When Doing Less Means Being More: A New Perspective

If there’s one thing I’ve learned this week, it’s this:
I can do less and still be enough.

That truth didn’t arrive wrapped in gold—it came through fatigue. With exhaustion. Heavy in weariness while staring at a deadline. Through holy work done with heavy eyes and an open heart. Specifically, while nominating my good sis, Bridgette Picou, for the Frank Lamendola Achievement Award for Nursing Leadership in HIV Care. And baby—she deserves every single flower.

I wanted to write the most eloquent, soul-stirring, ground-shaking nomination this world has ever seen. But baby I was– I am!– tiyard. Not just sleepy, but stretched thin. Yet even in that exhaustion, I wrote from my gut, from my spirit, from that deep well of truth God placed in me. And I asked myself:

The answer came back swift and clear: No. Let it be what it is. Trust that it is good. Trust that what is is enough.

The lesson I learned while submitting her nomination? It doesn’t need to be at the upper end of the limit to call it good enough. i can do less and still be enough. what a powerful lesson!

Because much like we must redefine “success”, especially as Black women, we must also define “enough”.
Enough is acknowledging our limits and honoring them.
Enough is showing up with presence over perfection– a myth that doesn’t even exist.
Enough is giving what’s required, not what’s expected.
And enough—when you carry a spirit of excellence like Bridgette and I do—is more than most.

We, as women of color and children of the Most High God, have to know when it’s time to labor and when it’s time to lay it down. When to rise up and when to be still. When to speak and when to listen—not to the noise of the world, but to that still, small voice within. The one that whispers with clarity and power: “This is the way. Walk in it.“

It takes intention to hear that voice. Trust to obey it. Courage to trust it. And on this weary day, I trusted it. I honored my friend and myself by choosing presence over pressure. Spirit over striving. And when I read what I wrote about Bridgette, a lump entered my throat and tears welled in the corner of my eyes—because even my 25% carried glory. It carried truth.

Here are the final words of nomination:

Bridgette doesn’t just contribute to the field—she encourages it and dares it to evolve. She raises the standard in every room she enters while remaining grounded in purpose. She continues part-time nursing in an HIV research clinic, not for recognition, but to stay connected to the heartbeat of what has always mattered most: people.

And while these words may feel lofty, I wonder if they even begin to capture the magnitude of her work—the depth, the reach, the audacity of it—that fearless, boundary-breaking boldness that dares to create what didn’t exist before. Bridgette isn’t only worthy of this honor—she is, without question, the one most deserving of it.

So now, I exhale.
Now, I rest.
Now, I celebrate.

Celebrate Bridgette. Celebrate me. Celebrate us— all of us who serve from the margins, speak from the gut, and lead from the soul. And if you don’t know Bridgette yet, go ahead and bless yourself by reading about her brilliance in Poz magazine’s Be the Light article.

We are not always loud, but we are mighty.
We are not always seen, but we are sovereign.
We are not always at the front, but we are always walking in purpose.

A Prayer for the Bold and Courageous

God,
Thank You for Bridgette and other dynamos like her. For those of us who show up boldly, who speak with fire, and who lead with love. Thank You for calling us to the sacred work of serving those without a voice—of becoming the voice for the voiceless, and even more, teaching them to speak. To speak with love, precision, truth. Thank You for the holy assignment of restoring dignity where it was stolen, for reminding us that every soul carries worth, every story deserves honor.

Help us love.
Not just in word, but in action. In posture. In presence.
You created us by love, in love, for love, to love.
May we give it freely. Receive it boldly.
Hold it gently.
Honor it deeply.
Cherish it fully.
And bask in it as the divine, sacred gift and covering that it is.

Let our enough-ness never be questioned. Let our rest never feel wasteful.
Let us remember that even when we give less, You still do more.
And may the work we do—seen or unseen—be soaked in Your glory.

And so it is. It is done. Amen.