A farewell to a community elder. A ballot dropped in a box. A cricket series won from a game down. A kaumatua’s quiet “well done”. A beginner's struggles with getting everything right.
On the surface, they have nothing to do with each other. And yet...
Let me start with the first elder.
We said goodbye to him this week. I didn’t see him often. But when I did, he was always smiling and always ready to ask how I was.
My Tuesday post was for him: “Waiting for tomorrow to say how much someone means to you today is how we end up speaking only at funerals.”
What I’ll miss most is where I saw him most: taraweeh, the long evening prayers in Ramadan. He and two other elders stood in the same spot every night. Night after night. Praying for lengths that would test someone much younger. Nobody asked them to. Nobody applauded. They simply turned up, and the warmth, the smiles and the sheer stamina of those three men lifted everyone around them, including me.
I doubt he ever knew how much. And I never took the time to tell him what difference it made to my worship.
“But what difference does my little bit make?”
I don't know whether the elder ever asked that about his turning up. Regardless, it’s a question I still hear a lot. About climate change. About water usage. About standing up for the oppressed. About standing up against the establishment. About speaking up at all. What difference does my little effort make?
Well, this week I voted. Early, alongside more than a million others. And I thought about how many people around the world don’t have that right or that chance.
It’s the same question dressed differently. One vote among millions - why bother? But close contests do happen, and nobody knows in advance which ballot will be the one that tips it.
I won’t tell you who to vote for. But if you’re in Aotearoa New Zealand and you haven’t voted yet, please do - every vote counts and your vote matters.
Contribution before outcome
Halfway across the world, the Proteas (South Africa's men's cricket team) lost the first Test against Australia and then won the next two to take the series 2-1. On a social media post where the coach and captain were being lauded, someone questioned why people were celebrating them when cricket is a team sport.
It was a fair question. It is a team sport. And that’s exactly the point.
As a leadership coach and someone who is passionate about leadership, I couldn't not respond. So, after directing him to the stats, the evidence about these two's success, I pointed out that much more talented South African teams have come and gone. But what was remarkable about this lot was their cohesion and belief. A group of individuals each offering their bit and trusting everyone else to do the same. Watch how they celebrate each other’s moments. At one stage a bowler ran straight to his captain and lifted him off the ground in celebration. That’s not a statistic. But it’s what the statistics were built on.
Nobody could have won that series alone (although that captain played a significant role in turning it around). And nobody on that field could say their small contribution didn’t matter either.
The feedback that changed it
And then there was another elder in my week.
Midway through developing an approach for an organisation I’m working with, I sat down with their kaumatua to get his thoughts. His feedback and insight were phenomenal. They reshaped parts of what we were building and made it significantly better.
Yesterday, alongside leaders from across the organisation, we presented the approach to everyone. Afterwards he came over, congratulated me and the team and told us we’d shaped something better.
I thanked him. Without his contribution it wouldn’t have been what it was.
From the outside, his input was just a conversation. A bit of feedback on a draft. It turned out to be the thing that changed the outcome. He didn’t wait to tell us. And I didn’t wait to thank him.
If you lead anything, ask the people who can see what you can’t. Ask early, before it’s finished. You’ll never know what difference someone’s contribution makes until you let it in.
Small steps, sincerely taken
Finally, there's someone I’ve been supporting lately. He's been putting himself under enormous pressure to be the best - as though anything less than everything, right now, doesn’t count.
My advice to him has been to put things in perspective - by acknowledging that his mere concern to be better is itself something to be proud of, to be grateful for. And, although that might not seem like much, what if he were to extend the grace his Creator has shown to him, to himself?
Small steps, sincerely taken, are contributions in their own right.
The thread
A ballot in a box. Three elders inspiring from the same spot. A bowler lifting his captain. A kaumatua’s feedback and his “well done”. A beginner’s sincere concern.
None of it looks like much on its own. All of it is how things actually move. All of it with grace.
We've become so oblivious to the obvious that it becomes invisible and we rarely see the weight of what we offer. Until much later. And hindsight, as it is said, is always 20/20.
Final thought
So here are the questions I’m sitting with this week - and I’d invite you to sit with them too:
Where have you been telling yourself that your little bit doesn’t matter?
Who has been quietly standing in the same spot for you - and have you told them today?
Whose input are you not yet asking for - and what might it change?
What’s one obvious thing you do - you contribute to - that has become invisible to you?
Because you’ll rarely see the difference your contribution makes. Yet that’s no reason to hold it back.
Go on. Take the Next Step.
