The Statue of Liberty stands proudly in New York City’s shadow. Years ago her presence greeted thousands of immigrants ready to depart a ship and make a home. What it must have been like to be welcomed by such a symbol of freedom and opportunity. Hope and fear bundled together as men and women, many leaving poverty in hopes of prosperity, gathered their inspection papers and prayed they would pass the health examination on Ellis Island. After days and days on a ship, sea sick and struggling with cabin fever, the sight of the Statue of Liberty must have liberated even faintest of travelers.
While I was not around for Ellis Island’s busier days in the early 1900s, I have seen faces on people who walk into communities, jobs, and churches with similar despair and desire for a new life. Good leaders reflect a message not unlike the Statue of Liberty. “Come, feast and drink. Live under my care. You are safe here. You are free to be you. Opportunity abounds under my watch.” People flock to live, work, and worship under such promised care.
The experience of freedom and empowerment that comes from working under the leadership of someone who knows who they are and what they have to offer cannot be undervalued.
However, far too many leaders, as my friend pointed out, have another thing in common with the Statue of Liberty: They are hollow.
In many cases, this is less a character issue and more a failure of self-care. How well do you take care of yourself? A leader must grapple with this question both in the micro and the macro- that is, on a daily basis as well as quarterly and annually. Presidents, principals, teachers, coaches, parents, CEOs, and the rest of us: Every one of us have people or things under our care, and the less hollow we are, the better stewards and leaders we will be.
People need things from us. While not always preferable, this is good. We are made to give and offer, and if we are not participating in our design, we will drift into depression. So we must pursue the pouring out of ourself. But many care-givers neglect themselves and deplete their reservoir in the process. What words do you use at the end of the day? Tired. Drained. Pressure. Failure. Long hours. Need to sleep. Now multiply these words over weeks and years.
An empty cup offers potential, but it cannot satisfy a thirsty friend. Those under your care need you splashing and overflowing.
Do you love yourself and those around you enough to fight for your own heart? It takes self-compassion to put ourselves in a place of being able to care for people. The constant need of others upon a giver empties the heart.
A Swedish car salesman recently told me, “Americans work too hard.”
Yes, we do. And I don’t see that changing. So if we continue to work this hard, we had better find healthy ways to rest and replenish our heart and mind, or else. Or else we and those under our care will suffer and pay for our foolishness and lack of wisdom to know the needs of our heart.
We need more statues of liberty in our world, people who stand for hope and freedom and life. Most importantly, though, we need leaders who can follow through on their promises to care and provide. Leaders like these know how to admit it when they are hollow, and they know how to care for themselves when empty.
