Last Monday was a day of contrasts for me – all day I knew the night ahead would be difficult. Eloise my youngest daughter was flying out of Australia to London by herself to start two months of adventure.

I know she is on a number of tours and will meet nice people but seeing her throughout the day getting ready, packing and arranging her travel documents made me realize that the day had come when I would have to let her go.

This is her dream. She took a gap year, worked and saved hard to make this trip possible. In fact for the past three months she worked for me as my Executive Assistant. Our relationship has always been close but working together just made me know that I would miss her that little bit more.

I had to smile at people’s advice to me – well meaning but usually from people who have never had to put their youngest daughter on a plane by herself. It didn’t really concern me when their rather cliché advice seemed to trivialize my emotion.

Yet deep down I knew this was Eloise’s dream. Others had said they would go with her overseas but in the end it was just her. She went alone. That night at the airport the father’s heart wanted to ask her all the necessary questions but I knew this would only cause her to know that I was indeed worried about her. I hugged her and for a moment didn’t want to let her go – told her I love her, knowing those words didn’t begin to convey the depth of my feelings for her.

As she walked towards the departure gate and out of sight I was missing her already. Yet at that moment I knew letting go, although hard, is what life is all about. The bird leaves the nest and flies. That’s what you raised her and trained her to do. Pursue her dream.

Eloise is brave beyond measure – this is her dream and she is pursuing it with all her might. Knowing that makes letting go a little easier I think.

Recently I read a poem ‘In Blackwater Woods’ by Mary Oliver which for me captures the difficulty and yet significance of letting go those we love

“To live in this world you must be able to do three things:

To love what is mortal;

To hold it against your bones knowing your own life depends on it;

And, when the times comes to let it go,

To let it go.”

My friend Nancy Beach who farewelled her daughter who was also going overseas said this about the occasion and I think I will adopt her words as my own – “God help me to risk loving deeply knowing that inevitably, times come when I have to let go of those I love the most…”

Recently I read a thought provoking passage from an Essay written by former British PM Tony Blair in which he said – “The real test of leadership – amongst all the tests of policy, judgement, politics and ability – is whether, in the final analysis, you put the country first; that ultimately you are prepared to put what you perceive to be the common good of the nation before your own political self. It is the supreme test. Very few leaders pass it.”

Now I know that he is referring to political leadership but the principle he is espousing applies to all leadership situations. And to be honest I agree with him, that it is my experience, that ‘very few leaders pass it’.

Leaders in any situation are called to make decisions that are for the common good of the organization that they represent. Those decisions are often swayed by a number of factors. One of which is always self. How will this decision affect me? It takes an exceptional leader to ruthlessly go beyond self and purely concentrate on one factor – what is good for the organization as a whole.

This type of leadership takes raw courage. Usually even with the best communication possible to attempt to explain the decision one cannot get the true reason for the decision to everyone affected.

Hence leader’s popularity sways. The leader becomes unpopular – loses friends and makes ones enemies even more bold and vocal. The ability for people to make their opposition visible by ‘leaving’ the organization only makes the leader’s decision far more difficult.

It is interesting that former USA President George W Bush is not doing what all former Presidents have done and writing his memoirs but is writing a book explaining the key and somewhat controversial decisions of his term office.

I have discovered that leadership is often making decisions that, if right, will eventually be proven to be correct but at the time the pain of that decision can be almost too much to bear. Ultimately not everyone is happy with the decision – again, because people are so subjective about how the decision affects them personally.

Leadership is weighing up what is the common good for the organization and then in the loneliness of leadership itself, making the decision knowing encouragement and brickbats will come your way.

Yet one thing provides comfort – it is when you as a leader rests your head on the pillow that night, it is with a clear conscious. The common good has been meet and you as a leader have had the courage to evoke it.

It caught my attention a little by surprise to be honest – I overheard someone ask ‘Who are your heroes?’ I was surprised by my reaction because as a history buff I can recite the heroes. Those leaders that changed the course of history and made a difference always come to my mind.

Yet instead of those people some other names came to mind. Perhaps I am influenced by my recent visit to China but here are my heroes – I won’t use their last names – Kyla, Alison, Karen, Anna, Justin, Lisa and Samantha. ‘Who?’ I hear you say if you don’t recognize those names?

