Rainmakers of Leadership

Stand Up, Stand Out, Stand In

On a recent trip, I lay on my bed, waking up from yet another afternoon nap, literally in the lap of luxury, because I was fortunate to be idle with my time, restful with my movements, and recharge the way I saw fit.

I sat looking out the windows watching the tide roll in and wave the boats in the harbor, and the huge storm that had been threatening to flood the island I’d been vacationing on show up late.

And this tardiness that had threatened the skies for the last several days and the majority of my vacation hadn’t dumped its payload yet. Hadn’t yet done what it was promising to do. Every night, clear and the following mornings, nothing remarkable.

Then I thought, where is my midday rain, where is the midday of my life, the time of my life where it all would pay off, the pay out, the pay up. The day when every bit of travel, accumulation of debt, investment, and dead-end job would finally come together and flood out everything that I had ever done.

The overflow of the truth of my skies: even though they may seem empty and untouchable and unattainable to the things on the ground. Even though they are blocked by umbrellas, barriered by rooftops, and occasionally moved by pollution, they do release themselves and live up to their promise. It’s going to rain.

People anticipating rain affect the local tourism economy; they change plans, stay in, tip less, and complain more when it rains during their vacation.

But the lack of rain and the promise of a flood were almost as effective.

I’ve never been a glass is half empty kind of girl, but never a glass is half full type either. Just a girl who realizes there is water in the glass and never wants it to get empty.

Within modern-day leadership, it mimics a lot of these unfriendly skies, not willing to stand out, not willing to think, to stand up, and not willing to stand in, for better or worse. Willing to do the hard thing. Willing to be there when it is not what they’ve seen everyone else do. In that regard, leadership has disappeared. Because you are not supposed to follow the will of the people who listen to the “rain gods,” but you are to do what you promised, lead. In that way, you dictate the weather, change the economy, and make it rain at your peak time with the intended purpose.

And my life was made to make it rain.

What once looked like a bunch of empty, meaningless jobs accumulated enough osmosis to form a cloud, and I moved on. What looked like a “volunteer” opportunity turned those people from bystanders to allies, and I collected another cloud. Until one day, I looked up, and it was hard to see the sun because I had collected such a great cloud of witnesses cheering me on. Past triumphs, lessons learned from failures, and then it became clear: it was going to rain.

My purpose had come.

It is time to see the son again, and to stand up, stand out, and stand in. And all this time, I hadn’t waited to do so. When I was young, I was just starting out in my career. I looked silly, I stood out like a sore thumb, I was just one cloud in a sky full of clear blue, and beaming sun. Some were mad at me, some were thankful for a bit of shade from the relentless glare, and others were indifferent because I had not reached any significance.

But even then, though I had no thunder yet, my silence was loud. Not enough to catch electricity, and even if I did, it wouldn’t be enough to touch down on earth or light anything up on the ground. And yet I kept moving.

Modern-day leadership looks like people waiting to be given opportunities, yet a leader doesn’t just have it handed to them. They take it. Every loss is an opportunity, every challenge a chance for change, and every day a new journey that has enough trouble in and of itself.

If I worried about my journey and tried to plan every step, the wind might have tossed me to and fro already, making quick work of me, the remnants of me splayed across the sky like a vapor of smoke. But I pressed on, holding myself intact and every hire and fire I took a piece of cloud with me while holding myself intact.

And eventually, my cloud is big enough to hold significance in the sky, so that when people see me, they change the weather report. I allowed other little clouds with potential to gravitate toward me to stay in my orbit. Some clouds took a piece of me; others added more than they took before they left. I kept the doors open, kept building my own cloud, and the ones that stayed, I continue to pour into their growth while I myself grew taller and wider.

And now, when I’m over a city, town, neighborhood, or house, some that welcome and some that disdain the rain yell, “It’s going to rain!” Both with relief and those with terror.

But either way, I stand up. Not backing down to my purpose.

Titles and positions are no different than weather reports; occasionally, they are accurate, but more often than not, you need to go see for yourself.

That is to say that if you are waiting for someone to label you, or you are telling the world who you are, neither you nor they are correct or incorrect until your actions prove them otherwise.

So here I am on the eve of my successes, having yet to show what I came for, and all the more reason to pour out what I’ve been collecting, and I needed a moment to reflect. And not to despise the days of my small beginnings, where I was insignificant to some, a relief to others, and to many more a nuisance that they photoshopped out of their picture, but to reflect on the goodness of the Lord.

That now in my season, I can either make the weather report or make fools of the rain gods in all, but wherever I am, whatever I’m doing, I stand in.

I stand in as either a blessing or a threat.

That people either shut in or act now because of me. And either way, whatever I do next, this flood was a long time coming.

Watch the skies, my friends.