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Solitude and Connection: How Do We Find Our Balance?

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For better or worse, I have spent roughly a third of my life in my own company.
Of course, you’ll say we all do that. What I mean is only my own company. My days have been filled with me pursuing my goals and doing whatever I felt would be productive.

One might call that lonely. At times it feels that way, but by and large those moments are fleeting. The hours are consumed by activity—striving toward physical, creative, or career goals. It is nice, however, to have someone to talk with about what you’re doing. Those people are usually our closest friends or family members. Finding someone who truly fits that bill has always been difficult for me. My family maintained a great deal of privacy, and that is still our way.

It may sound like a contradiction for someone who has spent so much of his life in public roles—as an actor, entertainer, or public servant—but I have always tried to guide my steps with balance. Only a few people have ever brought me to the point of raising my voice, and they were almost always immediate family members or a long-term girlfriend who had become like family. Even then, I rarely initiated conflict. I never liked arguments; I saw them as a waste of energy that rarely helped accomplish the task at hand. Sometimes, though, the other person simply has a “mad on” and needs to get it out. In those moments you can either absorb it quietly or respond in kind.

As an actor I’ve learned that conflict lies at the heart of drama. It’s what keeps audiences glued to show after show and movie after movie. I know how to portray theatrical conflict convincingly—because I’m paid to do exactly that. In real life, however, my walk is smoother when I engage with others in a civil and logical manner.

According to my beliefs, we pass through this life only once. I would rather spend it making strides toward goals that benefit both myself and the world around me. I want to uplift others, to keep learning and growing, and to create artistic work that moves people. These things give me balance. Everyday tasks can still tilt me off center—they often feel tedious—but they are necessary steps toward the larger goals.

Is life better without solitude? I would say those blessed with a strong family are tremendously fortunate, even when that blessing brings intense moments of fellowship (and friction).

Would I trade what I have for it? There are days I miss the large, noisy family that once surrounded me. As time passes and more of us are gone than remain, the daily walk grows a bit harder. The void is filled with friends, but even those relationships can thin with the years.

My advice is simple: start early. Build a strong immediate family that cares for one another. Strengthen ties to blood relatives and keep them close. Cultivate lasting friendships—remember that to have a friend, you must be one. Even those of us who walk with God as our constant companion benefit from having people we can reach out and touch. They are not avatars on social media. They are flesh-and-blood souls who share the journey.

Find more of Randall’s writings in his books in our Store.

When Life Tries to Steal Your Blessings – Strive

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Throughout my life, I have experienced both moments of extreme happiness and the depths of depression. Circumstances, relationships, and sometimes our own decisions can push us to either end of that spectrum.

Early in life, I often looked to others to make me happy. Not that I couldn’t find happiness on my own, but having someone else to focus on seemed to make it much easier. Their worlds, thoughts, and hopes gave me a welcome change and the chance to experience new things, which brought a sense of happiness. This pattern, however, also created codependency that would devastate me whenever those relationships ended, swinging me to the opposite end of the spectrum.

After working through those periods and realizing this was not a healthy way to live, I began developing my own internal “happiness meter.” It allowed me to find simple pleasures in the things I enjoyed—without everything revolving around other people.

In many ways, my blessings became the places, the activities, and the memory-making opportunities. The companions were still important, but they took on a different role. They were no longer the center of what I was doing; instead, they were fellow enthusiasts who simply enjoyed the same activities, places, or events.

Happiness can be found in simple things. It doesn’t require big, elaborate trips—the kind I once thought were necessary. Real joy often comes from completing a project, improving one’s health by reaching a new physical goal, learning new skills, or discovering fresh opportunities to explore.

If you know me, you know I love fiddling. It has been at the close to the center of my life since I was about eight years old. I love hearing and watching other players, being around fellow musicians, and most of all, performing with my fiddle. Sharing my time and energy to uplift the tradition brings me great happiness—whether at a regional fiddle contest, a concert, or special events like the Grand Master Fiddler Championship, now held at the theater at The Factory in Franklin, Tennessee in September, which I have hosted for 18 years, or judging at the Smithville Jamboree in Smithville, Tennessee.

Though the hours can be draining, exhilaration always comes from the activities, the music, and the people.

No matter what your joys in life may be, the old devil can try to steal the very blessings that bring you uplift.

Recently, while headed to Smithville, my reliable old Explorer decided it wasn’t going to make the trip—about halfway there. On a holiday weekend, I found myself sitting on the side of the highway in over 100-degree heat, trying to figure out what to do next. After about 40 minutes, I arranged for a wrecker service from back home to tow the vehicle to a local garage. A good friend then dropped everything to drive me to the airport so I could rent a car. After loading my belongings into the rental, I went home, changed out of my sweat-drenched clothes, and got back on the road. I arrived only five hours later than I had originally planned.

The event itself went beautifully; we managed to work around the heat and sporadic rain. Toward the end of the second day, however, another challenge appeared: an unexpected storm drenched my merchandise table and ruined a significant amount of inventory.

