Celebrate Small Victories Quotes

You celebrated the small victories, and you dreamed of the big ones to come.

Victor didn’t entirely understand my love for Rory, but he couldn’t disagree that Rory was probably the best raccoon corpse that anyone had ever loved. Rory’s tiny arms perpetually reached out as if to say, “OHMYGOD, YOU ARE MY FAVORITE. PERSON. EVER. PLEASE LET ME CHEW YOUR FACE OFF WITH MY LOVE.” Whenever I’d accomplished a particularly impossible goal (like remembering to refill my ADD meds even though I have ADD and was out of ADD meds) Rory was always there, eternally offering supportive high fives because he understood the value of celebrating the small victories.

Your progress as a runner is a frustratingly slow process of small gains. It’s a matter of inching up your mileage and your pace. It’s a matter of learning to celebrate the small gains as if they were Olympic victories. It means paying your dues on the road or the treadmill. It means searching for the limits of your body and demanding that your spirit not give up. It means making the most of what you have. It means making yourself an athlete one workout at a time.

I was in the fifth grade the first time I thought about turning thirty. My best friend Darcy and I came across a perpetual calendar in the back of the phone book, where you could look up any date in the future, and by using this little grid, determine what the day of the week would be. So we located our birthdays in the following year, mine in May and hers in September. I got Wednesday, a school night. She got a Friday. A small victory, but typical. Darcy was always the lucky one. Her skin tanned more quickly, her hair feathered more easily, and she didn't need braces. Her moonwalk was superior, as were her cart-wheels and her front handsprings (I couldn't handspring at all). She had a better sticker collection. More Michael Jackson pins. Forenze sweaters in turquoise, red, and peach (my mother allowed me none- said they were too trendy and expensive). And a pair of fifty-dollar Guess jeans with zippers at the ankles (ditto). Darcy had double-pierced ears and a sibling- even if it was just a brother, it was better than being an only child as I was. But at least I was a few months older and she would never quite catch up. That's when I decided to check out my thirtieth birthday- in a year so far away that it sounded like science fiction. It fell on a Sunday, which meant that my dashing husband and I would secure a responsible baby-sitter for our two (possibly three) children on that Saturday evening, dine at a fancy French restaurant with cloth napkins, and stay out past midnight, so technically we would be celebrating on my actual birthday. I would have just won a big case- somehow proven that an innocent man didn't do it. And my husband would toast me: "To Rachel, my beautiful wife, the mother of my chidren and the finest lawyer in Indy." I shared my fantasy with Darcy as we discovered that her thirtieth birthday fell on a Monday. Bummer for her. I watched her purse her lips as she processed this information. "You know, Rachel, who cares what day of the week we turn thirty?" she said, shrugging a smooth, olive shoulder. "We'll be old by then. Birthdays don't matter when you get that old." I thought of my parents, who were in their thirties, and their lackluster approach to their own birthdays. My dad had just given my mom a toaster for her birthday because ours broke the week before. The new one toasted four slices at a time instead of just two. It wasn't much of a gift. But my mom had seemed pleased enough with her new appliance; nowhere did I detect the disappointment that I felt when my Christmas stash didn't quite meet expectations. So Darcy was probably right. Fun stuff like birthdays wouldn't matter as much by the time we reached thirty. The next time I really thought about being thirty was our senior year in high school, when Darcy and I started watching ths show Thirty Something together. It wasn't our favorite- we preferred cheerful sit-coms like Who's the Boss? and Growing Pains- but we watched it anyway. My big problem with Thirty Something was the whiny characters and their depressing issues that they seemed to bring upon themselves. I remember thinking that they should grow up, suck it up. Stop pondering the meaning of life and start making grocery lists. That was back when I thought my teenage years were dragging and my twenties would surealy last forever. Then I reached my twenties. And the early twenties did seem to last forever. When I heard acquaintances a few years older lament the end of their youth, I felt smug, not yet in the danger zone myself. I had plenty of time..

In San Antonio the crowd was small because it was the same day as the huge local Fiesta celebration. A man stepped out of the crowd to tell me that he had read the book and the blog and felt very sorry for my husband. I told him that Victor was sitting right around the corner if he'd prefer to have him sign the book. He did, and as he left I think I saw him give my husband the victory sign, as if Victor was some sort of POW. In a way, I saw his point.

