The Seed You Planted

A former colleague messaged me last Thursday morning.

She said something I didn’t expect. She thanked me for encouraging her years ago and for sharing a poem by Marianne Williamson with her about letting your light shine. 

She told me she’s thought about it often and that next month she’s speaking at a women’s conference, where “Let Your Light Shine” is the title of her talk.

That passage was a big deal to me back then because it put words to something I’ve seen in my own life and in the lives of others.

People shrink.
They hold back.
They get cautious. 
They downplay their gifts and abilities so nobody else feels uncomfortable.

And that line, “Your playing small does not serve the world,” speaks in a powerful way to me. It’s the necessary and constant reminder to fight the habit where we diminish ourselves.

So, I made it my job to encourage others a lot during the years that Ashley and I worked together.

When I see something wonderful or strong or pure in someone, I feel inspired (even convicted) to tell them.

Now, I don’t remember the exact moment that Ashley was referring to. But I do remember that I’ve always had deep respect for her, and that meant speaking truth into her was something of a responsibility I felt.

What I couldn’t know was that those words would stay with her. So when I read her message, I felt joy. 

Real joy. The kind that wells up before you have time to analyze it.

It reminded me of something simple: words of encouragement often last far longer than we think they do.

The truth is that most of what we say feels ordinary in the moment.

A normal Tuesday afternoon conversation.
A passing comment in the hallway.
A quick side conversation in the middle of work.

We move on. Life moves on. And those moments all blend together.

But sometimes they don’t.

Sometimes a phrase lodges itself in someone’s heart.
Sometimes a bit of encouragement becomes confidence and courage. 
And sometimes the words we speak become the moments they hold onto.

God uses ordinary conversations more than we realize.

Not just in sermons, not from stages, and not in loud declarations.

They occur in the everyday moments when we’re simply being who we are.

We don’t get to see what grows very often… and that’s probably a good thing so we don’t slide into our pride and ego.

But every now and then, someone lets you know that something you said mattered.

And when they do, they’re leaving it better too.

Ashley didn’t just remember. She reached back. She took the time to say thank you. And in doing that, she encouraged me!

And it’s a powerful reminder to treat even the smallest conversations with care.

You never really know which words someone will carry with them.