I learned a new word today: womanfully. Even my computer's word processor didn't recognize it, so don't feel self-conscious if you've yet to add it to your everyday vocabulary. There's the definition from The American Heritage Dictionary: wom·an·full·y adv.: "with the characteristic grace, strength, or purposefulness of a woman."

Actually, I learned two words today. There is a parallel to this one. It's manfully: "Having or showing the bravery and resoluteness considered characteristic of a man."

Neither manfully nor womanfully speaks of power or weakness, superiority or inferiority. Instead the two speak of complementary contrasts: graceful strength in contrast with raw bravery; purposefulness in contrast with resoluteness. Both are needed in every arena of life, not the least of which is the workplace.

The Feminine Dilemma
It is my observation that (being careful not to stereotype men or women) the character trait of sensitivity is tied in with who we as women were made to be. The nurturing tendency is one we women all share deep down, to some degree or another, because that's how we're wired, how God created us. This trait, in particular, is one significant way we can add a texture, a richness to our workplaces that would not be there is we were not there. It's not that men can't be sensitive or caring—many are. But the trait is more visible in most of us as women when we are operating out of the strength of who we are.

Sadly, I have seen some female managers err on the side of conducting themselves manfully in the workplace. Perhaps without realizing it, the manager will begin to concede her distinctive feminine qualities as recompense for her success in a male-dominated world. Eventually, she settles so comfortably into the male hierarchy that she comes to look and act male. She dresses in dark business suits tailored for the male body and grooms herself sparsely. Once she has cast womanfulness aside, the woman's tendency is to take on the worst, most blatantly macho qualities—perhaps with the subconscious goal of probing to male counterparts just how tough she can be. At the extreme, I have seen women become impertinent, callous, verbally abusive, crude, indifferent and downright obnoxious. In short, anything but womanly. They have assumed these personas because they believe it is what their male counterparts expect, and because they believe that is what it will take for them to garner respect—to be taken seriously in the workplace.

I contend, however, that when we women go overboard in projecting masculine traits, we actually set ourselves up for the opposite response from our make coworkers. Here's a good example.

I recently had a conversation with a thirty-something male friend who works in the dot.com industry the purpose of a book I was writing. He's very trendy, very cutting edge—a true Gen-Xer in his outlook on life. That's why I was surprised when his ears perked up as I explained that I would be examining the roles and conduct of women in the workplace. In fact, he said the topic is one might be interested in as well.

I was shocked. Then he explained that he works for a female boss who has taken the overly masculine route. Her demeanor has him questioning his role as a man and how he expects a woman to conduct herself. He told me, "I've never encountered a man who is a foulmouthed or as hard-nosed as my female boss is. If she cares about any of her staff, she certainly doesn't show it. She probably did have to push her way into a male world, but I really think she has overcompensated—it's not at all becoming. It makes her difficult—downright scary—to work for. After seeing women like her in operation we men are having a hard time trying to figure out who we're supposed to be—what role we're supposed to play."

It helps, sometimes, to see ourselves in the eyes of the opposite sex. By looking at ourselves through their eyes we may see that instead of garnering the respect and honor of the men with whom we work, we can become so much like them (in the worst possible ways) that they dread every interaction with us. I don't know about you, but I don't want any colleague or employee to see me the way my friend sees his boss.

Caring For Others From 8 to 5
So, what does a feminine woman who is in charge look like? How does she operate in difficult situations? Well, for one thing she doesn't deny her feelings and emotions; instead she finds appropriate ways to express them and in so doing improves a situation or a working relationship.

Attorney Christina says she sees the difference between the sexes in operation plainly in her work.

Most men are not emotionally attached; they don't care as much about the feelings and the ramifications of a [court] decision as a woman would. When I was in criminal defense work, it didn't hit as close to home, so it was easier to deal with my emotions. I was working with people who get in trouble [driving under the influence of alcohol, assaults, etc.], rather than families. I was better able to give them advice and not take what they would tell me emotionally.