People used to think that learning to read evidenced human progress; they still celebrate the decline of illiteracy as a great victory; they condemn countries with a large proportion of illiterates; they think that reading is a road to freedom. All this is debatable, for the important thing is not to be able to read, but to understand what one reads, to reflect on and judge what one reads. Outside of that, reading has no meaning (and even destroys certain automatic qualities of memory and observation). But to talk about critical faculties and discernment is to talk about something far above primary education and to consider a very small minority. The vast majority of people, perhaps 90 percent, know how to read, but do not exercise their intelligence beyond this. They attribute authority and eminent value to the printed word, or, conversely, reject it altogether. As these people do not possess enough knowledge to reflect and discern, they believe—or disbelieve—in toto what they read. And as such people, moreover, will select the easiest, not the hardest, reading matter, they are precisely on the level at which the printed word can seize and convince them without opposition. They are perfectly adapted to propaganda.

I’ve come to realize that we’re never going to get it figured out. We’re not going to come to our senses and be the family I want us to be. We’re just going to be us. And that’s okay. Life is complicated, and family is even more complicated. I am learning to embrace it for what it is and not dwell on what it’s not. To love even the slightest bit of headway we make, to celebrate the small victories and not worry about the war. To laugh at the insanity that it is sometimes, instead of letting it drive me crazy.

It is important to pause to celebrate those victories, no matter how small,' she says, 'because that is what gives you courage to fight the really big battles, the ones you have to fight even though there's no chance of winning.' [Kay Drey on stopping 1 of 2 nuclear reactors from being built]

A lot of times it does feel exhausting. Because everything bad in society is about you, but when it comes to the good, nothing is for you. I feel like I’m not enough and too much, all at the same time. And then, other times, being black feels exhilarating—because every good thing that happens feels like a victory, even the small things. Because you’re constantly reminded that you’re an other, so you know whatever good happened in spite of. So there’s celebration, there’s some joy.

If we worship only when things are good, do we really believe God is who he is?

Have you failed today? If not, you might not be trying hard enough. Failure is a part of growth, a stepping stone towards success. In its own right it is a small victory and should be celebrated as such. So I ask you again, have you failed today?

This morning, the ocean called me back and I started my day seeking balance within the ceaselessly moving. Calm in the restless waters. Feet planted, knees bent, mind clear—I remain standing. Some days that’s good enough. Some days that’s fucking monumental. Today, I celebrate the small victories.

The Devil wants to hurt us, and if he can't take our lives, he will try to take our peace... I had to choose faith over fear... Joy is found in God and his good plans for me. Looking for the joy takes my focus off all the things that make me anxious. But it wasn't easy then, and it still takes work now.

Social networking technology allows us to spend our time engaged in a hypercompetitive struggle for attention, for victories in the currency of “likes.” People are given more occasions to be self-promoters, to embrace the characteristics of celebrity, to manage their own image, to Snapchat out their selfies in ways that they hope will impress and please the world. This technology creates a culture in which people turn into little brand managers, using Facebook, Twitter, text messages, and Instagram to create a falsely upbeat, slightly overexuberant, external self that can be famous first in a small sphere and then, with luck, in a large one. The manager of this self measures success by the flow of responses it gets. The social media maven spends his or her time creating a self-caricature, a much happier and more photogenic version of real life. People subtly start comparing themselves to other people’s highlight reels, and of course they feel inferior.

Globoforce worked with Cisco to use recognition to boost employee engagement by 5 percent, and with Intuit to achieve and sustain a double-digit increase in employee engagement over a large employee base that spans six countries. Hershey’s recognition approach helped increase employee satisfaction by 11 percent. And for LinkedIn, retention rates are nearly 10 percentage points higher for new hires who are recognized four or more times. Whether we’re leading a group or a member of the team, whether we’re working in a formal or informal recognition program, it is our responsibility to say to the people who work alongside us: “We’ve got to stop and celebrate one another and our victories, no matter how small. Yes, there’s more work to be done, and things could go sideways in an hour, but that will never take away from the fact that we need to celebrate an accomplishment right now.

