I remember spring cleaning season in Lebanon.
A few days before, Mama would warn us:
“It is coming.”
And we would protest:
“Do we really need to do this?”
Because we knew the drill.
Furniture moved.
Rugs dragged outside and beaten until dust exploded into the air.
Cupboards emptied.
Fridge scrubbed.
Every hidden corner exposed and cleaned.
It disrupted everything.
We complained the entire time:
Why clean what no one sees?
Why move what is heavy?
Why waste a perfectly good day?
Mama always had the same answer:
“Mold and mildew grow in dark places,
and dust fills the air you breathe.
Ya binti, just because you don’t see it
doesn’t mean it is not there, killing you slowly.
Yalla. Khallas. Stop complaining and bring me the mop.”
And she was right.
Because when the cleaning was done,
the home felt renewed.
Everything worked better.
We moved with ease again.
Until next spring.
When we had forgotten.
And had to do it all over again.
Transformations are the spring cleaning of organizations.
They disturb comfort.
They interrupt rhythm.
They expose what has been quietly growing in the shadows.
People resist because they fear discomfort
more than they fear decay.
And what hides under the carpet,
the outdated systems, silent workarounds,
the slow accumulation of inefficiency,
is what becomes tomorrow’s crisis.
By the time you notice the mess,
it has already spread.
In hindsight, Mama was not just teaching us how to clean a home. She was teaching us how to lead one.
Courage begins with lifting what others would rather ignore.
Progress begins with cleaning what no longer serves.
Transformation, like a Lebanese mom’s spring cleaning, is disruptive, necessary, and worth it.
What’s under your organization’s carpet?
Are you brave enough to check?
