Keyword: leadership

  • Born For This

    “Born For This” by Jason Kotecki. 12 x 12. Oil on canvas.
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    The Wright Brothers were the first to fly, but they weren’t the first to try.

    Not by a long shot.

    For more than fifty years, humans had been actively working on the problem (after thousands of years of dreaming about it). Many brave people tried for years in vain, often at the cost of their very lives. Most considered it impossible.

    But when the Wright Brothers succeeded, they became a match that lit the way forward.

    They shared the joy of flying with others. In his first public demonstrations in Europe, Wilbur would take a passenger into the air with him. The brothers also eagerly trained new pilots. Soon after their success, countless others followed, and in short order, aviation boomed across the world.

    After fifty years of collective failure, the work and the example of the brothers opened the floodgates. Orville himself lived to see aviation transformed by jet propulsion, the introduction of the rocket, and the breaking of the sound barrier in 1947. On July 20, 1969, when Neil Armstrong, another American born and raised in western Ohio, stepped onto the moon, he carried with him, in tribute to the Wright brothers, a small swatch of the muslin from a wing of their 1903 Flyer.

    It reminds me of another pioneer named Roger Bannister, who was the first to run a mile in less than four minutes. People said it couldn’t be done. Doctors suggested you could die in the process of even attempting it. And yet after Bannister proved it was possible, Australian John Landy did it himself just six weeks later.

    You can just do things.

    But sometimes we need someone to show us a something can be done for us to believe we can do it ourselves.

    One family Kim and I knew before having children was a match that sparked our own belief that we could travel with kids. Our daughter Lucy ended up on 34 flights before her first birthday.

    And all the homeschooling parents we encountered who had raised successful children doing amazing things in the world were matches that gave us the confidence that maybe would could, too.

    What if someone is waiting for you to be the example they need?

    You and me, we’re like matches.

    A match is not made to sit in a box, unlit, forever. It was designed to create a fire, but not one kept to itself.

    You were made with specific talents to achieve a specific purpose. Part of that purpose in life is to make a difference in the lives of others. And just like a match, you get one shot. You have to give it your all.

    Of course, it’s scary!

    You have the option to embrace the status quo, like the other matches in this painting, preferring comfort and protecting themselves. But they are not fulfilling their potential.

    That is not why they were made.

    If God planted a dream in your heart, you have the moral imperative to chase it. Because your example might be exactly what someone else needs to achieve theirs.

    Your spark can enflame and bring life to others.

    As St. Catherine of Siena said, “Be who God meant you to be and you will set the world on fire.”

    You were born for this.

  • The Monarch

    “The Monarch” by Jason Kotecki. 40 x 60. Oil on canvas.
    Original is SOLD 🔴 Shop this art!

    His name was Joel, but I called him Mr. Dawson. He was one of the best leaders I’ve ever known.

    On the surface, Mr. Dawson was just a regular guy who coached youth baseball. But he was kind, humble, and strong, albeit not in the “benchpress dump trucks” sort of way. A rare autoimmune disease took several fingers on one hand. But he was able to balance a baseball with it while holding a bat with his other hand. During practice, he’d carefully toss the ball upwards and whack it with the bat in the direction of a fielder.

    When I played Little League, he managed an opposing team, but his vote helped me land on the all-star team. He became my coach after drafting me when I turned thirteen and moved up to Junior League. I was an occasional pitcher. My fastball wasn’t very fast, and I didn’t have a curveball, but I kept the ball over the plate. The good news is I rarely walked anyone, but the bad news is batters usually salivate at the prospect of facing someone who throws slow and straight. 

    The back of my baseball card was not impressive.

    Perhaps not surprisingly, I’d never been the winning pitcher of a game. I could claim it was because the teams I pitched for were never that good, but then again, neither was I. For some unknown reason, Mr. Dawson decided to make it his mission that season to get me a win. It took a while, but somehow, his persistent belief in me sank in. I actually started believing it was possible. I don’t even remember the score of the game when it finally happened, but I do remember the feeling. I remember his proud smile. 
    And I remember being happier for him than I was for myself.

    That’s what the best leaders do: believe in people. 

    Oftentimes, those people don’t believe in themselves. Sometimes it’s for a good reason, and sometimes it’s the natural result of not having anyone in your life who does. But the good leaders see a spark. Heck, maybe the spark doesn’t even exist, but their belief that it does is so convincing, it’s as if they are somehow able to will it into existence. 

    This painting was inspired by C.S. Lewis’s character, Aslan, the Christ-like figure in The Chronicles of Narnia. It’s a great image of the best kind of leader: brave but vulnerable. He’s confident in knowing what he’s about, but kind enough to welcome the lowliest creatures into his friendship and protection. Malcolm Forbes said, “You can easily judge the character of a man by how he treats those who can do nothing for him.” 

    People are fragile beings, like the butterflies in this painting. I sure was when I was thirteen, a shy, skinny kid with oversized glasses playing on a team stocked with much better athletes, trying to figure out who he was and what he had to offer. 

    The best leaders walk with us out of our past and into our future, accompanying us from who we’ve been to who we can be. We all need people like that in our lives. If someone believes in you, consider yourself lucky. And take them at their word, even if you can’t yet see what they see.

    Mr. Dawson died too soon from cancer shortly after I moved on to high school, more complications of his condition. By then a close friend of the family, I saw him face his final battle and the unknown of the next life with bravery and good humor. 

    Sometimes in life, we are the butterflies. We are fragile and need to believe the people who care about us are right when they tell us they see greatness within us.

    Sometimes in life, we are the lion.

    We are called to be leaders who seek out the lost, the young, the weak, and the forgotten. Our job is to look for the good in them, believing in them as long as it takes until they can see it for themselves. 

    Thanks, Mr. Dawson.