It would have been easy for the breakdown, the anticipated costs of the tow and repairs, and the loss of merchandise to leave me angry, sad, frustrated, and short-tempered with everyone around me. But that didn’t happen. I stayed in my place of blessing and refused to let the old devil steal my joy, no matter what he sent my way.

You can control where your mind goes and how you react. This trip could have been miserable, but I chose to make it anything but. I shared wonderful conversations with old friends, heard amazing music, and watched talented dancers. I even had an interesting conversation with the tow truck driver during the roughly hour-long trip back home.

Making the best of a bad situation can keep your blessings intact and thwart the enemy’s attempts to steal them. I wish that for you always.

Read more of Randall’s writings in his books at the Store .

Creating Positive Momentum: Small Steps, Lasting Change

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Sometimes we work toward making positive momentum in our lives. We’ve all been there. These steps can take many forms, and they rarely arrive with fanfare or a dramatic soundtrack. More often they begin quietly — a decision, a small action, or simply the recognition that something needs to shift.

For some, momentum looks like a career move. I haven’t had one of those in many years, at least not in the traditional sense. Public service in political office might qualify, but even then the distinction matters. At the state or national level, it can become a genuine career with resources and staff. At the local level, however, there’s very little money involved, so I’ve never viewed it that way. It’s service, not a stepping stone.

For others, momentum takes the shape of an entrepreneurial adventure — launching a product, starting a business, or bringing an idea into the world. In my case, that has meant publishing my new book, Frankly Speaking: Thoughts on This and That. After years of notes, reflections, and scattered drafts, seeing it finally take shape felt like building real forward energy.

Sometimes the push is more domestic. It might be tackling that long-undone project around the house — the one that has quietly become part of the scenery. For me, it’s the growing piles that gather dust: materials waiting to be organized into scrapbooks, old mail that needs shredding, work papers that still require filing, and the miscellaneous accumulation of years that somehow never quite gets addressed. Each time I chip away at one small corner of it, I feel the satisfying click of momentum.

And then there are the deeply personal changes — the ones that happen inside our own skin. Losing weight. Establishing a better exercise routine. Stopping an annoying habit. Personally, I don’t think I need to lose weight, though I know I can always improve my life with more consistent exercise (which tends to take care of the weight question anyway). As for annoying habits, I believe I’ve cast most of them into the dust bin of the past. I pray regularly to keep them there, and so far that discipline has served me well.

The question that lingers for all of us is this: What is the best approach to create and maintain momentum once we decide to move forward?

From what I’ve observed in my own life and in the lives of people around me, momentum rarely comes from grand, sweeping resolutions. It comes from something steadier and more humble: choosing a direction and then protecting the small, daily actions that keep you facing that way.

First, clarity matters. It helps to name the thing you actually want — not the vague “I should get organized” or “I should exercise more,” but something specific enough to act on. “I will spend fifteen minutes each morning sorting one pile of papers.” “I will walk three times this week.” “I will write one page of the book every weekday.” Specificity turns intention into a plan.

Second, start ridiculously small. The bigger the leap we try to make, the more likely we are to stall. Tiny steps build confidence and reduce the friction that kills momentum before it begins. A single drawer cleaned out. One paragraph written. One evening without the old habit. These micro-victories accumulate and, more importantly, they train us to trust ourselves again.

Third, protect the chain. Momentum loves consistency more than intensity. Missing one day is usually harmless; missing two or three in a row is where the slide begins. Simple tools help here — a visible calendar where you mark each successful day, a friend you check in with, or even a quiet evening reflection where you ask, “Did I move forward today, even a little?”

Fourth, celebrate honestly but lightly. Acknowledge the progress without turning it into a production. A quiet “That felt good” or a small reward that doesn’t undo the effort (a favorite tea instead of a celebratory dessert, perhaps) keeps the emotional energy positive without creating new problems.

Finally, stay compassionate with yourself when progress slows. Life has a way of interrupting even the best-laid plans. The difference between people who maintain long-term momentum and those who don’t often isn’t talent or willpower — it’s the willingness to begin again without self-scolding. Dust yourself off, remember why you started, and take the next small step.

Whether your current momentum is aimed at a career shift, a creative project like a book, clearing out the physical or mental clutter at home, or simply becoming a healthier version of yourself, the principle remains the same: direction plus small, consistent action eventually creates real movement.

The piles in my study are smaller than they were last month. Pages of the next writing project are slowly accumulating. And each small win reminds me that positive momentum isn’t about transforming overnight. It’s about refusing to stay stuck — and choosing, day after day, to move forward just a little more than yesterday.

What about you? What small step could you take this week that would create a bit of positive momentum in your own life? Sometimes the best columns are the ones that leave us both thinking and acting.

