Gratitude for Steady Strength

(Part 1 of 4: A Late-Lee Reflection on Leadership and Thankfulness)

There’s a stillness that comes with early morning woods. Long before sunrise, when the world is gray and quiet, the hunter settles in—steady, alert, and patient. The cold air stings a little, and the only sound is the steady rhythm of their breathing. Every movement feels louder than it should. It’s easy to hear each heartbeat. Great hunters learn quickly that success in the hunt isn’t found in the noise; it’s found in the waiting.

When I was little, I’d sometimes go hunting with my dad. We’d sit on an old fallen tree, the kind covered in moss and memories. I tried so hard to stay still, but I’ve never been known for my silence. I like to talk too much and I can’t sit for very long. One look from him was enough to remind me to settle in and just be. At first, the quiet felt uncomfortable. I am a worrier. So, the loudness of the quiet would make me shudder as I filled my mind with all of the scary things that could be lurking…watching and waiting to grab me! He would often call me a worrywart. He wasn’t wrong. But as I learned to pause and appreciate all that was around me, I felt something shift. I started noticing things such as the way light cut through the trees, the sounds layered on top of each other, the way my dad’s eyes moved slowly across the woods, alert to everything and hurried by nothing. My mind began to calm.

He may have been hunting, but I was learning.

Learning patience.

Learning awareness.

Learning the beauty in stillness.

And I didn’t realize it at the time, but that kind of learning would matter later, especially as I began my own leadership journey. And per usual, late-Lee I’ve been thinking about the similarities between great hunters and leaders.

Leadership has its own kind of woods. There’s movement all around, and it’s tempting to fill the silence with our own noise. Sometimes we try to talk, to fix, to act, anything to avoid the quiet. But growth, like hunting, often requires stillness. The best leaders aren’t always the loudest in the room. They’re the ones who steady the moment, listen before speaking, and notice what others overlook. Those are the quiet ones. The steady hearts who keep showing up, not for attention or applause, but because they believe the work is worth it. They carry calm when others carry chaos. They lead, teach, and serve from a place of quiet courage.

Teachers see this same truth in their classrooms. Some students make their presence known from the moment they walk in. Others move softly through the day. They are dependable, kind, and quiet. If we aren’t careful, they can pass through our lessons without our words ever reaching them. Their silence doesn’t mean they don’t need to be seen; it just means we have to look a little closer. Like the hunter, we have to keep scanning for signs.

Gratitude helps us do that. It slows us down long enough to notice the ones who keep us grounded—the quiet colleagues, the steady teachers, the students who show up each day and try again tomorrow.

Sometimes leadership and teaching isn’t about making more noise. It’s about honoring the stillness that keeps everything steady.

Leadership in Action

This week, take time to thank the steady ones:

• The colleague who quietly keeps things running when no one’s looking.
• The teacher who models calm consistency.
• The student who doesn’t ask for attention but deserves it.

Offer a word, a note, or a moment of acknowledgment. Because like one of my favorite quotes (Mary Ann Radmacher) reminds us “Courage doesn’t always roar. Sometimes it’s the quiet voice at the end of the day saying, I’ll try again tomorrow.” Be sure to thank them for showing up and giving it their all!

I want to thank you for stepping into this leadership role. It’s not easy, but here you are…like the great hunter settling in, with the promise of a sunrise that will illuminate all we should be grateful for just because we have decided to show up and try again.