If she believed in God, it was in one who functioned something like Louise in this moment: rooting for her charges from afar, mourning alongside them when they were rejected, celebrating every small victory that came their way. She noticed the lonely ones, the ones at the edge of the crowd; she felt in her heart a sort of wild affection for them, wanted to go to them, to stand next to them and pull them tightly to her side; and yet she knew that to intervene in this way would disrupt something sacred that - at twelve and thirteen and fourteen years old - they were learning about themselves and the world. And this, too, was how she thought of God.

And then, other times, being Black feels exhilarating—because every good thing that happens feels like a victory, even the small things. Because you’re constantly reminded that you’re an other, so you know whatever good happened in spite of. So there’s celebration, there’s joy.” I paused, just to think. It felt so complicated. I pushed myself to find more, in the deeper parts, hidden in the folds of my spirit—the secrets. “And emptiness is there too—a different kind from what you described, though. A need for . . . validation, maybe to be seen, approved of, to matter as an individual, not just a monolith. And a desire to know that if I do follow all the rules, that I get the promise on the other side, just like anyone else. And by anyone else, I mean anyone else who is white.

Much he learned from her red, smart mouth. Much he learned from her tender supple hand. Him, who was, regarding love, still a boy and had a tendency to plunge blindly and insatiably into lust like into a bottomless pit, him she taught, thoroughly starting with the basics, about that school of thought which teaches that pleasure cannot be taken without giving pleasure, and that every gesture, every caress, every touch, every look, every spot of the body, however small it was, had its secret, which would bring happiness to those who know about it and unleash it. She taught him, that lovers must not part from one another after celebrating love, without one admiring the other, without being just as defeated as they have been victorious, so that with none of them should start feeling fed up or bored and get that evil feeling of having abused or having been abused. Wonderful hours he spent with the beautiful and smart artist, became her student, her lover, her friend.

which did not touch his heart. He was not in Kamaswami's house for long, when he already took part in his landlords business. But daily, at the hour appointed by her, he visited beautiful Kamala, wearing pretty clothes, fine shoes, and soon he brought her gifts as well. Much he learned from her red, smart mouth. Much he learned from her tender, supple hand. Him, who was, regarding love, still a boy and had a tendency to plunge blindly and insatiably into lust like into a bottomless pit, him she taught, thoroughly starting with the basics, about that school of thought which teaches that pleasure cannot be taken without giving pleasure, and that every gesture, every caress, every touch, every look, every spot of the body, however small it was, had its secret, which would bring happiness to those who know about it and unleash it. She taught him, that lovers must not part from one another after celebrating love, without one admiring the other, without being just as defeated as they have been victorious, so that with none of them should start feeling fed up or bored and get that evil feeling of having abused or having been abused. Wonderful hours he spent with the beautiful and smart artist, became her student, her lover, her friend. Here with Kamala was the worth and purpose of his present life, nit with the business of

O that today you would hearken to his voice! —Psalm 95:7 (RSV) MARIA, INSPIRATION BEHIND HOLY ANGELS HOME Maria was nine in 1965 when I first wrote about her, a bright, little girl with an impish smile. Born hydrocephalic, without legs, a “vegetable” who could not survive, she’d dumbfounded experts and become the inspiration behind a home for infants with multiple handicaps. Now I was back at Holy Angels in North Carolina to celebrate Maria’s fiftieth birthday. I had to trot to keep up with Maria’s motorized wheelchair through a maze of new buildings, home now for adults as well as infants. At each stop, Maria introduced me to staff and volunteers who simply exuded joy. And yet the people they were caring for had such cruel limitations! How could everyone seem so happy, I asked, working day after day with people who’ll never speak, never hold a spoon, never sit up alone? “None of us would be happy,” Maria said, “if we looked way off into the future like that.” Here, she explained, they looked for what God was doing in each life, just that one day. “That’s where God is for all of us, you know. Just in what’s happening right now.” How intently one would learn to look, I thought, to spot the little victories. In my life too…. What if I memorized just the first stanza of Millay’s “Renascence”? What if I understood just one more function on my iPhone? What if just one morning I didn’t comment about my husband’s snoring? “Thank you, Maria,” I said as we hugged good-bye, “for showing me the God of the little victories.” Through what small victory, Father, will You show me Yourself today? —Elizabeth Sherrill Digging Deeper: Ps 118:24; Mt 6:34

they would sit up long after the children had gone to bed and chew the fat together, catching each other up on their separate days. Even though they’d only met one or two of each other’s colleagues, they both felt as if they knew them all intimately. No detail was spared as they discussed their problems and tried to help each other solve them, commiserating when things went wrong and celebrating their successes. They delighted in hating each other’s enemies and toasting each other’s small victories. They could boast to each other about their triumphs at work in a way they couldn’t and wouldn’t to colleagues and friends. How she still missed that togetherness. Nick would have been able to help her see what she wanted from the new life she had chosen. Their marriage had been a gift.

