Sometimes the best lessons in life come at the most unexpected moments. I’ve been juggling a few different projects this month, and the stress associated with those projects has caused me in many ways to be something other than a good teammate lately to the teammates that matter to me the most—my family.
In the hopes of quieting my mind and just catching my breath, I laid down on my couch Sunday afternoon and took a nap.
Among the things contributing to my stress was what to write about this week. I have been so preoccupied with my other projects that I had placed my blog further on the back burner than I normally do. Without realizing I had done so, I must have mentioned this issue during one of my recent rants.
When I woke up from my nap, a small porcelain statue of Winnie the Pooh was staring me in the face. Attached to it was a yellow Post-It note that simply said, “For your blog.”
The statue is one of my 9-year old daughter’s favorite possessions. She had written the note and conspicuously placed the statue on the couch cushion in front of me while I was sleeping. The inscription on the statue reads: Sometimes the smallest things take up the most room in your heart.
SOMETIMES THE SMALLEST THINGS TAKE UP THE MOST ROOM IN YOUR HEART.
I was touched by her gesture and had assumed she was suggesting that I write about the inscription on the statue. But when I went to give her a hug and thank her for her thoughtfulness, she asked me if I remembered how upset she was and how much she cried when her sister dropped the statue and it shattered?
I did not. I had actually forgotten all about that happening.
My daughter went on to describe to me how much it meant to her when I glued the pieces back together. With a look of innocence in her eyes, she said, “When you are a good teammate, you do nice things for others, like gluing stuff back together, even if it doesn’t seem like a big deal to you.”
She was suggesting that I write about that story and not the inscription on the statue—which I am now happily doing.
The inscription on the statue is meaningful and true and certainly applicable to being a good teammate. But her words are insightful too, and they are wisdom forged from the perspective of a child.
I suppose, the moral of the story is that the essence of being a good teammate lies in the continual willingness to do kind, generous acts that may seem like nothing more than a small inconvenience to you, yet often mean the world to the recipient.
Those acts are called good teammate moves—and they are our way of sharing our talents with our teammates. The more of them we do, the better teammate we become.
As always…Good teammates care. Good teammates share. Good teammates listen. Go be a good teammate.