Growing Beneath the Surface

On Monday, I shared that life has become a little quieter.

After two years of serving as President of Soroptimist International of Lincoln, I'm discovering that slowing down isn't as easy as I imagined.

I've become so accustomed to movement that quiet almost feels unfamiliar.

As I've been reading Wintering by Katherine May, one idea has stayed with me all week.

We spend much of our lives believing that every day should feel productive, joyful, energetic, and full of momentum. When it doesn't, we assume something is wrong with us.

But nature tells a very different story.

·       Nothing in nature blooms all year.

·       Forests have winters.

·       Fields lie fallow.

·       Bears hibernate.

·       Trees appear lifeless while quietly strengthening their roots beneath the frozen ground.

Yet somehow, we expect ourselves to keep producing, smiling, achieving, and giving without interruption.

Perhaps that's where so much of our exhaustion begins.

I've come to realize that winter is not the opposite of growth.

It is part of growth.

Some of my greatest lessons didn't arrive during seasons of success.

·       They came through disappointment.

• Grief.
• Uncertainty.
• Betrayal.
• Unexpected endings.
• Moments when I questioned what was next.

At the time, I wanted those seasons to end as quickly as possible.

Looking back, I can't erase them.

                                                But I also wouldn't.

Those winters taught me patience when I wanted certainty.

They taught me compassion when I had become too quick to judge.

One lesson surprised me more than the others.

• Winter taught me that I can protect my heart without hardening it.
• I can establish healthy boundaries without building walls.
• I can become wiser without becoming cynical (which may be one of adulthood's hardest lessons).

Those seasons also reminded me that my worth isn't measured by how busy I am or how much I accomplish.

Strength doesn't always look like pushing harder.

    Sometimes strength looks like resting.

        Sometimes courage looks like asking for help.

            Sometimes wisdom looks like waiting.

As a coach, I often meet people who believe they've somehow fallen behind because they're in a difficult season.

They're comparing their winter to someone else's spring.

But that's never a fair comparison.

Everyone carries unseen winters.  

    The leader you admire. 

        The friend who always seems positive.

            The business owner who appears successful.

                The neighbor who looks like they have everything together.

None of us are exempt from seasons of loss, transition, doubt, or quiet rebuilding.

Winter has a purpose.

It slows us down long enough to notice what really matters.

And perhaps that's its greatest gift.

Coffee Conversation

Before we finish our coffee together, can I leave you with one question?

What season are you trying to rush through because it feels uncomfortable?

Don't answer it too quickly.

Sit with it.  

Finish your coffee.

Sometimes the question is doing work inside us long before we discover the answer.

Spring always comes.

But when it does, it arrives because winter first did its work.

Until next time, keep leading with strength and living with purpose.

-srt

#ThursdayThoughts #Wintering #Leadership #Growth #LiveWithPurpose #ReaCoachingandConsulting