This year, the theme for the LEA Team is ‘Reflecting Hope Together’.
Hope doesn’t usually shout.
It tends to show up quietly.
It shows up in classrooms before the bell goes. In conversations that begin with, “Are you okay?” and don’t rush the answer. It shows up when people keep turning up , even when things feel heavy, uncertain, or unfinished.
Across Lutheran Education, I see hope reflected every day. Not as a big idea, but as a lived one. In educators who notice the student who needs a bit more time. In leaders who choose courage over convenience. In communities who hold one another, especially when there are no easy fixes.
This theme is a reminder that hope isn’t something we carry on our own. It’s something we share. Something we borrow from one another when our own feels thin. And something that grows when we stay connected.
Paul puts it this way:
May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit. (Romans 15:13)
I love that image of overflowing with hope. Not striving for it. Not forcing it. But being filled, again and again, by a God who keeps showing up. And then letting that hope spill out into the way we teach, lead, listen, and care.
Thank you for the many ways you reflect hope (often quietly, always faithfully) in the places you serve. Lutheran Schools and early learning centres are in the business of hope. We do this work together. And together, hope keeps finding its way.
The Balcony
Recently, I was speaking with a principal of one of our schools and they were telling me about how they meet with a group of people on the balcony every Friday afternoon (and maybe well into the evening!). This group of people are from a wide professional circle, not just education. It got me thinking about the concept of gathering on a balcony.
When we gather together on a balcony, we get perspective.
We can see further than we can from the ground.
We notice patterns, movement, and connections we’d miss up close.
We see the bigger story, not just our own piece of it.
A balcony lets us pause. To breathe. To listen.
We can feel the air change, hear the hum of life below, and remember that we’re part of something wider than ourselves.
And when we’re there together, something shifts.
We borrow each other’s sight.
Someone points out what we hadn’t noticed.
Another names what they’re grateful for, or hopeful about, or worried about and suddenly it’s shared.
On a balcony, we’re not rushing or fixing.
We’re watching. Wondering. Reflecting.
It’s a place for perspective and connection a place where we can step back, stand side by side, and see what might be possible next.
So, my encouragement to us all who serve and lead in our schools and early learning centres, take the time to gather with people on the balcony (or your version of it). It is important for our sense of self and well-being.