-degree sunshine.

By the weekend, the temperatures had plummeted, snow was falling, and my little mountain cabin, Top Knot, was disappearing beneath a blanket of white.

As I write this, more than 20 inches of snow have fallen at Top Knot.

And it’s still coming down.

The fire pit is buried. The chairs are buried. The trees are bending beneath the weight of the snow. The mountains have gone from autumn colors to a full-blown winter wonderland.

All in a matter of days.

Welcome to Montana.

Where Mother Nature apparently wakes up some mornings, looks at the calendar, and says, “To hell with the seasons. Let’s see what these people are made of.”

And that got me thinking.

Not about Stonehenge. Although I’m probably going to be thinking about that comment for quite some time.

I started thinking about resilience.

Even Stonehenge Has Weathered a Few Storms

Stonehenge has stood for thousands of years.

Think about that.

Thousands of years of wind, rain, snow, heat, and whatever else Mother Nature has thrown at those massive stones.

They’re still standing.

Not perfectly. Some have fallen. Others have shifted. The structure has changed over time.

But it’s still there.

And I think there’s something worth remembering in that.

Resilience isn’t about coming through every storm unchanged. It’s about finding a way to keep standing, even when the storm changes you.

We all experience our own versions of Montana weather.

One day, life is 80 degrees and sunshine. Everything seems to be going our way. The fairways are green, the skies are blue, and we’ve got a pretty good idea where our next shot is going to land.

Then, seemingly overnight, we’re standing in two feet of snow wondering what in the hell just happened.

A diagnosis.

A relationship that falls apart.

The loss of someone we love.

A career setback.

Financial hardship.

Or simply the accumulated weight of responsibilities that never seems to let up.

Life has a way of changing the forecast without asking our permission.

And sometimes, the storms last a whole lot longer than we anticipated.

Standing Strong Doesn’t Mean Standing Alone

Here’s where I think we sometimes get resilience wrong.

We celebrate the people who stand tall through adversity. We admire their toughness. Their grit. Their determination.

And those are admirable qualities.

But sometimes we forget that even the strongest structures need support.

Those massive stones at Stonehenge weren’t put into place by one person. It took people working together, ingenuity, effort, and a whole lot of determination.

And that’s a pretty good lesson for the rest of us.

Being resilient doesn’t mean you have to carry everything by yourself.

It means knowing when to dig in, when to adapt, when to lean on someone else, and sometimes when to simply admit that the load has gotten too heavy.

That’s a message I share in my Stand Through the Storm keynote.

We don’t build resilient people or organizations by expecting everyone to endure endless pressure without complaint.

We build resilience by creating connections, strengthening relationships, recognizing the weight others are carrying, and reminding people that asking for help isn’t weakness.

It’s wisdom.

Sometimes the strongest thing we can do is let someone else help us stand.

The Forecast Will Change Again

Eventually, the snow at Top Knot will stop falling.

The sun will come back out.

The snow will melt, the creek will run, and those chairs around the fire pit will emerge from their winter burial.

And before long, I’ll be sitting beside that fire again, looking out across the mountains and appreciating everything this beautiful, unpredictable place has to offer.

That’s the thing about storms.

They change the landscape. They test what we’ve built. Sometimes they leave a mess that takes a long time to clean up.

But they don’t get to write the rest of our story.

We do.

So wherever you find yourself today, whether you’re enjoying 80-degree sunshine or digging out from two feet of snow, remember what you’ve already made it through.

You’ve weathered storms before.

You’ve carried loads you once thought were impossible.

You’ve adapted, adjusted, stumbled, recovered, and kept moving forward.

Give yourself some credit for that.

And when the next storm rolls in, remember that you don’t have to face it alone.

As for me?

I’m going to keep doing my best to stand through whatever Montana — or life — decides to throw my way.

After all, apparently I was built by the same people who constructed Stonehenge.

Although, if another 20 inches of snow falls, I may need a team of archaeologists to dig my big ass out.

Watch your top knot…and I’ll watch mine.