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Every Little Thing by April Jeppson

I’m home from vacation and doing my best to dig out from under all the things. You know that feeling — when you’re starting to get your groove back, seeing the light at the end of the inbox, and then BAM. Life says, “Oh hey, surprise project!”

Normally, I try to protect my time. I’ve gotten pretty good at taking a breath, evaluating whether I have the bandwidth for something new, and, when needed, saying,

“Thanks, but I just can’t take this on right now.” Growth! Boundaries! Look at me go!

But this time was different.

This time, the opportunity had the potential to save my organization tens of thousands of dollars. It was a gift, in the most literal sense. A facility downsized and offered us high-quality fitness equipment. If we wanted it, we had to act fast and figure out how to get it to our building. And while the logistics were anything but simple, the decision was.

You don’t turn down a gift like this.

Thankfully, I was able to hire movers for the really heavy stuff (thank you Helping Hands!), but that didn’t mean I was off the hook. Over the past couple of weeks, I’ve been loading up my minivan (and other employees’ trucks) with chairs, tables, ladders, janitorial supplies … you name it. I’ve become weirdly skilled at Tetris-ing a folding table into a tight corner and making it fit just so.

I’ve worn sneakers every single day, and today I’m not even pretending to dress up. I probably smell faintly of sweat and Lysol wipes at this point, but we’re getting it done.

I’ve still kept up with my usual work, mostly. But this project forced me to get clear on what had to happen now and what could wait a few days. In some ways, it was the reset I didn’t know I needed. I made a comment early on that I didn’t want to spend too much of my time on this, and someone gently reminded me: In this case, this was the best use of my time. They were right.

This is the work.

Running a nonprofit means wearing every hat. It means going from grant writing to grocery shopping for an event, from strategic planning to strategic heavy lifting (and schlepping). It means showing up, even when you’re tired and have other things to do.

It also means being a steward, of donations, of opportunities and most importantly, of trust. When someone thinks of us and offers what they have, whether it’s time, money, equipment or a box of five mop heads, it matters. It matters a lot.

Fred Rogers once said, “Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping.” I see them everywhere, loading trucks, writing checks, offering encouragement and showing up. They remind me why I do this work. They remind me that sweatpants are perfectly acceptable leadership attire when the moment calls for it.

So yes, I’m tired. I’m sore. But I’m also thankful. Because this, sweaty, scrappy, seat-of-our-pants problem solving, is the heart of what we do.

And I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

Albert Lean April Jeppson is a wife, mom, coach and encourager of dreams. Her column appears every Saturday.