After her stint as a public defender, Christina went to work in a law practice that handles divorces almost exclusively. Every day she encounters husbands and wives and children who are in situations that hit closer to home. They are more like she is, more like her husband, her son, her friends and social acquaintances. These are problems she has more trouble setting aside at the end of the day. "I cry. I cry a lot." It gets to me," she admits. It is those tears that make her a better attorney, because she genuinely cares about what happens to the families, to the individual spouses and especially to the children of divorce. People are important to her. Helping people in difficult circumstances is why she entered her profession. And the way she values the people she serves is apparent in all of her interactions—with clients in her office and even with opponents in the courtroom. Christina takes the time to let each individual know she values him or her.

Jenny, a pediatrician, wife, and mother, has learned over the years to strike a balance between compassion and retaining objectivity. In an incident early in her career, she learned an important lesson:

During my first year of residency I was assigned to look in on a patient named Linda. She was seventeen and had acute leukemia, which was, at that point, a death sentence. She was the queen, the darling of the floor. The chief resident looked at me through his bushy black eyebrows, scowled and said, "There had better be no mistakes on this one."

Linda wasn't that much younger than I was. Soon she and I became friends. We would sit and chat in the evening when my work was done. As it became apparent she was not going to survive her battle with leukemia, she began wanting to talk about her dying. One day in December, she said to me, "I don't mind dying so much. It's just that I'm seventeen and I've never done anything with my life; my life hasn't counted for anything."

We prayed about that together. And then God dropped an idea into my mind. That night I went to the fabric store and bought some fabric panels that could be cut, sewn and stuffed to make them into little dolls and animal toys. I brought them to Linda along with my sewing machine, and I told her, "I have aunt who is a missionary in Columbia. You make these up, and we'll as my aunt to give these to children in Columbia. When she gives them away, she'll tell the children about Jesus. Some of them will come to Jesus, and in this way you'll be a missionary."

In the last few weeks of Linda's life, I kept popping into her room. Every time I did, she and her mom would be cutting and snipping and making those little dolls as if they were working on a trousseau. She got them finished and we sent them to Colombia just days before she died.

Last summer (nearly twenty years later), my aunt was back in Colombia, and she met two of the little girls she had given the dolls to. Now they are grown women, loving the Lord and working for Him. That's Linda legacy.

This was an instance when God showed me that when you make yourself available to care for a person and not just to treat his or her low white blood cell counts, then He picks that up and He honors it.

Looking back on her relationship with Linda, Jenny says, "You learn as a doctor to distance yourself to some extent, but you can carry that too far. There's a fine line between caring so much that you become able to give the proper medical help and becoming just a technician, not a physician. A physician is one who cares for the whole person, not just the body. I hope to be a physician, not just a technician."

Those in the medical field can expect to deal with life and death issues every day. There isn't one of us who doesn't hope and pray for a sensitive doctor and a kind nurse. But what about those of us in other professions? How can we cultivate a sensitive, caring heart for those with whom we work every day and yet find the balance point that allows our professionalism to shine through as well?

The Tricky Balance Point
What does sensitivity look like in an office or workplace setting? Certainly it is evident in the medical and legal professions, and it is particular conspicuous when absent. But it is as necessary in every other venue. Sometimes it just means saying a good word and supporting their endeavors, like saying, "Wow, you put a lot of work into that," or "Your kids may not have won the game, but they played hard," or "I've seen you working with those kids and you're doing a good job with them." Supporting one another is so important. We all appreciate it when someone gives us a good word and notices what we are doing. When our colleagues compliment us, it raises our own self-esteem.

Just as we all have encountered women who have assumed male characteristics at work, so we likely have encountered women who have gone too far to the other end of the spectrum. These are women who care so much that they become handicapped in their ability to carry out their daily work and are so concerned with other people's needs that they cease to do that job for which they are hired.

My first experience on this tottering bridge came early in my management career, when my student worker needed to be held accountable for not showing up to work when she was scheduled to do so and for socializing (instead of working) when she did come to the office. She had been through surgery, and her recovery was not as smooth as it should have been. I tried to be sympathetic by offering her leeway and by doing some of her work myself. But as the days turned into weeks and even months, it became apparent that she was taking advantage of my sympathy. Eventually, my boss decided that I needed to discipline her—to lay down the law of expectations and challenge her to meet these or surrender her job. Grudgingly I confronted her, but came away feeling used and disillusioned. And when I started a new job a few months later, I was less inclined to extend patience and compassion to my new secretary because the bitter taste of this experience was still fresh in my mind.

