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Beauty on the Backroads

Stories of grace for life's unexpected turns

leadership

What we leave behind

November 8, 2012

I don’t think much about legacy, or how I’ll be remembered, until one of my kids repeats a behavior I’m trying to break or I hear in my own voice decades-old words I’m trying to forget.

Legacy. It’s heavy stuff.

And we’re talking about it over at The Deeper Leader blog this week: “How do you think you’ll be remembered? What kind of Legacy do you hope to leave behind?” Add your voice by commenting or posting a blog of your own.

It’s an appropriate topic for this week, when we’ve exercised one of our great freedoms in this country by voting. A president’s legacy is one that overshadows him almost before he even takes office.

But I have to ask, is thinking about legacy–a good one, anyway–a detriment to leaving one?

I’m guessing that those who have left the greatest legacies, be they presidents, activists, philanthropists, parents, or anyone in between, didn’t think about what they were doing as “leaving a legacy.” If I let those words hover over my daily activities, I wonder if I’d accomplish anything worthwhile. No pressure!

I almost always think of legacy as something positive, and when I consider the people who have left a legacy in my life, I think of those who invested time or money or experience in my life in some personal way. Of course, legacy can be a bad thing, and in some families, a legacy of pain, suffering, abuse and neglect can transcend generations. One way I see my life’s legacy is to serve as an ending point for any painful legacies passed on through the years.

I don’t know if anyone will consciously talk about my legacy. I can’t imagine having a building bearing my name or a monument erected to my memory–wouldn’t that be something!–but what I imagine, and hope for most, is a legacy of faith. That my children would love the Lord with all their mind, soul and strength and follow Him wherever He leads. That they would have children who would follow Him, too. That because Christ wooed me to Himself, because He worked in generations past to preserve our family line, generations yet to come would know Him, serve Him and build His kingdom.

I read these words today, from Psalm 71, not knowing that legacy was the topic for the blog this week:

And now that I am old and gray-headed, O God, do not forsake me,
till I make known your strength to this generation
and your power to all who are to come.

I am neither old (34) nor gray-headed (my stylist found one gray hair on my birthday a few years back) but this, this, is the legacy I long for. That God’s great and mighty works would be known to future generations. That what He has done in my life will not die with me but will endure in the days to come.

I can’t think of anyone who doesn’t want to be remembered fondly and well.

The key to that is to live now the way you want to be remembered.

A lasting legacy, then, is sure to follow.

Filed Under: Children & motherhood, faith & spirituality, leadership Tagged With: death, generational sin, how will I be remembered, leadership, legacy, presidential election

The wrong way to lead

October 11, 2012

Posting about leadership on the same night as a vice presidential debate: sounds about right.

When it comes to leadership, I feel like I know more of what NOT to do than what to do. And I’ve learned plenty of what not to do from my own mistakes. I’m contributing once again to a leadership discussion here on the topic: “Whoops! How Have You Grown From Your Mistakes in Leadership?” (For other leadership posts, click here and here.)

Mistakes? We’ve all got ’em. And the sooner we learn from them the better leaders we become. Two related instances stood out in my mind when thinking about leadership mistakes. Both took place in my first “real” leadership position, as a resident assistant (R.A.) during my semester in England.

It was the perfect time for me to test my leadership wings. A friend who had been an R.A. the semester before encouraged me to do it and even prepped me a little for the interview. It meant having my own room (which was a plus because my roommate was a partier and I was not) and a little extra cash to spend on travels and such. It also had a degree of responsibility which was less than it would have been back on our home campus soil but I still took it seriously.

I got the job and went through a small amount of training about how best to handle rule infractions. One of the most important rules was: No smoking. We were living in a 19th century manor house. Smoking in the manor–not a good idea. The first time this rule was tested under my watch, I was hanging out with some friends in their room. We could smell smoke from the floor above us, a common occurrence for my friends. One of them pressured me to go up and confront the girl they knew would be smoking. I, on the other hand, was hoping someone else would handle the conflict. (How’s that for leadership?)

But I went. I knocked on the door. When I was told to come in, I found a girl smoking in her windowsill. I told her she couldn’t smoke. She said, “Why not? It’s my room.” I got upset. I think I raised my voice. She argued back and demanded to see her R.A. I found her R.A. and she handled the situation beautifully, just as we’d been trained to do.

Lesson learned: Training is important. And chances are if you’ve been trained to do something, there will come a day when you’ll have to use it. My mistake was forgetting my training. Instead, I felt pressured to take action and fix the problem and assert authority. I did it all wrong. Maybe if I’d paused and given myself time to think, I’d have remembered what we were taught to do.

The second instance had to do with a girl on my floor. She had a rough exterior (I’m not talking about her looks) and you could just tell she wasn’t going to take anything from anyone. One night her music was too loud and someone complained. So, I dragged myself to the end of the hall and around the corner and asked her to turn her music down. She complied and I went back to my room, which shared a wall with her room. Not long after I sat back down at my desk, I heard some loud thumps against the wall. I was so keyed up with adrenaline from having to confront her, even on a little issue, that I imagined she was harassing me for having scolded her. So, I wrote her up. Without going back to her and finding out what was going on.

When she received her punishment, she came right to my door and demanded an explanation. I told her what I’d heard and she denied it. I apologized, but it didn’t help. The next time I walked through her hallway on my night rounds and the music was too loud, her roommate gave her a look that said, “turn it down” and the girl loudly said, “I don’t care what she says.” I knew then that my authority, my leadership, was doomed. A few months later, when her boyfriend came to visit, let’s just say I took a mini-vacation from my room and didn’t write her up for the things I heard going on that night.

Lesson learned: Assumption really does make you look like an ass. And acting in revenge or out of your own insecurities only leads to more trouble. I’m still not a huge fan of conflict but I’ve learned that sometimes it’s necessary. And it can be healthy. And no one, I mean NO ONE, is going to respect your authority when you “pull rank.” (For more on this topic, click here.)

I’d love to tell you that since those days, my leadership has been perfect. It hasn’t. I still make mistakes. Sometimes they’re well-intentioned mistakes. I know they’re inevitable and I’ll learn from them, but making mistakes still hurts.

What about you? How have you learned from your mistakes in leadership? We’d love for you to join this discussion by commenting on this blog post or over at The Deeper Leader blog.

Stay tuned for more leadership topics!

Filed Under: leadership Tagged With: deeper leader, evangelical seminary, harlaxton college, leadership, learning from mistakes, master of arts in christian leadership, resident assistant

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Hi. I’m Lisa, and I’m glad you’re here. If we were meeting in real life, I’d offer you something to eat or drink while we sat on the porch letting the conversation wander as it does. That’s a little bit what this space is like. We talk about books and family and travel and food and running, whatever I might encounter in world. I’m looking for the beauty in the midst of it all, even the tough stuff. (You’ll find a lot of that here, too.) Thanks for stopping by. Stay as long as you like.

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