When I retired, I also resigned from several volunteer boards I had served on. This process was natural because I was moving from one state to another. The initial effect was quite pleasant. Within a relatively short period, I had fewer meetings taking up my time, which was a welcome change. However, it appears that the change wasn’t permanent. Somehow, I find myself with more and more meetings filling up my schedule.

I have no intention of living as a hermit. I like other people, and I enjoy getting to meet new people. I support many causes, and I gain a lot from getting together with others with similar interests and concerns. However, as I age, I have less patience for talking and more interest in doing. I still enjoy talking with others. There are friends with whom I enjoy connecting. Talking is the primary way that I connect with some of them. However, when it comes to an organization, there are a lot of times when talking gets in the way of accomplishing the group's goals.

One model that comes to mind when I think of the balance of talking and doing is a mission project that our Rapid City congregation undertook. A pine bark beetle infestation resulted in many dying trees in the Black Hills. The standing dead trees were very vulnerable to wildfire. Responsible landowners cleared dead trees and thinned the stands on their land to make their property less vulnerable to out-of-control fire. This created an oversupply of timber, which did not have commercial value. At the same time, out on the open prairie, especially on some of the Indian Reservations in South Dakota, there was a shortage of firewood. Electricity and propane are expensive, and families frequently install wood stoves for heat to decrease costs. Finding enough firewood, however, was a problem. Our group started with a single cut and split firewood delivery to an energy assistance program on a nearby Reservation. We borrowed a horse trailer to haul the wood and recruited a small group of volunteers to load and unload the firewood. That project led to other opportunities. Over the years, we added a couple of wood splitters, a few trailers, and more volunteers with pickup trucks. At the height of the program, we delivered nearly 100 cords of firewood to our partners each year.

The process was simple. We found a source of free wood from landowners who wanted it removed from their property. We got together and hauled the wood to the woodlot in our churchyard. Then, we had work days when we split the wood using power splitters. Some volunteers worked with chainsaws to cut the trees into stove length. Others ran the splitters. Others stacked the firewood. Then we would arrange deliveries to partners. When it was time for deliveries, we would gather to load trucks and trailers, caravan to our partners, unload and stack the firewood, and return home. Then, we would repeat the process.

We called ourselves the Woodchuck Society and said our rules were simple: no meetings and no budget. Dedicated volunteers planned work days and sent out notices. When we got together, we worked side by side. Volunteers stepped forward when we needed resources, such as fuel for chainsaws and splitters. We made it our practice to work with what we had. What wasn’t donated, we did without.

The project formed close bonds between people. Some years, we had a potluck picnic, and it was always a good time. However, the strength of the group was the value of working together.

However, there aren’t many examples of groups like that. I am currently serving on a volunteer board for an organization. I became involved after being recruited by other board members who got to know me because of an article I wrote that was published in an online newspaper. I was reluctant to get involved but was assured that the board only met four times a year and the time commitment was low.

However, the board has agreed to a planning retreat this spring that will take up most of a day. In preparation for the retreat, each board member is asked to schedule a one-hour meeting with the consultant leading the planning process. I have time for these extra meetings but am not eager about them. For the record, I was opposed to having a planning retreat in the first place, but I kept quiet and didn’t say anything, so I now feel obligated to participate in the process.

I’ve been through dozens of strategic planning processes. I’ve sat with groups as we created vision statements, set goals, planned strategies, and used a lot of newsprint. Rarely did those planning processes significantly affect the organizations' day-to-day operations. Show me a well-constructed strategic plan, and I will show you a document that will not be meaningful in five years. It probably will not be meaningful in one year.

The gap between planning and doing is significant. That doesn’t mean that organizations don’t need to plan. Setting goals and pursuing them is how things get done. However, strategic planning is a program, not a way of thinking. Many hours are invested in analyzing, but creative vision and leadership rarely emerge from planning programs. As an article published by the Harvard Business Review said, “Real strategic change requires inventing new categories, not rearranging old ones.”

I’m not expecting any breakthroughs from our planning process. We’ll check all the boxes, produce a few new statements, and maybe even develop a new slogan or two. However, the real work of change comes from thinking outside of the box and doing something different than what has been done before.

I am looking for a completely new direction for the organization. I hope for something I will be excited to work on and accomplish. I don’t expect that idea to come from a retreat. Chances are pretty good that the idea is something that is obvious but which we cannot see.

I’ve heard he story of how Edwin Land developed the Polaroid camera because his three-year-old daughter asked him why she couldn’t immediately see the picture of her he had just taken. The breakthrough came from a child’s question. I have a three-year-old grandson. Maybe my time would be better spent listening to him than attending a planning retreat. I’ll go to the retreat, but I pray I won’t forget to spend time with my grandson. Chances are the latter will be the most productive investment.