A writers life is, in a nutshell, arduous. The journey, however, wholly fulfilling. Take time to celebrate life. To embrace love. To relish those small victories for they are indeed rare for a storyteller. To wholeheartedly pursue your happiness unapologetically. In the end, both you and your literature, in an unbroken rhythm, will be seamlessly integrated.

Celebrate every small victory in life. You never know when they’d come around again.

If you absolutely have to work on long-term projects, try to dedicate one day a week (or every two weeks) to small victories that generate enthusiasm. Small victories let you celebrate and release good news. And you want a steady stream of good news. When there’s something new to announce every two weeks, you energize your team and give your customers something to be excited about.

I've noticed that when I tell my story, the shame I feel is gone; others, too, feel less ashamed. When you can't share it, the Enemy shames, telling you that you're the only one and something is wrong with you. But when you tell people, it's freeing. It's been so freeing for me to share my struggles and lead others to find help.

I have to trust that when I walk through any battle, it's for a greater purpose. And the other side is going to be so great that God chose to allow me to walk through it. God is good. Our stories are good. And if they ain't good yet, then we still can't give up, because our stories ain't over. And that is a win. Maybe you struggle with fearful thoughts. I'm here to tell you there can be victory. You don't have to live in fear. You don't have to let those fears control you. Find someone you can turn to for help. Root out those negative thoughts before they go deep. There can be joy on the other side of your fears. I know, because I've experienced it.

The gospel has never been about how bad we are. Maybe that's something you grew up learning from church or church people, or, maybe, like me, that's just how you perceived things. The gospel is always about how good God is. Always, always, always. So we shouldn't refrain from asking and seeking and knocking, because he loves us--each of us. And we can trust that what he gives us will be bread, even when it doesn't seem like it at the time. I'm not trying to say we don't need to change our lives. I think every one of us needs to change our lives. But I don't think very many of us can just will ourselves to change... We all have to rely on the goodness of God. He is good. He provides in amazing ways.

I have seen God move in my life in a million different ways, and I've read in Scripture another million ways he has moved and worked, and not one time have I ever seen him change anything for the worse. Never. He always changes things for the better. Always.

Don't let your worship be hindered by your life or what has happened, because your worship is not about you. You're not worshipping because you're worthy; you're worshipping because God's worthy.

Love is this insane cycle of one person breaking to make somebody else whole. Eventually your time comes to give away a really valuable, meaningful piece of yourself. If you surrender yourself to love, there are always going to be times when you're the one being made whole and also times when you're the one breaking. And that's the win. Breaking and being made whole in the name of love is always a win.

Look around—there are things in your life today that you dreamed about a month or even years ago. Take a moment to spot them & throw yourself a mini party for those wins, big & small. You’re living the dream—literally! Whether it's finally scoring that fancy coffee machine or crushing it at work, celebrate every victory. Those tiny triumphs stack up, turning your life into a highlight reel of awesome. So, give yourself a high-five and maybe even a happy dance—you’ve totally earned it!

Give your Self-esteem a power-up! Start by celebrating your victories, big and small. Stand tall, embrace your quirks, and remember: you're a limited edition, not a mass-produced copy. Surround yourself with positive vibes, kick negative self-talk to the curb, and don't forget to give yourself a pep talk in the mirror every now and then.

