It’s the end of the school year. A time that should be marked by closure, reflection, and celebration. Yet, this past week, I witnessed a moment that reminded me how easily tension can turn into rupture.
Two colleagues—both respected, both essential to the heartbeat of our building—found themselves in a heated exchange that quickly escalated. What began as a conversation about a simple issue unexpectedly unraveled into something deeper. Old frustrations, long held but never voiced by one of them, came pouring out—revealing that this moment had been building quietly for some time. The tension that had gone unaddressed beneath the surface erupted, and unfortunately, it happened in a way that was loud, public, and painful for those who witnessed it.
In the aftermath, I found myself thinking deeply—not just about the incident, but about what it means to steward peace, especially in the workplace.
My mother, Reverend Dr. Lillie M. Jones, was known for many things: her brilliance, her faith, her leadership. But one of her greatest gifts was her ability to create harmony among people. Not because things were always easy or fair for her—but because she was deeply committed to building a culture that allowed others to lead, thrive, and feel seen.
She didn’t just manage people. She mobilized them.
She didn’t micromanage. She delegated with trust.
She didn’t silence dissent. She redirected it with grace.
She cultivated spaces where people could walk in their gifting—and be held accountable in love.
She understood what many leaders don’t: that peace is not passive. Peace is active. Peace takes effort. Peace is intentional.
When people feel seen, valued, and heard, they show up differently. They lead differently. They serve differently.
As I reflect on this moment in our school, I am praying not just for resolution, but for restoration. I pray that both colleagues will come to a place of humility, maturity, and healing. I pray that we—as a school family—won’t let this moment harden us, but teach us. That just because we feel something doesn’t mean it’s wise or right to say it. That disagreement doesn’t have to destroy.
This is still Mental Health Awareness Month, and we must remember that emotional discipline is mental health.
How we communicate matters.
Peace—within ourselves and with each other—requires intention.
My mother didn’t just preach peace; she practiced it.
And today, I want to walk in that legacy.
So I speak peace over my school, over my colleagues, over myself.
Let the year end not in brokenness, but in rebuilding.
Let this be a season where we learn, let go, forgive, and grow.
Because peace isn’t just the absence of conflict.
Peace is the presence of purpose.
In love and charity,
Giselle (aka) Blooming-lillie