Perhaps that’s the point – they are not known to the millions, not the latest conference speakers, not the material for books or magazine articles although they should be, not materially wealthy, not corporate flyers, they don’t speak and influence huge crowds – well you know what I mean?

They are a group of people who have given their lives to leave their country of birth, their homes, their families, their comforts, their opportunities for wealth and privilege in order to make the lives of disabled orphans enhanced. Day after day – year after year – that is what they do. No self seeking publicity, no self promotion, no power tantrums and each of them would be embarrassed at the slightest mention of the tag hero.

Are heroes those among us who dedicate their lives to the enrichment of another’s life without the expectation of reward or recognition? Usually unrecognizable faces in the crowd who you would pass without even noticing? There is a vast army of them out there – far more than the self indulgent celebrity army.

So to Kyla, Alison, Karen, Anna, Justin, Lisa and Samantha and the many other heroes that live quietly in the shadows enjoying their hidden status let me say thank you. You inspire me, you humble me and you motivate me greatly. Your unassuming modestly and humility is a virtue worth aspiring to.

Your selflessness draws me from the limelight into the shadows.

Your capacity to serve others propels me to my knees with a towel and bowl of water in hand.

Your reluctance for self promotion drives me to hiddenness.

You are indeed my heroes! Thank you!

Some twenty-seven years later I can see and remember clearly, as if it was yesterday, the scene before me. It was the night of the 29^th of August 1983 and it had been a memorable day and night. I was driving to my parent’s home to tell them the news that their first grandchild had been born. Nicholas Mark Edwards had arrived – I was excited to say the least, but the scene in front of me was somewhat unnerving.

My parents home was lit up – it seemed that every light in the home was now on. There were cars everywhere – each bearing a news or radio network insignia on the car door. There were people everywhere. Surely the birth of my first child was not that newsworthy.

I walked into the home past strangers, television lights and microphones all in abundance. My mother came racing towards me holding a tray load of food and wanting to know the gender and associated details of her grandchild. ‘By the way’, she said, ‘Your father has resigned tonight’. Dad had been the Deputy Premier and Treasurer of the State of Queensland until being replaced by someone else in a back-room coup. He had resigned. So Nicholas was not the news? How clearly I still remember! That night forged an opinion in me that still resides.

Why do we seem to dispose of our leaders so quickly? Men and women who place themselves in a position of leadership in many areas of society from church to politics to sport can find themselves replaced and disposed of. Our former Prime Minister Kevin Rudd must surely know what I mean. Is our society so used to disposability that at the first sign of trouble our thoughts turn to getting rid of the leader?

Backroom coups, instant dismissals and not thought though sackings seem to be acceptable if the end result justifies the means. Talk to any coach of a professional football team about disposability!

What has happened to hanging in there through the valleys, perseverance during hard times, loyalty when things are not going that well or faithfulness and allegiance without blame when popular opinion is talking disposability?

Good leaders with character and competence are just too few on the ground to be getting rid of them when the ‘polls are against them’ or the populace wakes up in the mood for a change.

I know what it is like to lead in good, bad and indifferent times. I have seen disposability up close and personal more times than I wanted to.

Call me old-fashioned but I believe the gift of leadership is too rare to be disposed of quickly. I am not saying leaders should stay forever but to dispose of them on the basis of hard or difficult times seems to me to be part of a disposable culture that for me is troubling.

Let’s value the virtues of loyalty, faithfulness, fidelity, allegiance and commitment especially towards those too few individuals who have the courage to get out the front and lead. Yes – I still remember that night all too well!

Ken Burns is one of my favourite film and documentary makers – I have loved his work ever since he brought the American Civil War to life on SBS a few ago. Recently in Chautauqua N.Y. (reported by Nancy Gibbs in Time 30/8/10) Burns spoke about sacred places.

The concept of sacred places has always intrigued me. They are the places, which seem to hold some very deep meaning for people. In many cases it is a very personal spiritual encounter. The place has an experience attached to it – sometimes it is a personal incident, sometimes a conflict, a wonder of nature, a tragedy or loss or a momentous event.

It is a place where reality and divine meet. Always different for each person – one place can be just a place to one and for another it can be that place of hallowed ground.

I have known some of these places – almost stumbled across them. They sneak up on you often taking you by surprise. St Paul’s Church Manhattan New York directly across the road from Ground Zero, Maya Lin’s Vietnam Veteran’s Memorial Wall in Washington and the spot where Martin Luther King Jnr gave his famous ‘I Have A Dream’ speech in front of the Lincoln Memorial are places that I have been deeply moved when I have stood there.

