Slow Down to Lead Forward

December always invites a quieter kind of courage—the kind that asks leaders to stop rushing, stop reacting, and simply pay attention. Productivity doesn’t disappear when we slow down. Wisdom appears.

A few years ago, I had a young nurse—let’s call her Crystal—who came to work trembling more often than not. She was bright, capable, deeply loved by her team, and intuitive in a way you can’t teach. But our progressive care environment is demanding. Patients can turn on a dime. One moment you have a stable rhythm, and the next you’re sprinting toward a rapid response. Add in new documentation expectations, new equipment, new skillsets, and endless “this goes live Monday” changes… it was a lot for her.

She tried to stay optimistic. She talked through options with her teammates, sometimes with me—maybe a doctor’s office, maybe a school, maybe a slower pace somewhere far from the intensity of progressive care. We supported her, gave her grace when she asked for mental health days, reassured her when self-doubt crept in. And still, her stress climbed.

One morning, on my drive to work, the House Supervisor called. Crystal hadn’t shown up. No call. No text. No response. Her closest friends had tried. Leadership had tried. I started dialing too. None of us wanted to say it out loud, but each of us felt it in our chest—fear. Real fear. She had been struggling. She had been honest about it. And silence from someone who doesn’t go silent… it lands differently.

At 09:30 my phone rang. It was her.

Her voice was groggy, apologetic, shaken. Her phone had died the night before. She thought it was charging, fell into a deep sleep, and didn’t realize the cord had come loose. No alarm. No texts. No missed calls—until she plugged it back in. Then her lock screen lit up with a flood of messages.

She said, “I didn’t know I mattered that much.”

That sentence gave me goosebumps (still does).

We hadn’t done anything unusual. We simply cared enough to notice when she wasn’t there. But her reaction reminded me of something I should’ve been doing earlier—slowing down enough to really hear her, really see the strain she was carrying day after day.

So I did the thing that felt right instead of the thing that felt efficient.

I encouraged her to apply to a procedural unit we collaborated with. Better hours. More margin. A learning curve that would stretch her without crushing her. I reached out to the director personally and told her exactly what kind of gem she would be hiring.

Crystal got the job.

She thrived. She healed. And before long, she began picking up occasional shifts on our floor—not because she had to, but because she wanted to. She came back stronger, steadier, clearer about her limits and her gifts. Watching her rebuild confidence was one of the sweetest surprises of my career.

And it taught me something I won’t forget:

If you slow down early, you don’t lose momentum—you prevent loss.

People carry quiet burdens. Some are heavy. Some are hidden. And some are held together by one thin thread.

Leaders don’t have to fix every burden. But we do have to notice.

Slow down. Listen longer. Ask twice. Pay attention to the wobble in someone’s voice or the silence in someone’s morning. When you invest in the betterment of your team—not to keep them for yourself, but to see them flourish—it always finds its way back to you.

And it strengthens everyone in the process.

If this resonated with you, we'd love to walk alongside you as you grow your own team culture—one human moment at a time.

🎧 Listen to the podcast:https://open.spotify.com/episode/7yfgtMAgX9lUWbhpTVVlaG?si=DO9CHWYQSZu-Pa8XlB3reQ