There is a tradition in our company of giving to less fortunate children at Christmas time. Celeste, who works in our communications department, spends enormous amounts of her free time creating giving trees to help these children. First, she contacts the charity who provides a listing of children, their ages (normally between 5 and 15) and one or two items that they want for Christmas. The majority of the items are things many constant listeners may take for granted; hats, gloves, socks. Some older girls may ask for makeup. Some younger boys may ask for a basketball. Simple items.
Celeste then begins working on her trees. Last year, she created the trees. Let me interject that she makes three trees, one for each of the offices in our campus. She makes each tree with PVC piping as branches and decorates the entire tree. Attached to each PVC branch was a wood chip, a slicing of wood from a real branch, with each child’s name and age printed in perfect penmanship. Inside the tube was what they wanted for Christmas.
Each tree contained 25-30 names. They looked beautiful and employees would flock to the tree to read the names. Some employees would take more than one wood chip just because it’s rewarding to share a little with a child. Each year, the president or I would tell Celeste to give us any wood chips that weren’t taken and we would provide for those children. Before long, the chips would be gone.
On the designated delivery day, each employee would come to work with large bags and packages for the children. Our conference room would swell with presents as most people bought plenty more than the child asked. And, Celeste, like a true elf, would pack her sleigh (and a corporate van) and deliver to all the children a week before Christmas. Her stuffed car drove out of the way without the help of reindeer, but resembling Santa all the way.
COVID changed the tradition this year. My office is nearly empty. Celeste is working from home and I’m sure that she’s doing her small part to brighten the lives of those who need their spirits lifted. At home are a majority of the workers who would have taken a wood chip or two. The conference room is empty this year. Normally, this week it would be brimming with presents and I would enjoy taking a walk up to the 2nd floor to see how many gifts were being given.
It’s different this year. The change has me asking a question that I’m sure some of you ask as well. Do we miss the giving season or do we miss the traditions we love? Or, perhaps it’s both.
Welcome to Swimming in the Flood; a podcast where we develop the resilient leader’s mindset by navigating difficult currents in business. My name is Trent Theroux.
Here is my unscientific, non-peer reviewed, resilient leader theory on preparing the final stage of strategies. Are you ready? Got your pencils out? Here’s it is. Rehearse Your Endgame. You heard it. Rehearse Your Endgame.
The theory is simple. Here’s how it works. Since I was a youngster, I would visit the National Shrine of Our Lady of La Salette. It’s in Attleboro, Massachusetts. From Thanksgiving weekend through New Year’s, La Salette lights up its shrine grounds in Christmas lights. Over 300,000 lights, of all colors light up their 10 acres of winter wonderland.
Since I had children, I followed this one tradition. We would arrive at the shrine at 4:30, thirty minutes before the lights would come on. We position ourselves in front of this hip high hedge about forty yards in front of the manger. We would go in December, so standing outside for thirty minutes in the cold can be a long time for young children, but it was worth it.
At five minutes to five the procession, led by the presiding priest, would come out of mass that just concluded carrying candles and walked to the manger. By this point, the sky is dark, pitch dark. The area is canopied with massive pine trees.
Folks, thank you for listening to Swimming in the Flood. Resilient leaders face challenging currents and it is tough navigating, but with one tack or another we can get there together.