Ray, a trusted mentor and older friend with silver hair, listened closely during a coffee meeting at a small shop near the author’s house. The author, a new director, described the difficult shift from being a counselor to managing budgets, writing evaluations, and holding people accountable.
“I don’t know what I’m doing,” the author said. “I feel like I’m bothering people every time I ask for help.” The author added that criticism from others described him as too nice and not strong enough on policy, while staff also wanted more freedom. “I’m not sure how much longer I can do this,” he told Ray.
After the author finished, Ray leaned forward. “You’re seeing yourself as a victim,” he said. “Like life is just happening to you and you’re waiting for it to stop.” The author hoped for advice, but Ray gave only the truth and trusted the author to find his own way.
Driving home with a headache, the author thought the assessment was unfair. But the word “victim” stayed with him through the night. At two in the morning, staring at the ceiling, he turned the word over in his mind. He began to see something true inside it. He had been holding onto grievances without expressing them or trying to change things. He imagined himself wearing a wooden sign around his neck with the word “Victim” on it.
The author realized he was choosing to wear that sign. He started asking what word he did want to carry. He considered “hero,” “victor,” “agent,” “creator,” “survivor,” and “overcomer.” None fit. Then a different word came: “Steward.”
Looking up the word that night, the author learned that “steward” originally meant the keeper of the house, someone trusted to care for what belonged to a larger story. A steward takes care of what has been given, stays present with intention, and recognizes that even difficult parts are worth caring for. A victim is defined by what has been done to them. A steward is defined by what they choose to do with it.
Years later, leadership challenges remain. The author still struggles with criticism. Recently, a strong staff member asked for a formal meeting. She told the author that flexibility given to others was making her job harder. “When people don’t follow through and there are no consequences, the ones who do the work end up carrying more than their share,” she said. “It doesn’t feel fair.”
The author wanted to explain that he was trying to ease pressure on everyone. But he recognized that response came from the victim mindset. A steward does not protect himself from hard feedback. “You’re right,” the author said. “I’m grateful you came to me directly.” He told her he had been working on holding clearer limits and that her feedback would help him protect the standard for those who do excellent work.
The movement from victim to steward is ongoing. The author still stumbles and feels the sign settling back around his neck. He used to experience leadership difficulty as something happening to him, as evidence he did not belong. Now he recognizes that this season of life is asking something of him, not punishing him. He is being called into service.
The author thinks about stewardship often. It means stopping merely surviving life and starting to tend to it. At the coffee shop, Ray knew the author well enough to tell an uncomfortable truth. Sometimes people need someone standing close enough to point out the sign around their neck. The author no longer carries that sign. On days when it settles back, he remembers the word that replaced it: steward. Someone who tends to what they have been given. Someone who asks what life expects of them, listens, and answers the call.
