What Wreath Making Taught Me about Resilient Teams

I fumbled over the wires, my fingers stained a dark, mossy green. Why was this not taking shape? I wondered as I glanced around at the various works-in-progress.

Maybe I am short on spruce?

Maybe I should have trimmed these limbs to be shorter?

An onslaught of should's and could's crowded me in greater fervor than shopping malls on Black Fridays of old.

The excitement from the opening of the evening social began to ebb behind the growing energy that started at the center of my chest and now found its way to my piney hands: anxiousness.

Have you been there? That point of tension between That sounds like a good idea and Why did I think this was a good idea?

It's disorienting to say the least. In worse situations, it's downright disheartening.

To be caught in the sticky, messy point of implementation, too far into something to start over yet nowhere near the desired outcome ⸺ I am there more often than I tend to admit to myself or others.

But I think disorientation should be admitted more regularly.

Laughter is a deposit for future droughts. It is a concept that a former mentor introduced to me while I studied organizational communication and team dynamics.

What my mentor illustrated distinguished between teams that collaborated well and teams that harbored contempt. This distinguishing factor that led teams through a moment of disorientation and actually grew from it: appreciation.

Team is a big deal for us at the Resilient Communities Center. We believe it takes healthy community to invest toward healthy communities. So, social gatherings are a staple on our events calendar to appreciate the qualities of those with whom we share a workspace.

Consistency is of greater importance than the amount, especially depending on the make-up of your team. For our team, this looks like quarterly socials in some combination of a hike, a birthday bonanza, brunches, and year-end activities.

This year included wreath making. It was my first time participating in this sappy social, but wreath making taught me several additional qualities needed for resilient teams.

Wreath making taught me that resilient teams take inspiration, laughter, and a guide.

Instructions for wreath making provided by Each Day Florals.

Inspiration

Like most projects, wreath making takes some inspiration. Influencers. Exploration. Observation. These are all outlets for sparking creativity.

For you the reader, stumbling across this post might serve as a moment of inspiration for what a team might be. (Like, scheduling a social to enliven team dynamics.)

As much as our culture applauds the capacity of our inner worlds, self-awareness is only one piece to the web of healthy dynamics within a team. Healthy dynamics also take outside input.

Disorientation is not only a character for the second act. Sometimes, it is part of the opening lines to a story. At the beginning of the wreath-making workshop, disorientation arrived as I grabbed a table strewn with stenciled instructions, snips, wire, a glass of liquid encouragement, and strangers beckoned by fellow colleagues or friends.

Then, I was shown a finished project. Possibilities. Oh, they are wonderful. Suddenly the pieces to this holiday puzzle feel achievable. They take shape.

And I get to work, for How hard can it be?

Only as hard as my grip on a perfect outcome.

Laughter

Laughter is contagious. Between the function of mirror neurons and happy hormones, aka endorphines, contagious laughter drives social bonds.

But here is the thing about laughter: It requires vulnerability.

I will speak for myself here: I fail to pay attention to those around me when all is silhouetted behind the problem before me. My body, in response to an extended period of stress, begins to divert all of its energy and attention to the source of this, for lack of better words, pain. For, to my body, this stress is a pain and the thorn to my otherwise idealized evening.

As my energy is diverted to re-reading the inspiring instructions for the umpteenth time and retying the bunches of evergreen, I also divert away from those around me. And, if I am not aware of those around me, I most assuredly will miss the chorus of laughter. Even more so, I will miss that this laughter occurs over the same missteps and redos I am making.

Or is this just me? The dialing down of peripheral energy might be, but responding in a way that breaks down social engagement probably is not.

Your body might not divert energy. It might increase energy and manifest as anger at the coworker who invited you to this project. It might seek to dispel this energy in the form of blame at the unrealistic expectations set.

Regardless, focusing solely on the task at hand harbors disconnect. Disconnect and disorientation are mean bedfellows.

This is the illustration my mentor conveyed through the idea of depositing laughter within your teams. Team dynamics include seasons of drought, whether they are financial cuts, strain from projects hitting roadblocks, or the unexpected loss of team members.

In those moments, the first response often doubles down on the task at hand. Sweat, blood, and tears, as they say.

But laughter draws your gaze back up to those around you.

Laughter has a way to recalibrate the energy in your body, the emotions and sensations doing their work to keep you aware and safe. Laughter also helps downplay the perfection you set for yourself. Because, true, contagious laughter itself is messy, uncontrollable and not too concerned about expectations.

It just wants to be shared.

To appreciate does not downplay what is not working. It simply chooses to not let the problem be the sole actor on the stage.

A Guide

Great, Lane. Thanks for this. But my project is a little more important than a wreath. You might be thinking this, and I get it. It is true. The task still matters. It always has. Orienting solely around a task just is not the only thing that matters.

The people around you matter. The task matters. And your formation to better approach and engage your team and this task matters.

The reality is, we are all works in progress. From office holders in the C-suite down to summer interns, our position does not position ourselves outside room to grow.

Somewhere after inspiration, I forgot that this was my first time making a wreath. Laughter reminded me, and so I sought a guide. I reached out to the workshop instructor who pumps out wreaths in less than 30-minutes and can scour the countryside for new materials all while commuting Atlanta traffic.

What was new to her at one time is now muscle memory. And it can be for me too ⸺ just not today.

What is your first time? Is this your first time taking on summer interns? Your first time dealing with a termination? Your first time receiving a large grant with key stipulations that will stretch how you historically have reported projects?

What would it look like to honor this being your first time?

For our team of coaches at the Resilient Communities Center, we appreciate guiding groups who find themselves for the first time engaging people who are socially or spiritually on the margins, or groups who for the first time find themselves at a crossroads with their projects, their metrics, or their program design. We take an appreciative approach that honors your team, your growth, and your task, and support you in applying similar principles to redress and adapt to how you engage the well-being of the communities you serve.

Our greatest joy is like that of the instructor on this night of wreath making: Seeing people try, make connections, and walk away with a finished project that will not be their last, but one still worth sharing.

We are all works-in-progress.