As I recall this frustrating situation and wonder how I could have stopped it from happening, I ask again: Does sensitivity require that we become doormats, so concerned about everyone else's feelings that we handicap ourselves or fail to meet the goals set for us by our superiors?

This is an issue corporate bean counter Ann faces on a daily basis. Her job is to trim budgets to the barest minimum, which does not make her popular with other department heads. She has learned to sort through the emotional difficulties of not pleasing everyone as she plans prudently for outcomes in her company's and her colleagues' best interests.

A colleague once told Ann that she is dispassionate about the job, something she says he meant as a compliment, because that's what it takes to do her job successfully. And yet, she is not dispassionate about people—that's where she draws the differentiating line:

As a woman and as a Christian I try not to yell, not to lose my temper, not to threaten. I am sympathetic about genuine problems. I make a point to help, whether that help is me or whether it takes allocating another clerical person to the department. I want them to know we are in this together. However, tough decisions do need to be made. I'm not unsympathetic at a personal level, but I do have to do the right thing without being angry or vindictive. I'll help wherever I can, but if they won't let me help and they cannot do the job, I make sure there will be accountability.

Accountant Jane encounters a similar dilemma when she is pleading her clients' cases before even the most fearsome of IRS agents. She has found it helpful to change her own perspective. Rather than perceiving the agent as an adversary, she says, "I remember when I am negotiating with anyone that God loves the person sitting on the other side of the table just as He loves me. Many of those men sitting across the table can be difficult, but the choice is mine to remember that God loves that man. When I treat the person on the other side of a negotiation with that firmly in mind, it even helps resolve the situation.

Interestingly, the refrain coming from sensitive women across the gamut of professions is some variation of this thought: We value people over circumstances, over numbers and profits, over a long client list or even our own reputations.

A Biblical Example
One followers of Christ who gave herself away in compassion and kindness is a woman named Tabitha, whom we meet in Acts 9:36-42. A couple of phrases in Tabitha's story speak to me. First, she is said to have been "always doing good." Second, "all the windows stood around [Peter], crying and showing him the robes and other clothing that Tabitha had made" for them. The good Tabitha did was practical, useful and appreciated by those she served—the same ones who sent for Peter and begged him to come to Tabitha's funeral. Unlike the bossy woman my male friend described earlier in this chapter, Tabitha used her talents and skills to compassionately serve the most helpless members of society. In her kindness, she garnered the respect of all the people she encountered. Her testimony, in fact, drew "many people" to believe in the Lord.

A third phrase that jumps out at me is that Tabitha is labeled as a "disciple," a pupil of Jesus Christ. In the Greek language, the word changes when referring to a woman, as opposed to a man. It means the same thing; it accomplishes the same purpose. But the word takes on a different form: mathetes refers to male pupils; mathetria refers to female pupils like Tabitha. Yes, in her doing good, Tabitha was following the example of her Teacher, just as the male disciples were doing. But she was doing it in a way that was uniquely feminine; her accent was on a different syllable that that of Peter or the others.

That subtle distinction is of the same variety that appears even today in the caring heart God has placed in each of us as women. Why should we operate out of compassion? Because it is our God-given nature to do so. How should we do this? By valuing people over power for ourselves; by respecting individuals we encounter rather than building empires on the backs of those we trample on along the way; by seeing others as worthy of dignity and heartfelt sacrifice, just as our Master did. And if along the way He entrusts us with power, authority and a valued reputation at work, we will be prepared to use those gifts to demonstrate to others the compassion and kindness of God Himself.

Reprinted from Staying True in a World of Lies by Julie-Allyson Ieron, copyright © 2002 by Julie-Allyson Ieron. Used by permission of Christian Publications, Inc., 800.233.4443, www.christianpublications.com.

Julie-Allyson Ieron is a writer, national speaker, author and trainer. She has appeared as a featured guest on The Christian Television Network, TBN, Billy Graham's "Decision Today," and LeSea Broadcasting.