How to Honor Everyone You’ve Been

• Reflect on all forms of nurturing, including self-compassion

• Our past selves planted seeds that bloom into our present strength

• Honoring our journey requires acknowledging both struggles and growth

• Self-parenting creates space for authenticity and powerful leadership

Mirror Mantra

This Mother's Day, I found myself drawn to a poem I found in Melinda Gates's writing. It’s by Maia, from her book When the Waves Come: 

i hope

when you come home to yourself

there are flowers lining the front porch

that were left from all the women

you were before

Gates writes that she thinks about the poem in two ways: “”as a reminder that, wherever we are in life, we should find a way to look back at the versions of ourselves who came before us not with shame or regret but with tenderness and compassion.” Second, “it also invites us to consider who we are now through the eyes of our younger selves. In that regard, it’s not hard for me to imagine the woman I was back then lovingly delivering flowers to my porch to celebrate that I’m finally as confident and as comfortable in my own skin as she wished she could be.” 

I've been thinking about these lines in relation to parenting—not just the traditional sense, but the profound act of nurturing growth in all its forms. How we nurture our teams, our projects, our communities... and perhaps most importantly, ourselves.

The most transformative leadership lesson I've learned didn't come from a business school or executive retreat. It came from recognizing that each version of myself through the years was planting seeds that would eventually bloom—that I was growing into someone that my younger self could be proud of. The medical resident working 36-hour shifts, the nervous first-time executive presenting to a board of directors, the leader finding her voice in rooms where she was the only woman of color—each left flowers that have made my current self possible.

Yet how often do we look back at those earlier versions of ourselves with criticism rather than gratitude? We see the mistakes, the hesitations, the compromises, but miss the courage, resilience, and wisdom that were quietly taking root.

In boardrooms where I now sit confidently as chair, I sometimes think about that younger me who would have been intimidated by the very seat I occupy, but worked so hard to get me here. She deserves my tenderness and gratitude, not my judgment. Without her willingness to step into uncomfortable spaces, I wouldn't be where I am today.

This perspective shift doesn't happen overnight. It's a practice, one that I continue to cultivate daily. But I've found that this kind of "self-parenting" creates a foundation from which authentic leadership can truly flourish. Read more about it here.

What flowers might you find on your own front porch, left by all the women you were before?

Practice Self-Parenting

This week, I invite you to practice "self-parenting"—treating yourself with care that allows for both growth and acceptance.

Choose a photo of yourself from an earlier stage of your career—perhaps during a challenging transition or when you were stepping into a new role. Looking at this image, write a brief letter of appreciation to this version of yourself. What would you want her to know about her strengths? What seeds was she planting that would grow into a version of you she couldn't yet see?

This simple practice helps bridge the gap between who we were and who we've become, fostering the self-compassion that's essential for authentic leadership.

Keep shining, 

Sheila