You sense something when you are at those places. Sometimes it is the sense of sacrifice as those who have visited Gallipoli have spoken of, sometimes a sense of God’s creation and beauty at a picturesque scenic place, sometimes it is a place of memory perhaps good perhaps not so good and sometimes it is just a special place where your spirit is alive.

I think everyone of us craves for that sacred place where revelation, healing, creativity, inspiration and imagination abound. We feel safe yet respectful, inspired yet frightened, creative yet overawed and worshipful yet insignificant.

I want to be constantly on the lookout for these sacred places because they seem to be places where God speaks to my heart and somehow I am prepared to listen more intently. Yes – my heart and my soul longs for those scared places. What about you?

At home later that day – I was hurting really badly. Not just from the cuts but muscles that had not been used in that manner before were starting to complain. Not to mention parts of me that I fell on were now nicely bruising and as a result hurting a tad.

Yet as I looked from my home I could see the peak of Mount Flinders and I knew that I had been at the top that day.

Stories of others who turned back had been told to me but I had made it.

However I knew there was only one reason and one reason alone I had made it. Two mates had been there for me. We were a team. The team had made it. They believed in me, supported me, encouraged me and cared enough to slow down their assent and descent so we could all make the climb up and back.

Had I been alone I would have turned back.

Had I been with strangers they may have left me.

But not Daniel and Kim – the two strong supported the weak.

Life must be done this way. When due to the falls in life sometimes it is good to have great friends to encourage you but also a good team that carried you when you can’t make it alone for a season.

A team that is prepared to go back for you, slow down for you, understand your situation, feel your pain, know your heart and be committed to you anyway even if it means a sacrifice for them.

A team of friends

A team of family

I reached the top of Mount Flinders that day but I learnt a lot about myself, two great friends and a little about life’s journey as well.

Yep – when I look at the peak I remember a good day!

The climb to Flinders Peak was not going well – thanks to me. Both the guys were now beside me but I was obviously dazed and a bit frightened by what had happened to be honest.

Then I heard it – Daniel said something to me that for some reason gave me such strength. ‘Mate, if we have to go back down – that’s fine – everything is OK – now let’s have a look at you.’ Daniel is very experienced in the area of fire and rescue so I felt safe. Yet it was the fact that both of these great guys were willing to go back down after only 15 minutes of climbing. That made the difference – I felt somehow safe and very secure with them. I knew they cared for me – would help me no matter what! I knew that before the accident but somehow at that moment a bond formed between us that I can’t explain but I knew that if I was OK I was going to continue to the top.

Daniel patched me up – the boys got me to my feet and at that moment I knew I wanted to go on.

With one of them in front of me and the other behind me we started out again. My confidence gone but each time I wavered they were there.

Encouraging me – helping me – supporting me – we made our way upward. There were parts that were scary – a couple of cliff faces where the drop was sheer to the bottom of the mountain it seemed but again the boys guided me.

Then I saw it – the top of the Mount Flinders!

We were there – parts of my body were just not working and some other parts just plain hurt far too much but we were there – the view magnificent.

Yet more importantly we did it together – the three of us – at the pace of the slowest namely me.

Refreshments taken, we started down – finally the car park at the bottom of the climb came into view we had made it. I didn’t tell the boys how much my leg was hurting but as Daniel started to clean it up and I yelled in pain I think they got the picture.

Tomorrow lessons learnt from Mount Flinders!

My good mate Daniel had an idea – ‘Mate, I’m climbing Mt Flinders tomorrow – want to come?’ Flinders Peak is 800 meters high and perhaps I should have read what one climbing website said of it – ‘Class 5 track (Australian Standards)?No signs or markers are provided, except where necessary to minimize environmental damage. ?Trails may range from clearly visible footpads to indistinct, overgrown routes depending on usage levels. ?Muddy section, steep grades and numerous hazards such as fallen trees and rock falls highly likely to be encountered. ?Caution required — no safety fences, bridges or other structures provided. ?Highly developed navigational skills and relevant topographic maps essential. ?High fitness level and extensive off-track walking experience and ankle-supporting footwear essential.’

Oops – now you tell me!

However I said ‘Yes – sure I’m in!’

Now at this point I realize that my brain that answered, thought it was 20 years of age – it should have been my 51 year old body that answered. It would have had more common sense.

