Be Still and Know

“Be still and know that I am God” … the quote was offered to someone who often quipped verses, perhaps as much to deride or ‘discipline’ as much as to help. A deeply religious person, she was also my master teacher. Charlie respected my operative in faith but didn’t always understand it. She began to cry … she knew the comment was not a demand.

Charlie, her abbreviation for Charlotte, was a tornado.  I mean that in a very respectful way, she was brilliant and quick and knew what needed to be done but her expectations were counter to my modes of operation. I am a reflective thinker, my way of inviting compliance is to ask the subject to think about what I might expect … hers to tell them … and add “now!” As her protégé, I was more than intimidated; I was often fearful of her presence and knew that I was not meeting her expectations. I often wondered if I would be employed in the coming year. Mid-year, I was plucked from the classroom to fill a pre-formal administrative role as Chapter-1 Coordinator and Head Teacher. Though she had applied for the job and provided exemplary evidence of her capacity to do the work well, Charlie did not get the job. She remained our Curriculum Coordinator and Instructional Coach.

The contrast between us was something that our principal recognized and exploited in the most meaningful of ways. When forced to team as equals, the product was exemplary; our staff development was effective and engaging to our audiences. Her intensity moved me forward, my reflectiveness made her listen. To her, I owed the recognition of my success, to me she owed the calm when we addressed staff with a new expectation. We were a team. I look back and understand that I would not have moved up the leadership ladder without her.

Charlie struggled with why I was moving up as quickly and how hard she was working. Frankly, if leadership success was measured by effort or courage, Charlie would have left me in the dust, I was not nearly as bright, far too timid and did not have equivalent drive.

The joke was that I was the “EF Hutton” commercial … when I finally spoke, people listened … but I rarely spoke, I didn’t have to, Charlie spoke for me. It was in that context that the comment arrived. Charlie often ran over the top of me in my conversations. In this case, we were at a state level conference with our mentees in tow. Charlie was making note of work she had done with various speakers, national figures, and her roles as protégé to some significant national leadership. She legitimately deserved every compliment she was soliciting. She had EARNED every accolade and all of us knew and respected the critical value. Frankly, it was wearing thin and even though I suspected she intuitively recognized it, she continued with ‘more and better’ for each topic that was introduced. The team acknowledged, complimented, and allowed more elaboration … but eyes were beginning to glaze. The greater the silence, the more she filled. When we sat down for lunch, she finally stopped, as she did so, she put me on the spot.

I was uncomfortable and I didn’t have any ready response … something I suspected she knew. What I also understood was that she was searching, she wasn’t attempting to belittle me, she was looking for an “out” to modulate the pace she had set and was now struggling to keep. She was cornered and now she was cornering me to escape. At first it angered me … but just as quickly, I recognized how vulnerable she was. The only thing that came to me was a verse, I whispered it into her ear. She knew it was a compliment as much as guidance … “Be still and know that I am God” … it was time to trust her maker. She left for the restroom, but the entire table saw her begin to cry. A couple of our mentees quickly pulled me aside and abruptly wanted to know what I said. I replied that I thought that, if necessary, that should be a question for Charlie. They were not happy … frankly, more than a bit grumpy, but complied.

Charlie came back to a very silent table, we could see that she had been crying. The only empty chair was beside mine, she sat down and leaned my way, “Thank you!”

I appreciated the comment, it validated what I stood for in a single phrase.

As I looked up, all eyes were fixed on the two of us. There was no question everyone had heard. There was no question they understood. I gave Charlie a hug.