Startups celebrating small & big victory is super critical. New highs & new lows are very common but celebrating highs keep energy always high

And there followed him a great company of people, and of women, which also bewailed and lamented him. But Jesus turning unto them said, Daughters of Jerusalem, weep not for me…. —Luke 23:27–28 (KJV) GOOD FRIDAY: MORNING IS COMING My sister Cindy died three years ago, and I have yet to cry. I’ve cried about other tragedies, other deaths, but not about my sister. “Strange” does not begin to describe this behavior. Cindy was quadriplegic—had been for forty-five plus years. I could say she suffered (she did); I can say her death was a release (it was); I can even whip out the funeral clichés: “She was needed in heaven” (I wouldn’t know). But none of that explains my dry-eyed grieving. Late one night, my ever-patient wife said, “You know, you already mourned your sister.” I assumed Sandee wanted to start a large fight with a large insult. I hadn’t even begun to mourn. Then she added, “You mourned when she was alive. You celebrated who she had become, but you mourned the loss. You mourned that Cindy couldn’t walk. You mourned that she was in pain. It’s okay. You were a good brother. You are a good brother.” I realize this revelation was Sandee’s small gift to me. No one can tell you the right time to cry. Grief follows its own etiquette; death is rude and, lacking dignity, tramples timetables. I doubt Jesus’ gentle admonishment to the daughters of Jerusalem worked (Do you really think they stopped crying?), but now I get the point: It’s okay to mourn and it’s okay to finish mourning because morning is coming. Lord, Your death overcame sin but did not overcome sadness. Teach us how to grieve our losses as we celebrate Your victory. Amen. —Mark Collins Digging Deeper: Ps 30; Is 25:8

The church has an eschatological horizon and is, as proleptic manifestation of God's reign, the beachhead of the new creation, the vanguard of God's new world, and the sign of the dawning new age in the midst of the old (cf Beker 1980:313; 1984:41). At the same time it is precisely as these small and weak Pauline communities gather in worship to celebrate the victory already won and to pray for the coming of their Lord (“Marana tha !”), that they become aware of the terrible contradiction between what they believe on the one hand and what they empirically see and experience on the other, and also of the tension in which they live, the tension between the “already” and the “not yet.” “Christ the first fruits” has already risen from the dead (1 Cor 15:23) and the believers have been given the Spirit as “guarantee” of what is to come (2 Cor 1:22; 5:5), but there does not seem to be much apart from these “first fruits” and “pledge.” Like Abraham, they believe in hope against hope (Rom 4:18) and accept in faith the Spirit's witness that they are children and heirs of God and therefore fellow heirs with Christ—provided, says Paul, “we suffer with him in order that we may also be glorified with him” (Rom 8:17). God will triumph, notwithstanding our weakness and suffering, but also in the midst of and because of and through our weakness and suffering (cf Beker 1980:364f). Faith is able to bear the tension between the confession of God's ultimate triumph, and the empirical reality of this world, for it knows that “in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us” (Rom 8:37) and that “in everything God works for good with those who love him, who are called according to his purpose” (8:28). Nowhere has Paul portrayed this unbearable (and precisely for this reason bearable!) tension more profoundly than in 2 Corinthians 4:7-10: But we have this treasure in earthen vessels, to show that the transcendent power belongs to God and not to us. We are afflicted in every way, but not crushed; perplexed, but not driven to despair, persecuted, but not forsaken; struck down, but not destroyed; always carrying in the body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be manifested in our bodies. Our Christian life in this world thus involves an inescapable tension, oscillating between joy and agony. Whereas, on the one hand, suffering and weakness become all the more intolerable and our agonizing, because of the terrifying “not yet,” intensifies, we can, on the other hand, already “rejoice in our sufferings” (Rom 5:2). This means that our life in this world must be cruciform; Paul bears on his body “the marks of Jesus” (Gal 6:17; cf Col 1:24), he carries “in the body the death of Jesus,” and while he lives he is “always being given up to death for Jesus’ sake” (2 Cor 4:10f) (cf also Beker 1980:145f, 366f; 1984:120).

Your past success and victories, small or large, can renew your resolve to persevere if you are willing to lean on them.

Small wins and major victories are important because they encourage and inspire you to keep your faith and stay the course even when everything around you seems to be falling apart.

