Lessons I Learned From Five Small Moments

Yesterday, I wrote about the first leader who truly cared about her employees—

not just about their work performance,

but about their

happiness,

growth,

and wholeness at work.

Today, I want to talk about what she actually taught me.

Through five moments that changed me.

I didn’t know they were lessons at the time.

I only know now.

Here they are:

A gift bag.

A funeral.

A lunch.

Feedback I didn’t want to hear.

And writing reports.

First: The Gift Bag

On my first day of work, she gave me a gift bag of office supplies.

Pens.

A notebook.

A notepad.

Simple things.

But what it said to me was this:

You are welcome here.

That was my first lesson.

Leadership starts with a welcome.

Second: The Funeral

When my mother died, she came to the funeral.

She came.

She drove two hours.

She showed up.

She stood beside me during one of the hardest moments of my life.

She was just there.

That taught me something I will never forget:

Leadership shows up when life hurts.

Third: The Lunch

On my work anniversary, she took me out to lunch.

Not just for a performance review.

Not just for goals.

Just lunch.

She asked how I was doing.

What was hard.

What I was learning.

What I enjoyed most.

What I wanted next.

She made space for my heart.

That taught me that leadership is about listening.

Fourth: The Feedback I Didn’t Want to Hear

This one was uncomfortable.

I had to provide trainings to an audience who were Deaf.

I was not fluent in ASL.

I was signing PSE—a mix of ASL vocabulary in English word order.

I was afraid.

So I asked if someone else could do the training.

Or if we could co-train.

She said no.

Not harshly.

Not unkindly.

No sharp tone.

No unkind facial expression.

A clear, soft no.

Then she said,

“You can do it.”

I was mad at her.

I was anxious—so anxious.

I complained to a coworker I trusted.

They said the same thing:

“You can do it.”

At the time, it felt like pressure.

Later, I learned it was belief.

After every training, she would ask,

“How did it go?”

“How was it for you?”

Because of her, I learned how to train.

Because of her, I fell in love with it.

Today, I love providing trainings.

And I am good at them.

She believed in me before I believed in myself.

Fifth: Writing Reports

I loved to write.

I still do.

I’ve always considered myself a storyteller.

So when I was asked to write a narrative about a client’s story for a grant, I was excited.

I wrote it in my own style.

From the heart. I sent it to her, feeling proud.

Then I saw the revisions.

So many revisions.

I was hurt.

I was mad.

She noticed.

And gently explained the why.

Funders weren’t looking for stories the way I wrote them.

They were looking for specific language.

Objectives.

Purpose.

Outcomes.

They wanted technical writing.

At first, that stung.

But then something shifted.

I researched technical writing.

I studied it.

I asked her if she would teach me how to write better.

She said yes.

With a smile.

She shared past narratives.

She walked me through them.

She practiced with me.

It took me years to learn how to write technically.

Years.

But that skill carried me forward.

When I later became an Executive Director,

I followed her steps.

Her methods.

Her standards.

I even asked her to review my work to make sure I was on the right track.

Listen—she was my mentor. I became a better writer because of her.

And I still love to write.

Period.

Writing is art.

What I Know Now

Those five moments taught me that leadership:

• Welcomes people to be their best selves

• Shows up during difficult times

• Makes space to listen

• Gives feedback with belief

• Teaches skills, not just expectations

I will never forget the leader who believed in me,

who stayed with me,

who took the time to teach me.

That is the kind of leader she was.

And that is the kind of leader I keep trying to be.

When I became a supervisor years later,

I gifted new employees a bag of office supplies—because I remembered how it made me feel.

I took them out for coffee on their work anniversaries—to have heart-to-heart conversations.

I gave feedback the way she gave it to me—rooted in belief.

A ripple.

Her legacy lives on.