So the next day I set off with Daniel and Kim – two friends and brilliant blokes.

It is about a two-hour climb up and then the same distance back down.

At about the 15 minute mark my body showed that it’s cat like reflexes were long gone and were now a figment of my imagination. My foot slipped – I reached out for some support but alas too late! I lost my footing on the rocky slope and I fell and cart wheeled once back down the hill onto sharp rocks.

As the boys raced to pick me the right way up and to check if I was OK my first thoughts turned to a helicopter rescue scenario and a front page newspaper story with my picture on it.

I was winded, couldn’t feel my leg, sick in the stomach due to the shock of the fall and blood over my legs due to the cuts from the rocks.

‘Houston, we have a problem!’

Expect part 2 of the story tomorrow!

For those of you that laughed and cried tears of sympathy when you read about the great witches hat debacle during my race debut I thought I would give you an update on the most watched injury in history.

After x-rays, MRI scans and various Specialist and Physiotherapy appointments the diagnosis is in. I have torn the main tendon in my ankle and bruised a couple of the bones down there just for good measure. It seems that running for 9.5 kilometres after the initial impact perhaps didn’t help things. Hindsight is a wonderful gift for doctors to have on your behalf.

Since the injury I haven’t run at all – both Specialist and Physiotherapist said to me that the injury is indeed very rare and unique AND they still can’t understand how I managed to injure myself so badly. They are calling my injury the ‘Witches Hat Syndrome’ – albeit when they stopped laughing out loud.

My sense of frustration has been high to say the least – not helped by, again, both Specialist and Physiotherapist indicating to me that this injury takes time to heal ‘for a person of my age’. Oh please – let’s just rub it in! You know that it is a long time when every staff member of the Physiotherapist practice knows you by name and asks how the injury is.

At my last visit to my physio – something happened which changed my attitude completely. There had been a suggestion that surgery may be needed and to be honest that may still happen but my physio said something to me that really changed things. I have known my physio for longer than 20 years and really trust him and I think he saw a tad of frustration rising in me.

He said that his aim is to get me 100% well not 90% well because if I run again at 90% – the injury will return and that’s what often happens because most people are just too impatient.

I suspect that most of us think 90% is OK in anything!

At that moment I thought – how many times do I attempt things in life when I am only 90% well? Then when things go wrong I blame everyone else or circumstances when really it was my fault for attempting something at 90% capacity?

Perhaps in the future I should be patient and let the final 10 % heal so I can operate at a full 100%. So no running for me yet – the final 10% is taking some time BUT it will be worth it when I can run at 100%.

I can still remember the moment as I and millions of people held their breath as one nameless, faceless man stood before a column of 18 tanks in Tiananmen Square China on June 5, 1989 some 22 years ago almost to the day of this blog appearing.

Almost nobody knew his name at least nobody outside his immediate friends and to this day despite numerous attempts to identity him nobody knows who he was or what happened to him even one hour after what he did appeared in the world’s living rooms.

Yet for those of us who saw it on the TV news it was spellbinding.  A small, unexceptional figure in long pants and white shirt, carrying what looks to be his shopping, puts himself before an approaching tank, with a line of 17 more tanks behind it. The tank swerves right; he, to block it, moves left. The tank swerves left; he moves right. Then this anonymous bystander clambers up onto the vehicle of war and says something to its driver.

He jumps off and is gathered by his friends never to be seen or heard from again.

Recently I watched the TV footage again and realized that history is littered by single individuals who, prepared to give their all, made an astonishing difference. This man known only as ‘the tank man’ made a difference – he draw attention to China and what was happening there. No media outlet did as much nor any politician, activist or diplomat – he did it. Our Prime Minister at the time, Bob Hawke, cried but the tank man made a difference.

I doubt if any of us will stand before a row of tanks yet I was prompted to think once again of making a difference. It all sounds so humdrum – heard it all before – ‘yeah making a difference’ yet my heart was stirred to think again about it.

I have discovered that making a difference is usually spontaneous, sudden, comes upon us in a flash, instantaneous and happens so quickly. I am sure the tank man didn’t plan for days his appearance before the tanks. If asked I wonder if he would say – ‘it just happened!’

The opportunities to make a difference are always before us – the door opens just a little and the moment is there to be seized. Its up to you but as for me I am looking for my tank man moment – albeit without the tanks.