How will you know when you have fully recovered? When your body has had enough rest and nourishment that your energy is back and chronic fatigue is not an issue anymore. When your fearful thoughts (which may continue to creep in) don’t send you into the anxious cycle, and you can brush them off knowing that your past has given you enough information that the thing you fear most will not come true. This is just another false alarm. When you stop giving attention to those false alarms, then the many faces of anxiety will recede. When you begin to stop just THINKING positive, thinking that this alone will turn things around. Action is the main element that will turn your anxiety disorder around, in my struggles I was the most anxious positive person ever, but I kept telling myself lies such as things are getting better, things are getting better...THINGS ARE NOT GETTING BETTER, telling yourself the truth that things are not ok and this is not all there is to life, will get you to take massive action and celebrate the smallest victories. When you start taking responsibility for your anxiety disorder. Certain factors such as your childhood environment may actually be a reason for your anxiety disorder that you are experiencing right now, but in the end when you begin to take responsibility for your issues you instantly stop playing the blame game and stop being the victim. Once you take the power back into your own hands, you will begin to recognize that you ALWAYS have a choice in the matter, it just takes time to recondition yourself until desensitization begins. When your thoughts, emotions and physical body are in sync. It may seem that at the moment your thoughts are running out of control, you’re emotionally unstable and you may feel completely fatigued or scared to partake in a daily exercise routine because of fear due to your heart. Once these three things are aligned and the daily struggle to have clear thoughts, to try so hard to be upbeat and the fear of exercising is gone, days feel enjoyable and easy for you again. No more fight or flight out of the blue and no more sweating the small stuff.

Approaching the line is the first victory of battle, shei’tani. Learn to celebrate your small braveries. They light the way to greater courage.

As the Allies liberated towns and cities from Nazi control, Black troops saw white Southern soldiers raise the Confederate flag alongside or instead of the U.S. flag to celebrate their victory. Seeing a symbol of American slavery and racism flying above Normandy, Naples, Rome, Berlin, and dozens of small European villages made it clear that too many white troops did not intend to see freedom and democracy extend back across the Atlantic.

I once shot him a one-line email after we got a commitment from a new Well member because, okay, I get excited sometimes. But instead of patting me on the back, Ross chastised me for being the kind of CEO who gets emotionally attached to small victories. “You’re celebrating the present tense. That’s what EVERYONE else needs to do. Their job is the NOW. Your job is TOMORROW…If you decide you want to be CEO, this is what it has to feel like.

As the year draws to a close, a sense of anticipation mingles with reflection. We stand at the threshold of a new chapter, ready to bid farewell to the familiar & embrace the unknown. In this transitional month, it’s essential to cultivate a healthy, energized & determined attitude, setting the stage for a remarkable finish to 2023 & a vibrant beginning to 2024. Darling listen – I want you to use this new month to do & say all the things that you’ve been putting off. The perfect time to say & do those things that matters is now. I also wish & hope that instead of focusing on what you haven’t achieved, you focus on the milestones you’ve crossed, the growth you’ve experienced & the resilience you’ve demonstrated. Let you celebrate your victories (both big and small) & carry the lessons of your setbacks into the new year. Sweetheart, December, a month of festivities, of togetherness, celebrations, of spreading cheers & goodwill, is the perfect time to cherish all the moments spent with loved ones, the memories created & the lessons learned. Let this month bring you the breakthrough you’ve been waiting for & a pie so big that you’ll need a truck to carry it home… Cheers to a season of success & sweet treats!

Small wins lead to big victories! Let's celebrate each milestone on our journey to success.

There are no angsty, angry diatribes blaming parents or women or men or society. There are only epic tales of adventure and discovery, celebrations of life and nature and all it has to offer, and above all the idea that you are in control of your life, that what you think and feel matters, and that you can make a difference on a large scale and small . . . and sometimes those small victories are the greatest ones of all.

It will be hard. You will not be perfect. Don’t even try to be perfect. No one is judging, no one is keeping score, and there are no penalties for admitting that this is hard, you are struggling, and you need help. Be patient with yourself, because real change takes time. Be kind to yourself, and celebrate even the smallest of victories, because a series of small victories is all it takes to change your life.

