Servant Leadership in Action by Ken Blanchard Renee Broadwell

Author:Ken Blanchard,Renee Broadwell
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Berrett-Koehler Publishers, Inc.
Published: 2018-04-23T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 24

Little Things and Big Things

JON GORDON

When Jon Gordon and I first met, I found out he was a fellow Cornellian. Then I heard him speak and I quickly realized we were more than Cornell brothers—we were kindred hearts. I think you’ll feel the same way after you read his wonderful essay. Neither Jon nor I can think of a more important leadership role than being a parent, which Jon will demonstrate in this essay. What a blessing it is if you had a giving parent or two in your life who set the example for servant leadership. —KB

WHEN I THINK of servant leadership, two images come to mind: Jesus washing the feet of His disciples, and my mom making me a sandwich.

It is written:

So He (Jesus) got up from the supper table, set aside His robe, and put on an apron. Then He poured water into a basin and began to wash the feet of the disciples, drying them with His apron. (John 13:4-5, MSG)

After He had finished washing their feet, He took His robe, put it back on, and went back to His place at the table. Then He said, “Do you understand what I have done to you? You address me as ‘Teacher’ and ‘Master,’ and rightly so. That is what I am. So if I, the Master and Teacher, washed your feet, you must now wash each other’s feet. I’ve laid down a pattern for you. What I’ve done, you do.” (John 13:12-15, MSG)

Jesus felt that no matter what your position is, your role is to serve. That was exactly my mother’s philosophy. Even though she was my mother and I admired her, she was always serving me. She didn’t have a self-serving bone in her body.

Ten years ago, I was taking a walk with my mom near her home in south Florida when I noticed she was getting tired. My mom and I always walked together. She was a fit walking machine who never got tired, so I knew something was wrong.

“Let’s go back to the condo so you can rest,” I said.

“No, I want to walk to the store so I can get some food to make you a sandwich for your drive home,” she said. I was headed back to my home in Ponte Vedra Beach, and my mom thought I might starve to death without eating during the five-hour drive.

“Okay,” I said, knowing she had her mind set. Growing up in a Jewish-Italian family, the one thing you didn’t do was argue with Mom about food. To her, food and love were one and the same.

We continued walking and made it to the supermarket. As we walked back, I could tell she was getting more and more tired. When we arrived back at her condo, she was exhausted—yet the first thing she did was walk into the kitchen and make me a sandwich.

On my drive home, I ate her sandwich but didn’t think much about it at the time. Now, ten years later, I think about that sandwich a lot because it was the last time I saw my mom alive.

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