Curiosity vs. Being Right — Part 2

I wrote about choosing curiosity over being right.
And within 24 hours… I chose being right.

Earlier this week, I wrote about remaining curious instead of giving in to the desire to be right.

And then, almost immediately…

I found myself in a situation where I lost curiosity entirely
and only wanted to be right.

So let’s talk about it.

Because if all I do here is write as if I’ve arrived—
as if I’ve mastered the things I’m talking about—
then I’m not being honest.

I may have started this blog this year,

but I’ve been writing for a long time.

Before this, my writing mostly stayed within weekly emails to my staff.
They were—and still are—my first readers.

And something used to happen almost every single time:

Whatever I wrote about…
I would be tested on that exact thing that same week.

If I wrote about patience—my patience would be pushed.
If I wrote about grace—I’d be forced to choose between grace and justice.

It never failed.

It happened so often that I almost stopped writing altogether.

Because I didn’t feel strong enough
to put something out into the world
and then immediately be put in a position
where people might wonder if I actually live it.

Because let’s be honest…

What we think about,
what we speak about,
what we put out into the world—
has a way of showing back up.

I posted that essay on Monday.
It was well received.

And then Tuesday…

I walked into a work situation that left me emotionally drained.

And instead of pausing—
instead of taking a breath—
I reacted.

I called a meeting.
I moved quickly.
And I let my emotions lead.

I spoke truth.
I stayed composed.
I was direct.

But I was also angry.

My blood pressure was high.
My chest was tight.
I could feel it in my body.

And here’s the thing:

It’s not that I said anything wrong.

In fact…
I was right.

But I was not curious.

This isn’t about the words I said.
It’s not about whether I handled it “correctly.”

This is about something deeper.

It’s about the posture of my heart.

Because being angry isn’t wrong.
And in this case, my anger made sense.

But I didn’t walk into that meeting to restore.

I walked in to make sure my anger was felt.

And that matters.

This is hard for me to write.

Because my staff might read this.
My friends. My family.

But I said I would show up authentically here.

So this is me—
showing up without pretending I nailed it.

After the meeting, several people told me I handled it well.

That I was firm but not unkind.
That what I was feeling didn’t spill out in a damaging way.

And I’m grateful for that.

Truly.

But this isn’t about how it looked.

It’s about what was underneath it.

And underneath it…
there was no curiosity.

There was no grace.

As a manager, I am responsible for holding people accountable.
For addressing behavior.
For protecting the children in our care.
For leading well.

But as a person who loves the Lord,
I’m also called to lead with love.

To give grace.
To restore when possible.

And sometimes leadership requires hard things—

Sometimes I have to discipline.
Sometimes I have to correct.
Sometimes I even have to let someone go.

But the moment I stop caring how I do those things—
the moment I move from loving correction
to anger-driven correction—

That’s the moment I need to pause
and check myself.

Because controlling my tone is not the same as leading with love.

I wrote this earlier this week:

“Right without love is just criticism.”
“Right without curiosity is just opposition.”
“Right has never improved anything without love attached to it.”

And then I had to live it.

Or fail at it.

And this week…
I didn’t fully live it.

The posture of my heart has to be love first.

And if it isn’t—
then I’m not ready for that conversation yet.

Yes, there are moments in leadership that require immediate action.

But the moments that allow for pause—
the ones where I get to choose between

grace or justice,
curiosity or being right,
love or frustration—

those are the moments that matter most.

And those are the moments I owe it to others—
and to myself—
to get right.

This week, I chose rightness over curiosity.

And that doesn’t make me wrong.

But it does make me aware.

And awareness—
not perfection—
is the goal.