Years ago, when model railroading was one of my favorite hobbies, I met a remarkably talented artist and craftsman. His model railroad was magnificent.
One day, he invited me over to work on his railroad. I declined. I had grant proposals to write.
I’d left pharmacy and was developing another career, this time in grant writing. I’d attended webinars, studied the profession, and completed a certification program in writing successful grant proposals through Indiana University’s Lilly Family School of Philanthropy. I was putting considerable time and effort into learning something new.
My friend wasn’t impressed.
“You’re so damn lucky!” he exclaimed. “It must be nice to have it all handed to you.”
I managed to remain calm.
“I work hard to create my luck,” I replied.
What I was thinking was considerably less diplomatic.
That conversation has stayed with me, not because I resented his success as a model railroader. Quite the contrary. I admired his craftsmanship enormously. What bothered me was his assumption that whatever I had accomplished had somehow come easily.
Luck’s an interesting word.
I’ve been called lucky for having a comfortable home, for enjoying a good life, and for being able to pursue my interests. And I am fortunate. I have much to be grateful for. But there’s a difference between appreciating good fortune and assuming that someone’s circumstances are entirely the result of chance.
Over the years, I’ve known friends, colleagues, and acquaintances who have built businesses, pursued professional careers, written books, and developed ideas into successful enterprises. I’ve also known individuals who are still working toward their goals, sometimes with little recognition and considerable uncertainty.
We often see the accomplishment. What we don’t see are the hours of preparation, the disappointments, the difficult decisions, and the willingness to begin again.
Louis Pasteur is credited with an observation I’ve appreciated for years:
“Chance favors the prepared mind.”
I’ve experienced that throughout my life. When I left pharmacy for biomedical sales, I entered unfamiliar territory. Later, I pursued grant writing. Now I write books and prepare for opportunities to teach and speak. Each transition required learning new skills, accepting uncertainty, and occasionally wondering whether I’d made the right decision.
Opportunities didn’t always appear when I expected them. Sometimes they arrived through an unexpected conversation or an introduction to someone I hadn’t known before. But when those opportunities appeared, I was better prepared to recognize them because of the work I’d already done.
Of course, preparation doesn’t guarantee success. Neither does hard work. Circumstances beyond our control can change the direction of a life, and not everyone begins with the same opportunities. Chance does play a role, sometimes a considerable one.
But I’ve discovered something else about the individuals whose accomplishments I admire.
Many of them are remarkably generous in recognizing others’ efforts.
They share their experiences, offer encouragement, and acknowledge the work someone is doing, even when the results remain uncertain. They understand that an unfinished manuscript, a fledgling business, or an unfamiliar career path may represent years of preparation and determination.
I’ve been fortunate to encounter such individuals. Their encouragement has meant more to me than they may realize.
And perhaps that’s the kind of good fortune worth remembering.
The next time someone tells me how lucky I am, I’ll probably smile and thank them. I have much to be grateful for, including opportunities I couldn’t possibly have anticipated.
But I’ll also remember the preparation, the decisions, the work, and the individuals who recognized my efforts along the way.
And when I encounter someone working toward a dream of their own, I hope I’ll recognize the effort behind it.
Even before the world calls them lucky.
