Redefining Success Through Service and Sacrifice

Dec 27 , 2025
By Eden Sahle

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Last Saturday, I attended a women’s conference expecting to be informed and perhaps encouraged. I did not expect to be quietly transformed. The guest speaker was Tenagne Lemma, and from the moment she began speaking, the room settled into a different kind of attention.

She did not try to impress us with her impressive leadership career at local and international companies. She did not promote herself. She simply told her story, and in doing so, she reminded me what a life of purpose truly looks like.

Tenagne is almost 79 years old, though you would not guess it by the way she carries herself. There is a youthful clarity in her eyes and a calm strength in her voice. She has worked for several decades in education, development, and leadership, but she spoke of these years as a series of responsibilities rather than achievements.

She earned degrees and a master’s from what was then Haile Selassie I University, now Addis Abeba University, and later from the University of Strathclyde in Glasgow, United Kingdom. These milestones were mentioned briefly, almost modestly, as though education was never the destination but simply a tool for service.

She is the firstborn of nine children, with seven brothers and one sister. Her childhood unfolded during the Haile Selassie Empire, a time when sending girls to school, especially girls from towns, was rare and often discouraged.

Yet her father made a decision that would shape generations. He sent his firstborn, a girl, to school. As she spoke about him, it became clear that this single act of courage planted the confidence she carried throughout her life. When society expected little from her, her father expected everything.

That expectation grew into responsibility. As she began working, she did not see her income as something to spend on herself. She used it to educate her younger brothers and sister and to support her parents. She spoke honestly about sacrifice, not as something heroic, but as something necessary.

She delayed marriage and personal comfort so her siblings could have opportunities she herself had fought to earn. One detail stayed with me deeply. Just 500 Br was once enough to change the course of her siblings’ lives through education. In that contrast was a lifetime of discipline, restraint, and love.

Her siblings did not disappoint her. They completed their higher level education and went on to become influential in their respective fields. As she spoke of them, there was pride, but no sense of ownership. Her joy came not from being needed, but from seeing them thrive independently. Listening to her, I realised how rare it is to see success measured not by personal gain, but by how far others are able to go because of us.

Her story of marriage revealed another layer of her beautiful life, one shaped by the depth of love rather than convention. She spoke of her late husband as her closest friend and greatest supporter. At a time when traditional roles were firmly defined, he chose a different path.

He mostly stayed home to raise their two daughters while she pursued her career, which she described not as ambition, but as a calling. She gave him full credit for the women their daughters became, successful academically and grounded in life. There was no hesitation, no imbalance, only gratitude.

She described their life together with warmth and tenderness. They walked through life hand in hand, sharing responsibilities and joy. Even simple trips to the market were moments of companionship.

When she spoke of his passing, the room grew quiet. She shared that she chose to abandon her PhD pursuit after his death. She did not want the title without him. For her, achievement had meaning only when it was shared with the person who loved her and walked beside her.

Grief changed her life in lasting ways. She spoke honestly about how the loss of her husband affected her health and mobility. Today, she walks with a cane. Yet there was no bitterness in her voice. She spoke of grief as something that reshaped her, not something that defeated her. She also expressed gratitude that her father lived into his late nineties, strong until the end, another quiet blessing in a life filled with both loss and grace.

As I listened to her that day, something shifted inside me. Her story made me slow down. She reminded me that a meaningful life is not built on urgency, but on patience and responsibility. She showed me the importance of being willing to delay my own comfort for the sake of others, and to see success as something meant to be shared.

Her relationship with her husband showed me that love and purpose do not have to compete. They can strengthen each other. Support, I realised, is not passive encouragement, but active participation in each other’s dreams. Watching her speak about him with such respect and affection reminded me that true partnership is built on shared sacrifice and mutual belief.

What influenced me most was her humility. After a lifetime of service and leadership, she did not present herself as extraordinary. She spoke as someone who simply responded to what life placed before her. That humility made her story feel accessible. It made me believe that impact is not reserved for a select few, but is available to anyone willing to live with intention.

I left the conference quieter than when I arrived, but clearer. Tenagne did not give me a list of lessons. She gave me perspective. Her life reminded me that service accumulates, that love sustains, and that the choices we make in silence often shape the legacies we leave behind. That day, her story did not just inspire me. It recalibrated how I want to live a life of service.

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PUBLISHED ON Dec 27,2025 [ VOL 26 , NO 1339]

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