The Quiet Layers of Response: What We Often Miss in Leadership, Parenting, and Life

Some truths in life are loud — they demand attention, spark applause, and get written into reports. But others are quiet, subtle, and often invisible — yet they carry far greater weight. One of those truths is this: not all leadership is visible. And not all important work is celebrated.

Some time ago, in a leadership townhall, Erik Aas, our then-CEO, shared an idea that seemed simple on the surface: Every problem should be addressed in three layers — short-term, mid-term, and long-term.

At the time, it sounded like practical advice. But over the years, I’ve come to realize it’s not just a method. It’s a mindset — one that applies not only to problems but also to possibilities. To parenting. To leadership. To life itself.

But perhaps what strikes me most is how it quietly explains why the work that truly matters often goes unrecognized. And why people tend to drift toward short-term fixes while avoiding the deeper, longer work.

The Three Layers, Revisited

Yes, we respond to life in layers.

• Short-term: We act now, to stop the bleeding, fix the leak, calm the storm.

• Mid-term: We reflect and adjust — changing routines, habits, processes so it doesn’t repeat easily.

• Long-term: We go to the roots, redesigning the system, culture, or environment so the problem dissolves over time.

It sounds clean. Logical. Sensible. And it is.

But here’s what we rarely admit: short-term action is rewarded; mid- and long-term work is taken for granted.

Why We Celebrate the Firefighter, but Not the Fire Preventer

In any organization — even in families — you’ll see this pattern. Someone who solves an urgent crisis gets recognition. They’re called a hero. They’re praised in townhalls.

But the one who quietly fixed the reporting process months ago so the crisis never happened in the first place? Silence.

The parent who rushed their child to the hospital after a fall is applauded. The parent who childproofed the home and built a rhythm of safety over years? Not even noticed.

We are conditioned to see action. Visible struggle looks like leadership. Silent planning doesn’t.

But what if that’s exactly where real leadership lives?

The Weight of Mid and Long-Term Work

Mid-term thinking is reflection. It’s feedback. It’s learning from mistakes. It’s often invisible.

Long-term thinking is even lonelier. It asks you to invest in systems, people, and structures that may take years to yield results. It demands patience. Faith. And sometimes, self-sacrifice.

And still — no one claps when nothing goes wrong.

A child who never saw poverty may one day say, “You don’t understand struggle.” Not knowing their parents fought every day to protect them from it.

A manager whose team runs smoothly may be seen as “not doing much.” Not realizing it took years to build a culture where people self-correct and support each other.

This is the irony of good work: if it’s done really well, no one notices it.

A Lens for Both Crisis and Joy

What’s beautiful about the short-mid-long-term lens is that it works not only for fixing problems — but also for nurturing joy.

When something good happens, it also deserves layers:

• Short-term: Pause and celebrate.

• Mid-term: Reinforce what worked — a kind word, a good habit, a working formula.

• Long-term: Build systems that let that good thing become part of your rhythm.

But again — even this work is invisible. And often forgotten.

So What’s the Point, Then?

If mid- and long-term work isn’t praised, why bother?

Because it's the only kind of work that truly changes the future.

Short-term solutions solve today’s pain. Mid-term thinking builds resilience. Long-term vision transforms lives.

And some part of us — the deeper, steadier part — doesn’t want applause. It just wants peace. It wants our children, our teams, our communities to be able to breathe more easily because of something we built, even if no one remembers we built it.

My Quiet Realization

Over the years, I’ve stopped waiting for recognition for the quiet work. Instead, I’ve started appreciating those who carry that weight silently — the peacekeepers, the maintainers, the planners, the parents who shield, the colleagues who prepare.

And I remind myself:

• If it didn’t go wrong, maybe someone did something right.

• If a team feels safe, someone worked hard to make it so.

• If a child feels confident, maybe it’s because someone whispered encouragement for years.

This model — short, mid, long — isn’t a formula. It’s a lens. A mirror. A gentle reminder that every day, we get to choose:

Do I want to fix the now, prepare for tomorrow, or plant seeds for the future?

Maybe, if we’re lucky, we’ll do a little of all three.

And maybe — if we’re wise — we’ll stop needing applause for it.

Because the most important things we do in life… might be the ones no one sees.