The Light Bulb Went Off

The Light Bulb Went Off

John Paul Derryberry

I can remember some distinctive moments when the light bulb went off. At those moments, I figured out something that would stick with me for a long time. Most of us have them; but we tend to only remember the moments that made us feel like we were on the wrong path, that we had picked the wrong person, or that an adverse event had altered our course forever. I have my fair share of those logged in my memory. I was so bad in my first real college basketball game; I knew my dream of playing the game for as long as possible wouldn't be as long as I would have liked. Or my rebellion at a place of work, that I loved, would not lead to wholesale change but a slow death from crappy leadership choices. It happens; not every path we take leads to a good outcome, and sometimes, we fight the good fight only to lose. 

I had another one of those moments this week, but it was on the healthy side of the coin. During some random networking at a conference, I was asked what I wanted to be remembered for when I was done working in the field. I would have answered this very differently at different points in my career. Once, I would have said for creating a program that broke the code on how to heal people from their trauma; at another, I would have said it created a wave of change in how we treat frontline staff and hold non-profit leaders responsible for outcomes. 

Yet, I'm not there anymore. I can still tap into those parts of me when needed. Still, I've been rounded into a leader who wants to be remembered for caring for as many people as possible. Clients, frontline staff, middle management leaders, and upper management folks. People are people no matter what job we do, and if we work to improve all their lives, we could create a better place to live for everyone. See, a lot of leaders separate people with imaginary barriers and false narratives about the best path forward. Yet, more of us can examine the complex problems we face and find solutions that care for way more people than many leaders do.  

The notion of wanting to be remembered for caring for others means I get to wiggle out of tough decisions or that all my choices are always loved by the people around me. Because that's not the case, caring for everyone means working extra hard to build connective tissue between everyone. So, different departments and people do not see competition when they interact. It means standing up to bullies pushing for their way, which means those folks get left out. And even bullies are people, and if I aim to care for as many people as possible, that means caring about the bullies of the world, too. 

While limiting the folks I care for would be easier, it would be counterintuitive to who I want to be. This conference conversation was the light bulb moment for me. It revealed that I had gotten to a place where I would challenge leaders to care for more people than they do and hold compassion for folks longer than usual. I want to be remembered as a person who did his best to care for others, even when making the hard choices in life. It's a pursuit of a healthy notion that solutions to complicated problems can have a thorough line of everyone matters. We should take the time to be vulnerable, thoughtful, and open enough to care about everyone affected.