But that’s the nice thing about lawyers: as long as you’re paying them, they’re usually good with whatever terms go along with it. Compartmentalization is their job. It’s how they represent people who are guilty, how they file long motions they know are unlikely to be successful, how they can patiently keep secrets that they’d otherwise love to be able to share. Harder was nearly twenty years into his legal career when he was first approached. Though he often worked on celebrity cases they tended to be for routine matters, not exciting criminal proceedings or blockbuster cases, and when you’re retained to enforce rights of privacy and publicity on behalf of your clients, it tends to follow that they don’t want you grandstanding in the media on their behalf, building a profile as you work for them. His last appearance in the New York Times had been in 2001, about a case for a client who had been let go from an ad firm almost immediately after she left her new job to join it. Harder won two months’ back pay. It’s not exactly the kind of victory that marked the career of lawyers like Marty Singer, whom Harder had once worked for, and whom the Times had called the “Guard Dog to the Stars.” A lawyer who had publicly fought cases over celebrity sex tapes, who tangled with Gawker once on behalf of Rebecca Gayheart and the actor Eric Dane when their tape had run on Gawker and managed to eke out a small settlement, without an admission of guilt. So why not hire Singer? Because Peter Thiel and Mr. A didn’t want someone who was content to settle, or another lawyer who knew the standard Hollywood saber-rattling routine. They wanted someone who would win. Now, in mid-2012, they appear to have that man.

We’ve got to stop and celebrate one another and our victories, no matter how small. Yes, there’s more work to be done, and things could go sideways in an hour, but that will never take away from the fact that we need to celebrate an accomplishment right now.

Aim high, swing for the bleachers, but celebrate the small victories.

A way to appreciate the daily grind of work is to reframe our job as a daily opportunity to define and express ourselves; to grow in failure and success, and to learn to celebrate equally the small and great victories.

A vision must be credible. Since the vision caster is probably you, the church must trust you and its other leaders. The congregation's experience with its leadership helps them have the confidence necessary to follow the leaders' direction. As a leader, you have a “credibility tank.” Every time you have a success, you add to that tank. As you add to the credibility tank, you make it possible to cast an even larger vision. On the other hand, each time you fail, your tank is drained. Then you have to restore that credibility before pressing on to a new task. Build your credibility by casting a progressively larger vision. Begin with small victories. Celebrate what God has done through your people. Whenever possible, throw a party at church to help your people see that growth is occurring and lives are being transformed. Then move to bigger victories!

For the time being, you are your passion. You are going to invest in yourself. You are going to make it a point to work harder at whatever it is you're doing. You're going to celebrate your victories, no matter how small. If you do something well, you're going to compliment yourself for it. You're going to set goals. You're going to verbalize -and share- your plans. You're going to hold yourself accountable to those goals and plans. You're going to separate yourself from negative people who suck energy from you. You're going to surround yourself with people who are positive and have your best interest in mind. You're going to be healthier.

If she believed in a God, it was in one who functioned something like Louise in this moment: rooting for her charges from afar, mourning alongside them when they were rejected, celebrating every small victory that came their way. She noticed the lonely ones, the ones at the edge of the crowd; she felt in her heart a sort of wild affection for them, wanted to go to them, to stand next to them and pull them tightly to her side; and yet she also knew that to intervene in this way would disrupt something sacred that—at twelve and thirteen and fourteen years old—they were learning about themselves and the world. And this, too, was how she thought of God.

One new client isn’t something to celebrate.” He sets the phone back down on the table. When he looks up, I make sure he finds me frowning. “Yes, it is, Simon. You have to celebrate every victory, no matter how small it seems. You landed a client. You did that! That’s a great reason to order a round of milkshakes if I ever heard one.

What was life like, I wonder, when you needed no “invitations” to think about death, had no reasonable way to calculate your probable lifespan, when mortality could announce itself at any time, not by an app, but by a ruptured placenta during childbirth, the infection from a small cut celebrating a victory over your bloodstream, a grass fire blazing out of control in your village, tuberculosis cozying up to your lungs? As youth recedes farther and farther behind me, perhaps I’m getting closer to this more natural way of living. I still seek comfort in statistics, but there is always a part of me that knows—whether waking or dreaming—that death now walks in the same spaces I do, brushing against the hem of my skirt or touching the clothing of someone I love. I would no longer be shocked to find death standing stock still in the middle of my path. It could assert its presence at any time, in a swift stroke, as a sudden embolism, at the next doctor’s appointment. In the meantime: breathe in that fragrance of a child’s hair. Open your pores to the morning breeze. Study the slope of your beloved’s cheek. All of this may soon be gone.