Granola Bars and Humility

“The only metrics that will truly matter to my life are the individuals whom I have been able to help, one by one, to become better people.”

– Clayton Christensen, How Will You Measure Your Life

Years ago I had the privilege of attending an event in which Clayton Christensen was the featured speaker. I was aware of him being a thought leader in management, and had learned something about his principles from stories told about him. I have since come to respect him greatly and was saddened to learn of his death last month. While Christensen’s brilliance in innovation and business is laudable, one of the greatest lessons he left with me stems from a very human moment he experienced at that event a decade or so ago.

Christensen was addressing a religious topic that today I can’t recall. In the middle of his address, he stopped and asked if anyone in the audience happened to have food. His blood sugar was dropping, and he needed to eat. Someone walked a granola bar they’d fished out of their purse up to the podium. He graciously accepted and ate it before starting up again without losing a beat.

I imagine this was a commonplace happening for him. Christensen was a Type 1 diabetic. There’s nothing more reasonable for him to do, eating so that he wouldn’t be facing a medical emergency. But for me, a fellow Type 1 diabetic, the moment was stunning.

When I have occasion to present in front of people, I take great care to ensure that I’ll have balanced blood sugar so I won’t need to be interrupted. I don’t want to distract from the message or shift audience focus from my message and purpose. And, if I’m being honest, I don’t want to appear to be at the mercy of the disease. I’m stronger than that.

Christensen showed me a better and more authentic way. His grace in an every-day navigation of diabetes taught me that I needn’t be overly concerned, that the message I’m delivering will survive a moment of humanness. He taught me, in fact, that the message is enhanced when we allow our humanness to inform it. He taught me humility.

In his best-selling book, How Will You Measure Your Life?, Christensen shared that his personal measurement for success was how many people he helped become better. I suspect that he lived a wildly successful life according to this metric. I’m so grateful to be one data point in that data set–an individual made better because Clayton Christensen was quietly and confidently himself.