Reflections on Connection-Centered Leadership - Issue No. 23: The Power of Saying "Yes!" on an Ordinary Day

Featured: Melissa Swonger, Erica Elliott, Hanna Olivas, Sophie Olivas, Dusty Simmers, and others

She talked me into another one. I told her. I told my husband. I hate networking. The twenty-something in me who walked out of the prestigious ad agency, saying, "I don't care who eats what pizza!" has always been uncomfortable with performative, transactional relationships. And all these years later, it's still true.

"You're so good at it!" They insist. Really? I can't do small talk to save my life. My specialty lies in deep dives, and sometimes more than is socially acceptable. Ok, often more than is socially acceptable. The desire to be known and know others is fundamental to our need for connection.

This is true whether you're an introvert or an extrovert. I remember my seminary mentor, Dr. Rodney Cooper. He was tall with a booming voice and a hearty laugh. He kept us in rapt attention when teaching and closed the relational gap when advising, yet he tried to convince all of us he was an introvert. What? No way. He was known for many public-facing roles requiring networking and speaking. Psst...I've learned a lot since then, and much from him.

I attended another networking event recently. I'm ambiverted, but when it comes to large events, it's a weird dichotomy. I think...or used to think, I would hate them. The awkward pause when no one knows how to extend the conversation about the weather, the Knicks, or the food. I know. I know! I'm a qualitative researcher and a podcast host! But that's it, in those moments I'm* supposed* to ask deep questions!

If I'm honest, networking has never been my favorite activity. A group of people who don't know each other gather through an investment of time, energy, and often money, with no guarantee of return. We exchange introductions, make small talk, and try to determine where we fit within an unfamiliar room.

But somewhere along the umteenth event, I had my own mind shift. I zoomed out and reframed the moment. As I looked around the room, I found myself reflecting on something that has become increasingly obvious over the years. Most of the people who changed my life were strangers first.

That sounds self-evident when written on paper. Every friendship, mentorship, partnership, and marriage begins with two people who do not know one another. Yet when we walk into unfamiliar spaces, many of us focus on the discomfort rather than the possibility. We wonder whether we belong, whether anyone will talk to us, or whether the event will be worth our time.

What we cannot see is which conversation may matter later.

Some of the most significant opportunities in my life arrived through introductions that initially seemed unremarkable. A brief conversation led to another conversation. A shared mission created common ground. Over time, trust developed and relationships formed. Looking back, I can trace many meaningful opportunities, collaborations, friendships, and even those who have ushered in seasons of personal growth to moments that seemed ordinary at the time.

Sociologist Mark Granovetter described part of this phenomenon through the concept of the strength of weak ties. His research demonstrated that many opportunities emerge not through our closest relationships but through acquaintances who move within circles different from our own. Those weaker ties often provide access to new information, resources, and perspectives that would otherwise remain outside our field of view. Such as those made through networking.

In many ways, that is the value of social capital. It creates bridges between people who otherwise may never have crossed paths and expands our awareness of possibilities that might have remained outside our field of view.

But I have also come to believe that social capital is only the beginning. A handshake can create access. It cannot create trust. An introduction can create awareness. It cannot create belonging. Those things are built differently. They develop through consistency, shared experiences, mutual investment, and time. They emerge when people move beyond what they can gain from one another and begin investing together in something larger than themselves.

This is the missing link of connection, and that is where social capital begins to translate into relational capital. As I have reflected on this distinction, I have found myself thinking about a passage in Hebrews. The writer encourages believers not to forsake assembling together, but to encourage one another (Heb. 10:25). For years, I primarily interpreted that passage through the lens of church attendance. More recently, I have wondered if it reflects something much deeper about how we were designed.

Human flourishing has never been an individual endeavor.

Long before researchers began studying belonging, social support, and community, Scripture recognized that people were made for connection; we need one another.

We celebrate independence in our culture. We admire self-sufficiency. We often wear busyness as a badge of honor and convince ourselves that needing others is somehow a sign of weakness. At the same time, loneliness continues to rise.

People report feeling disconnected despite having more ways to communicate than any previous generation. We can accumulate followers, connections, and contacts, garnering visibility, while still feeling profoundly unseen.

Perhaps that is because access, acquaintances, and belonging are not the same thing. One opens doors. The other gives us people to walk through them with.

When I think about the people who have shaped my life most deeply, none of them arrived with a sign announcing their future significance. They entered my life as ordinary people during ordinary moments. A teacher. A mentor. A colleague. A friend. Eventually, each became part of a larger story.

I had no way of knowing when I met Erica that we would launch Mind Shifts Lab (www.mindshiftslab.com). I didn't know our paths would be so aligned that business feels like an extension of our friendship. I had no way of knowing that a small event where the date was mixed up, so only a handful of us met, would end up with one of the most creative collaborations for our podcast. I didn't know that saying yes to an awkward (to me) "Souper Salad" event would lead me to the mentor who would help reparent my inner child and accompany me on a healing and transformational journey spanning more than 20 years. And on and on...it's the magic of "Yes!" on an ordinary day.

Last week's newsletter explored what my husband and I call the suffering gap. We discussed how adaptation often requires us to move through discomfort before we experience growth. As I have reflected on that idea, I realize relationships often require the same thing.

There is discomfort in showing up.

There is discomfort in introducing yourself.

There is discomfort in risking rejection, vulnerability, and uncertainty.

Yet many of the relationships that shape our lives exist on the other side of that discomfort.

The older I get, the less interested I am in collecting contacts and the more interested I am in cultivating meaningful relationships. Social capital may create opportunity, but relational capital is what sustains us through both success and adversity.

Perhaps that is one reason we are admonished not to withdraw from one another.

Perhaps encouragement requires proximity.

Perhaps belonging requires our participation.

Perhaps some of what we are looking for cannot be discovered alone.

The questions I'm sitting with this week are these:

Have you become so focused on protecting your time, energy, or comfort that you've unintentionally isolated yourself from meaningful connection?

Who was once a stranger that ultimately changed the trajectory of your life?

And finally, is there a room, conversation, invitation, or opportunity you've been avoiding because you've already decided it won't matter or would be too uncomfortable?

— Melissa, Architect of Connection-Centered Leadership The Sage Hill Project

Let's Celebrate: We invite YOU to share who is radically kind in your area. These are little actions that consistently create space for others with dignity, restraint, and patience. It can also be profound moments when someone walks in when the rest of the world walks out. If you have observed someone else being radically kind, share it via email, DM, or "Get in Touch!" on our website, and we will recognize them on the wall. Texts (quotes when applicable; shortened when necessary) or pictures that are sent will be on "Laura's Page." We're building a different kind of Wall of Fame, one for the world changers.