For as long as I can remember, I really, really, really wanted to be a cheerleader when I got to high school. I don’t have specific memories of an introduction to cheerleaders, but from the time I was a little girl, I wanted to wear a bow; hold the sparkly poms; and smile, clap, and shout every Friday night. It was just kind of a fact and a common-sense aspiration. Like, of course I wanted to be a cheerleader. It was a 2+2=4 situation. Anna Rose + cheering = duh. 

By the time I tried out, I was fortunate enough to make the squad all four years. I went to a catholic high school and was blessed to have faith woven into nearly everything we did—including sports and extracurriculars. I’ll never forget sitting on the bleachers in the small gym one sticky, humid summer morning. It was an early morning practice, and we had recently tie-dyed our t-shirts with the Bible verse + motto for the season written on the back.

The theme that year was goodness. Particularly, goodness over greatness. I’ll never forget our beloved coach explaining the difference between being good and being great. And how you can’t truly be great without being good at your core. How being good requires the Holy Spirit, how greatness is something you strive for while goodness is something that takes root inside of you. Goodness over greatness. 

I haven’t stood on a football field or sported the uniform for a few years, but I recently babysat for two precious girls, and the floodgates on these memories were opened. As I put the girls to bed, they hurried to the posters on their bedroom walls and pointed to the local high school cheerleaders smiling back at them. 

“I know this one and this one!” they exclaimed excitedly. “This one signed my poster and I have a picture with that one!” they squealed. 

These little girls were quite literally looking up to the big, grown-up high schoolers, aspiring to become just like them. It took me back in time to my experience growing up because I had felt the exact same way. I always wanted to be just like them. Just like the cheerleaders smiling, jumping, clapping, and dancing on the field (with the sparkly poms, of course). 

It’s ironic because when I was a cheerleader, I didn’t feel that way anymore. I didn’t feel like I had much of an impact on anyone or like people were watching. I forgot how big of a deal it is for a seven-year-old to check-in to a Tuesday night cheer clinic and spend time with the big girls. How attentively they’re watching and mentally taking notes, hoping to stand exactly where the girls wearing the uniforms are standing one day. 

In reality, most Friday nights I was cheering, I was exhausted from another week of school, stressed about the homework to do over the weekend, and just wanted to curl up in bed after smiling and yelling at a sea of faces for three hours (the introvert in me was ready to hit the hay). I got tunnel-visioned and only saw what was going on in my life, not the specific role God had placed me in with certain people at that specific time. 

I forgot all of that so easily, but my hope now is that we would remember that we do, in fact, have influence. A lot more than we give ourselves credit for. It may look different than we think it should or want it to, but I promise you that in your day-to-day life, you are being watched (and I mean that in the least creepy way possible). Even walking down the hall at school, rushing to a class across campus, getting coffee with someone in Starbucks—people pick up on our demeanor and attitudes in the simplest of tasks.   

And the thing I want to hold onto today and every day: 

We don’t have to be great to be a leader or have an impact. But I sure hope we are good—that the Holy Spirit is producing fruit in us that blesses those coming up behind us. I hope that He is grounding me in goodness and that that’s the direction I’m leading people. Not towards an impossible standard of perfection or a snapshot of societal success. But to the King of Kings, to the One who can produce that same fruit in them and repeat the cycle of mentorship and giving back.  

Whether you’re standing on the sidelines, sprinting on centerfield, or cheering from the stands, you have a part to play. The game wouldn’t be the same without you. You don’t have to be on the field to have an influence. You don’t have to have an official position or a title to be a leader. You already are. If no one’s ever told you that before, consider this your formal appointment—you are leading people. You are an influencer. You don’t have to have a million followers for that to be true, you just need to know a single person. 

So where is it that we are leading them? What anthems and messages can be picked up from our lives, both online and in face-to-face conversations and encounters with others? It’s easy to forget—and I did for a minute until these two sweet girls reminded me—that people are watching. They may never say anything, and we may never know them personally. But our attitudes, mannerisms, and characters are noticeable, and they impact people—greatly, I might argue. 

You are a light, even when you can’t see it yourself—especially when you can’t see it yourself—and I pray that it’s goodness radiating out to the people God has placed in our paths in this season.