Hi
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My son Sammy is 22 months old, and lately he's entered what I can only describe as "Spiderman mode."

Everything in our house that can be climbed will be climbed. Chairs. Stools. Those little kid-sized chairs. The rectangular stainless-steel trash can. Anything a goat or small child could use to gain altitude, Sammy is scaling it with the focus of a Green Beret on a mountain warfare exercise.

So we've been running what amounts to a daily childproofing operation. Stephanie and I move furniture like chess pieces. We stack chairs on tables. We've relocated anything climbable to higher ground—which, of course, only creates new climbing challenges for our determined little commando.

Here's what struck me the other day: Sammy doesn't see obstacles. He sees opportunities. He's not discouraged by the fact that we keep moving the chairs. He's studying the new layout, looking for the next route up.

The Heights We're All Reaching For

The Christmas season just ended. New Year's planning season too. My gym is packed right now with people who are ready to "get in shape"—whatever that means.

I don't say that cynically. I say it because I've been thinking about what it actually means to reach the heights we're aiming for. In fitness. In finances. In life.

We set these big goals—retire with dignity, build a legacy for our kids, give generously, live with purpose—but we don't always know what "shape" those goals need to take. We just know we want to climb higher.

Sammy doesn't have a detailed plan for what he'll do when he reaches the kitchen counter. He just knows he wants to get there. There's something pure about that. Something worth paying attention to.

First Year Lessons (The Valuable Kind)

I've been reflecting on my first full year running Exponential Advisors. Tightening up systems. Reviewing lessons learned. Looking hard at what worked and what didn't.

If I'm being honest—and I try to be with you—business has been slower than I hoped. Prospects not converting. Others delaying. The financial stress hasn't been terrible, but it's been real.

And yet.

I've had high-net-worth prospects developing relationships with me. Family stepped up with financial support to keep the boys in private school and keep this dream alive. I refinanced the house and car loans. I started an Army Values video series I'm genuinely proud of.

The high points and low points exist in the same season. That's the reality of building something.

Just like Sammy, I've had to study the new layout. Find the next route up. Keep climbing even when someone keeps moving the chairs.

The Unexpected Teachers

Speaking of lessons—I've been learning from some unexpected places lately.

There's a writer in London named Katie Skelton who runs a company called Little Green Duck. She writes daily emails (I mean every single day), and they're good. Personal. Salesy in the best way—the kind of salesy that makes you feel like you're getting something, not being sold something.

In one of her recent emails, she said her family "wangs" recyclable materials into the plastic bins. Just... wangs them in there.

I haven't been able to get that word out of my head all week.

There's something about finding inspiration in small, unexpected places. A British word for tossing recyclables. A toddler scaling a trash can. A gym crowded with hopeful people in January.

These aren't the grand lessons we expect. But they're often the ones that stick.

What Family Actually Means

My in-laws were in town over the holidays. And here's something I don't say lightly: it was helpful.

Not just "fine." Not just "survivable." Actually helpful. They freed me up to think about my business, work on my business, not just in it. They gave me space to breathe while Stephanie and I weren't running ragged on childcare.

My parents came over too. And there was no drama.

If you've got complicated family dynamics—and who doesn't—you know what a gift that is. I found myself thinking: Wow. This is what it's supposed to feel like.

Spending time with family is underrated in American society. We optimize for productivity and hustle and independence. But the people who show up, who help without being asked, who create peace instead of drama—that's wealth you can't put on a balance sheet.

The Stewardship Question

I've been reading a lot lately. The Progress Paradox. A book on asking better questions. Something on intermittent fasting by a laid-back health influencer (yes, that's a genre now).

But the question I keep coming back to isn't from any book. It's this:

What are we climbing toward?

Sammy climbs because that's what his 22-month-old soul was made to do. He doesn't question it. He doesn't need a five-year plan. He sees height and moves toward it.

Most of us can't operate that purely. We have responsibilities. Mortgages. Kids' tuition. Retirement accounts that need tending. We need plans and systems and sometimes, yes, financial advisors who understand our world.

But underneath all the strategy, I think the question remains: What are you climbing toward?

Is it just more? Higher numbers on a screen? A retirement date that keeps moving?

Or is it something that matters — legacy, generosity, purpose, family, faith?

The Other Kind of Climbing

There's a different kind of reaching I've been doing lately. Quieter. Less about strategy.

I've been asking—in prayer, in silence, in those moments before sleep—whether the heights I'm chasing are the heights I'm actually called to.

Sometimes the answer is uncomfortable.

How much is enough? What do I do when I reach the mountain vista? As I pray, do I want the destination more than the experience of God with me on the journey?

The question might not be where are you climbing towards, but how are you climbing?

Your Turn

I don't know what heights you're reaching for this year. Maybe it's finally time to get your TSP optimized. Maybe it's figuring out how VA disability fits with your civilian income. Maybe it's just getting through the next deployment without your finances falling apart.

Whatever it is, I want you to know: you're not climbing alone.

If you want help thinking through the route—someone who understands military benefits, who gets the complexity of transitioning to civilian life, who's walked the chaplaincy and financial-planning roads — I'm here.

Hit reply and tell me: what's one height you're trying to reach this year?

I read every response.

Climbing with you,

Joshua Brooks, CFP®​
Founder, Exponential Advisors
Army Reserve Chaplain

P.S. — If you're ready to talk about your financial climb in detail, click here:https://calendly.com/josh-exponentialadvisors/30min. No pressure, no sales pitch—just two people looking at a map together.

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