Over 40 years ago, early in my career, I found myself sitting at a formal dinner table in a professional setting that felt far beyond anything I had ever experienced.
The table was set with more forks, spoons, and glasses than I knew how to navigate. The setting was so unfamiliar that I questioned whether I was worthy of having a seat at the table. The truth is, the extravagant place setting made me feel out of my league, and I feared that one small mistake would confirm others’ belief that I did not belong at that table, in the company, or in the industry.
And my fears had nothing to do with my performance. I knew I had the experience, education, wisdom, and expertise to succeed. What unsettled me were the unspoken rules of the room—the customs no one explains—and the fear of making a common mistake or a CLIM, a career-limiting move.
Because when you are the “first or the only”, making any mistake feels scary. Knowing that your missteps will not only influence your own opportunities but also unfairly impact the perceptions and future possibilities of others who look like you makes even ordinary moments feel heavy and risky.
Because my confidence was waning, I knew I needed help. I didn’t need correction or criticism; I needed care.
That care came from elders in my church—people who never had the opportunity to sit at corporate tables themselves, yet possessed the knowledge I deeply needed.
Without my knowing, they set up an entire formal table setting in the back of the church and patiently walked me through the different utensils. They taught me what to use, when to use it, and how to move through meals with confidence. Their love and concern not only prepared me; it strengthened my confidence and reminded me that I was capable of navigating unfamiliar settings with grace.
That one small act—helping me feel comfortable at the table—became a life-changing moment in my career and encouraged me to enter new rooms and accept new challenges. Most of all, it convinced me that I belonged.
As I reflect on my career journey, I’m reminded that it was often my elders who quietly equipped me for the rooms I was called to enter. Unfortunately, after we earn degrees or gain some social status, we too often overlook those who have helped us the most because we assume they have little to offer.
As you reflect on your career –
1) Who helped you feel ready when you were not sure you belonged?
2) Who provided the wisdom you needed so that work wouldn’t undermine your feelings of worth?
3) Who might be waiting for you to show up for them in a life-changing way?
Our elders teach us so much about success, and I am so grateful that those lessons continue to ground us today.
My prayer for you: May you recognize the love that shaped you, honor those who prepared you, share the lessons they gave you, and extend that same care to those you meet along the way.
Blessings!
SharRon
** If you are not receiving my newsletter, please sign up here.
