Leading Through Changing Seasons--Taking the Dock Out
The dock is out. For those who follow me on social media, you will know that I often run to the dock in my town where I meet the sun #RISE but also immerse myself in nature. Lately, I have posted about showing up in all conditions and not taking it for granted. Today, I happened to run down right in the moment when the workers were removing it. I am aware the experience was meant to teach me about shifts in season and not anchoring to one space.
This particular dock is meaningful. Over the course of four years of a running streak, I have gone often to it through all types of life trials and triumphs. When I was at my most unbalanced, I clung to the glistening reflection of the sun off the water in numb hope that somehow the light would filter back into my soul, and I might revive.
It is at that dock where I finally fell to my knees in humble prayer to finally release my will and ask God to take my burdens from me. To lift my feet and guide my steps into His will for me because I was not cutting it on my own. And boy, has my life changed since that moment!
When the dock is out for this LENGTHY winter season, I will no longer have a physical space to kneel, stand in awe of the waves, the birds flying over head, the creak of the boards in rhythmic beat to my breathing patterns.
But I do have its memory and the hope for the thaw. And I will explore new spaces because I will be made to do so. The shift in seasons comes both physically and in life changes. As leaders, we learn to embrace the shifts. To root ourselves not in places but in moments, people, and our faith for renewal. To engage with the joys that come with a change of scenery and condition.
I have never learned these lessons more profoundly than in this season of my leadership where I have no dock to go to for work. There is no building. Only my home office. And I am grateful for the lesson to embrace the excavation of a new season.
Today, I was supposed to sub for a local elementary principal. He cancelled yesterday, and I find it not surprising at all that I was given the gift of watching my dock removed instead. Yet another reminder for me to allow the season to grow me, to release the location, and to explore this new season without looking back so much.
What might you be clinging to in your own leadership, and how can you embrace the metaphorical release of your own dock?
This particular dock is meaningful. Over the course of four years of a running streak, I have gone often to it through all types of life trials and triumphs. When I was at my most unbalanced, I clung to the glistening reflection of the sun off the water in numb hope that somehow the light would filter back into my soul, and I might revive.
It is at that dock where I finally fell to my knees in humble prayer to finally release my will and ask God to take my burdens from me. To lift my feet and guide my steps into His will for me because I was not cutting it on my own. And boy, has my life changed since that moment!
When the dock is out for this LENGTHY winter season, I will no longer have a physical space to kneel, stand in awe of the waves, the birds flying over head, the creak of the boards in rhythmic beat to my breathing patterns.
But I do have its memory and the hope for the thaw. And I will explore new spaces because I will be made to do so. The shift in seasons comes both physically and in life changes. As leaders, we learn to embrace the shifts. To root ourselves not in places but in moments, people, and our faith for renewal. To engage with the joys that come with a change of scenery and condition.
I have never learned these lessons more profoundly than in this season of my leadership where I have no dock to go to for work. There is no building. Only my home office. And I am grateful for the lesson to embrace the excavation of a new season.
Today, I was supposed to sub for a local elementary principal. He cancelled yesterday, and I find it not surprising at all that I was given the gift of watching my dock removed instead. Yet another reminder for me to allow the season to grow me, to release the location, and to explore this new season without looking back so much.
What might you be clinging to in your own leadership, and how can you embrace the metaphorical release of your own dock?
Another thoughtful, faith-centered, and moving reflection, Sarah. Thank you and blessings in all things!
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