“What a mother sings to the cradle goes all the way down to the coffin.”
Henry Ward Beecher
My mother was my first coach.
She always thought twice, once for her three daughters and once for herself.
Her belief in us was unshakable. Her gentle patience, remarkable. Her compassion, a source of strength. Her love, limitless and unconditional.
She was always there for us—forgiving, encouraging, guiding, coaching—no matter what.
When she died suddenly several years ago, I felt guilty for not being there for her, for not fully acknowledging her for teaching me about life and love, for not knowing who she was separate from being my mother. I wore my guilt like a warrior’s shield, trying to protect myself from losses and grief after her death. Eventually, I believed she was truly no longer here.
I was wrong.
Today, I know my mother never left. She is with me still.
The lessons of life and love continue in my many conversations with coaches and coachees.
Her words show up in other people’s mouths. A coach’s presence reminds me of her in some way: her intuitiveness, her stillness, her strength. The way someone describes their relationship with their coach echoes the kind of trust I felt she gave me—a trust that included accepting my choices even when my choices led to unhappiness and failure.
I am proud to be my mother’s daughter.
It is a privilege to become more like her as I grow older.
Being Coached by Shae Hadden is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.
My conversations this week with several high-performing executives weave together desire and humility. Take a sincere desire to learn and grow in service of something greater than yourself. Add the humble wisdom that you need to have someone you can trust showing you what you cannot see about yourself. Shake and stir—and you’ve got a powerful aperitif for coaching.