Fireworks or Roots: Two Ways to Make an Impact

There are really only two ways to make an impact. And lately, watching what's happening around me, I find myself thinking about both of them more than ever.

One way is loud. The other is quiet. And the difference between them matters more than most people think.

The Fireworks Light Up the Sky, Then Disappear

A firework is breathtaking. For a few seconds, the whole sky lights up and everyone looks up at once. The colour, the sound, the feeling that something big is happening.

Then the smoke clears, the crowd goes home, and the sky is dark again.

Attention built on frustration and anger works the same way. It burns bright, it draws eyes, and for a moment it feels like everything is finally moving. Social media lights up. The media calls. People are talking.

But when the next headline arrives, the energy moves on with it. The people who were counting on change are often left exactly where they started, still waiting, still hoping, still watching the sky for the next burst of light.

I’ve seen this happen more times than I can count. A cause catches fire, everyone is talking about it, the posts are shared everywhere, and it feels like change is finally coming. Then a few weeks later, the conversation has moved on, and the people who needed that change are still waiting. Every time I see it, I’m reminded that attention and change are two very different things.

I understand the impulse and I've experienced it myself. When something matters this much, when real people are depending on what happens next, the urge to be loud makes complete sense. Sometimes loud is the only thing that feels like enough.

The Roots Grow in Complete Quiet

A tree grows in a completely different way. For a long time, most of the work happens underground, where no one can see it or hear a thing.

The roots spread quietly and steadily, reaching for water, anchoring into rock, building something that can hold weight long before there's anything to show above the soil.

And then one day, there's a tree.

Kindness and respect build impact the same way. Every conversation where you show up with warmth. Every relationship built on honesty. Every time you come to the table with a solution in hand, rather than just a problem in your arms. Each one adds a little more reach underground, a little more strength.

You can't always see it happening. Some days it feels like nothing is moving at all. But the roots don't stop growing because no one is watching. That's actually what makes them roots.

I Knew From the Start I’d Choose the Roots

With Heart Strings In Motion, the dream closest to my heart, I’m choosing kindness, respect, and showing up with a solution in hand.

We’re working toward permanent supportive housing for forever-dependent individuals in Greater Moncton. Twenty sensory-stable studio apartments for the sons and daughters who will forever need support, built by people who understand what their families are carrying. The need is real. For these families, it feels urgent every single day, because it is.

It would be easy to be loud about it. To knock on government doors with frustration leading the way, to demand action because the need is undeniable. I understand that choice, and I hold nothing but respect for the families who have used every voice they have.

And still, I believe this dream deserves time to grow from strong roots.

So we show up with kindness. With respect. With humility and vulnerability. With a plan already taking shape, so that when someone sits across the table from us, they can see it too. Some days it feels slower than I wish it did. And every conversation, every partner who leans in, every person who shares our story with someone they know, is another root spreading a little further underground.

Another heart joining the string.

I’ve seen this quiet kind of impact at work. One post I shared about Heart Strings In Motion was seen by a leader who was moved enough to reach out and arrange a meeting for me with a key decision-maker. That meeting gave me a clear list of next steps, and I’m still working through them today. One post, shared with kindness, touched someone’s heart and opened a door I never could have opened on my own. That’s what roots do: they reach places you can’t see, and they hold.

Some days the progress is a phone call, a meeting, or one more item checked off my list. It doesn’t always look like much from the outside, but it all adds up. And every step brings us closer, and that's enough to keep going. I think about the families who have been waiting a long time for somewhere safe and steady for their forever child, and I know the roots we're growing now are for them.

What This Means for the Change You're Building

If you're a heart-centered leader working toward something that matters, you already know this tension. The need feels real and sometimes urgent, and the slow way feels like it isn't keeping up. I hear that.

Here's what I keep coming back to: fireworks call attention to a moment. Roots build something that can hold the weight of real change, the kind that lasts past the next news cycle and shows up for the people counting on it years from now.

Both have a place. And you get to choose how you show up for the impact you're making.

The relationships you build with kindness become the people who champion your cause when you're not in the room. The solutions you bring to the table become the reason someone says yes. The respect you offer, even when it isn't easy, becomes the trust that holds everything else up when the hard moments come.

Roots that grow slowly and steadily are what change communities for the better.

Which way are you choosing for the change you want to see?