An event I went to last week began by asking each attendee to write a note of encouragement to another nonprofit leader in the room. I thought about what I’ve wanted to hear at some of the harder moments I’ve faced and wrote a few lines. Then, not expecting to see the words again, I snapped a quick photo before handing it in.
At the end of the event, we learned that while we’d been in breakout groups, the organizers had printed and framed a group photo for every attendee to take home, with one of our notes tucked into each.
An organizer shared that the intent was for everyone to leave with a reminder of the people and community doing this work alongside them, and while the notes had been placed at random, she believed everyone would get the one they were meant to receive.
I haven’t stopped thinking about how it was one of the best events I’ve been to. While so many conferences and networking events almost seem to inspire performative behavior, this one managed to foster deep authenticity instead by positioning the attendees as the experts throughout.
Rather than keynotes or panels, we gathered into small groups, where each person had a chance to share a challenge they were facing and be advised by their peers. Rather than learning another self-care tip, we were invited to share care with one another.
When the post-event email came through a few days later, the organizers had quoted from one of the notes, and I found my own words staring back at me: “Caring about doing good in the world is one of the bravest, hardest, and most meaningful things we can do.” The first line of my note.
I thought about how I’d written what I would have wanted to hear in a moment of feeling discouraged. And yet, I also know all too well that the words I could so easily offer a stranger, and fully mean, are words I’d never have offered myself. When I try to be kind to myself, it’s like my system goes, “Nice try. That advice is coming from someone who is full of it.” 😂
Seeing my words in that email made me wonder why I’d never let them count for me.
So often, we hand over our sense of worth to experts without asking if they’ve ever walked in our shoes. Sometimes, even when we know they haven’t, we still trust the label because we have difficulty trusting our own expertise and lived experience.
But sometimes the person we most need to believe is the one who’s walked in our shoes all along: ourselves.
And right after ourselves, the people who’ve walked the same path.
Speaking of, here’s part of the note that was tucked into my frame: “To the fearless nonprofit leader who gets up every morning and tirelessly keeps showing up for the people they serve, you are AMAZING!”
In the end, I went home with two notes I was meant to receive. One from a fellow leader who’d captured exactly what I want to be known for: showing up for people. And one I’d written for someone else that found its way back to me.
