The Stumble, the Stretch, the Safety

My two dearest friends came to stay with us, having just completed ten weeks of total immersion learning te reo Māori.

They knew my whare is a place of inclusion. A place where you can bring your whole self, and feel safe to do so. I had sat alongside them on the marae many times, through joyous times and sad ones. Although not blood, we are sisters of another kind.

We greeted each other in te reo at the door. The kōrero started flowing, fluent and easy, weaving me in as they went. I followed the shape of it, picking out words and phrases and the little gestures they used to keep me included. I loved listening to them like that.

They told me what made those ten weeks work. How the environment held them. How it was safe to speak, safe to get it wrong, safe to be gently corrected and try again.

Something in me sat up. Do I? Don't I?

I knew if there was ever a room where trying wouldn't cost me anything, this was it. So I tried. A few words. A timid phrase or two.

I got things wrong. I felt the old urge to retreat, to go quiet and let them carry the conversation without me. But they didn't let me disappear. They just kept going, responded to what I said, guided me without making it a lesson. It was a conversation, not a correction.

Three things were happening at once that night, and I think they're the same three things behind every real bit of growth.

There was the safety. Ako and whanaungatanga, two words I've long carried close. The relationship where teacher and learner take turns holding the knowledge. The bonds between people that carry it. It wasn't a lesson at my table. It was just us, the same as we've always been together, and the learning slipped in alongside everything else.

There was the stretch. The words and phrases I tried sat just slightly beyond what felt easy, never so far beyond that I froze completely. That's the exact edge where real growth happens, not so easy we're bored, not so hard we shut down.

And there was the stumble. Getting it wrong, out loud, in front of people who mattered to me. That's the uncomfortable bit, the bit most of us spend our whole lives avoiding. But it's also the only way in. You can't get the safety or the stretch without risking the stumble too.

Hold all three at once, safety, stretch, stumble, and that's exactly what real growth looks like. Not just for learning a language. For the hard conversation, the new skill, the creative risk, the leadership moment you haven't stepped into yet.

That's the room I want to build for the people I work with too. Not a lesson. A relationship where it's safe to stumble, safe to stretch, and safe to try again anyway.

Who's holding that kind of space for you? Or who could you be holding it for?

Arohanui
Mary-Anne 😊