Read more of Randall’s work in his books in the Store or on Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/stores/Randall-Franks/author/B00K9XIDN4

What’s Next? A Question Fuels a Lifetime of Achievement

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I can still remember standing in the doorway of the kitchen as a young boy, watching my mother tackle one business project after another from the kitchen table which served as he desk. She moved with purpose and quiet intensity—papers spread across the table, phone pressed to her ear, always thinking several steps ahead. The moment she completed one task, she would barely pause before saying with renewed energy, “What’s Next?”

In many respects, that simple question has shaped my entire life and career. I finish one task, complete one project, or reach a significant goal, then almost immediately refocus my attention on whatever challenge or opportunity lies ahead.

By moving steadily from endeavor to endeavor while always keeping our eyes fixed forward, we can achieve far more than we ever thought possible. Success becomes less a final destination and more a series of stepping stones leading to something greater.

Many people, however, choose to rest upon the completion of their objectives. They spend days, weeks, or even longer looking back, reliving and recounting their victories. Celebration and gratitude are healthy and necessary—but only if they remain a moment, not a lifestyle. It’s remarkably easy to let past successes quietly erode our forward momentum. We become emotionally attached to the ways we’ve always done things, much like a runner who keeps glancing back at the competitors instead of focusing on the finish line ahead. Markets evolve. Technology advances. Customer needs and expectations shift. Without the discipline to keep asking “What’s Next?”, it’s all too easy to become stagnant.

What’s Next?

The answer might be: I need to honestly re-evaluate why the latest project did not surpass the success of an earlier one. What lessons went unlearned? Where did complacency creep in? This kind of fearless reflection turns yesterday’s results into tomorrow’s fuel.

What’s Next?

The answer might be: I should chart a bold new path—one that brings us closer to achieving a goal we never even dared to imagine possible. One that stretches our capabilities and inspires everyone around us.

What’s Next?

The answer might be: I simply need to pause each evening and ask myself the same question my mother lived by, then take one small step in that direction.

God grants each of us the ability to imagine it, the will to strive toward it, and the hope to achieve it. The real question is whether we will have the courage to keep asking, even when the path feels uncertain.

I pray that your “it”—whatever goal or calling stirs in your heart right now—enlightens, emboldens, and uplifts the world, and that it gives fresh courage to all of us who continue to wonder, “What’s Next?”

Read more about Randall’s life in Encouragers I, II, and III.

Dirt Road Wisdom: The Gift of Grandparental Grace

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THIS COLUMN MARKS THE OUR 25TH ANNIVERSARY IN SOUTHERN STYLE

“Thank you for all the years of allowing me to share my thoughts with you!” Randall Franks

As I stumbled along the dirt road, I would occasionally reach up and slip my hand into Grandpa Jesse‘s. When an independent streak struck, I would pull it back, managing my steps all on my own—at least for a few feet—before repeating the process once again.
No matter what I did, I could look up into his face and see a smile beaming back at me. What an amazing gift is the special bond that grows between a loving grandparent and a grandchild.
They can give so much love, and many—like mine—had the desire to share a lifetime of experience. I thank God that mine gave me the insights at a young age to listen and learn.
I think one of the greatest lessons shared with me was how to handle yourself when you realize you’ve wronged someone. It could be as simple as a misunderstanding or as serious as a downright disagreement.
From their example, I saw that one should admit a mistake and apologize to move the relationship forward. If you’re the injured party, take the first step: express your concerns and give the other person an easy opportunity to make amends.
If they choose not to, then you’ve done all you can to mend the fences.
Unfortunately, folks aren’t always in the same place at the same time.
Although Christianity teaches us to forgive, that’s an area where I’ve seen loved ones and friends struggle throughout my life.
I struggle with it myself. Oftentimes, I fall back on hardened lessons passed down through generations, rooted in centuries of tribal or clan conflicts and feuds.
I’ve watched loving, caring people—who would give you the shirt off their back—get up on their hind legs and growl when a situation involved an ancestral enemy, an ostracized family member, or a former friend.
While I received these lessons through oral stories, I’ve worked to distance myself from carrying such disputes into my own life. Some even go back beyond written records. They do add color to the stories I share, but for me, the feuds are long past.
As time passes in my life, I find I have to work harder not to add to the list with my own experiences.
It would be easy to simply write someone off—as was often the practice—and have no more to do with them once they’ve done you wrong and won’t apologize or admit a mistake.
But unless continuing that relationship is destructive, I’m striving to avoid falling into the footsteps left by my mountain highland kin through the centuries. That’s not to say there might not be a situation that calls for their approach, but I don’t know if I’m up for a good sword fight, pistols at ten paces, or gathering the clan for feudin’ anytime in the near future.
So, I think the approaches mentioned earlier might be best for all concerned. Of course, the other person does have to be concerned. If they’re not, they probably shouldn’t be that important to your life anyway.

Read more about Randall’s experiences in Appalachia in his books such as A Mountain Pearl, and Seeing Faith. Visit www.RandallFranks.com/Store