A few years ago, the author met an old friend and mentor, called Ray, for coffee at a small shop near his house. The author had just finished his first year as a director. His identity had been built around listening and connecting as a counselor, but his new role involved managing budgets, writing evaluations, and holding people accountable.
“I don’t know what I’m doing,” the author told Ray. “And I feel like I’m bothering people every time I ask for help.”
Ray nodded and said it sounded tough. The author kept talking, adding that people criticized him for being too nice and not strong enough on policy. He told Ray he was not sure how much longer he could continue.
After the author finished, Ray leaned forward. He told the author he was seeing himself as a victim, as if life was just happening to him and he was waiting for it to stop. The author waited for advice, but Ray did not offer any. He gave the truth and trusted the author to find his own way.
The author drove home with a headache. He told himself it was not fair and that Ray had not heard everything. But the word “victim” stayed with him. It was still there when he tried to sleep and at two in the morning when he stared at the ceiling.
The author turned the word over in his mind. He started to see something true in it. He had been holding onto grievances without expressing them. He had been accumulating a sense of being wronged without saying a word or trying to change things. That had a name, and the name was the one Ray had given him.
In the dark, the author pictured himself wearing a wooden sign around his neck with the word “Victim” on it. He knew he was not being punished by someone else. Some part of him was choosing to wear it.
The author started asking himself what word he did want to carry. He thought of words like hero, victor, agent, creator, survivor, and overcomer. None of them were what he needed. Then a word rose up from a deep place: “Steward.”
The author looked up the word that night. At its root, “steward” meant the keeper of the house, someone trusted to look after what belonged to a larger story than their own. A steward takes care of what has been given to them, stays present with intention, and recognizes that what they have been given, including the difficult parts, is worth caring for.
The author realized 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, the challenges of leadership are still present. The author still struggles with criticism. A few weeks ago, one of his strongest staff members asked for a formal meeting. She told him that the flexibility he was giving others was making her job harder. She said it did not feel fair when people did not follow through and there were no consequences.
The author wanted to tell her he was trying to ease the pressure. But he recognized that was the victim talking. A steward does not protect himself from hard feedback. The author told her she was right and that he was grateful she came to him directly. He said her feedback would help him hold clearer limits.
The movement from victim to steward is an ongoing process. The author still stumbles and feels the sign settling back around his neck. He used to experience the difficulty of leadership as something happening to him. What shifted was the recognition that this season of his life was asking something of him, not punishing him.
The author thinks about stewardship often. He thinks about what it means to stop merely surviving life and start tending to it. He remembers the night at the coffee shop when Ray told him an uncomfortable truth. Sometimes people need the sign around their neck pointed out by someone standing close enough to see it.
The author is trying not to carry that sign anymore. On days when he feels it settling back around his neck, he remembers the word that replaced it. Steward. Someone who tends to what they have been given. Someone who asks what life is expecting of them, listens, and answers the call. That is the person he wants to be.
