Entry 01: Surrender Is Not Giving Up

When one door closed - and another finally opened

I thought surrender would feel peaceful.

It didn’t.

At first, it felt a lot like rejection.

Recently, I applied for another leadership position at Boeing. I believed my experience, training, and years of solving problems on factory floors had prepared me for the opportunity.

I didn’t get it.

My first reaction wasn’t enlightened or inspirational. I was disappointed. Angry. Tired of feeling as if I had to keep proving that I had something valuable to contribute.

Part of me wanted to fight harder. Apply again. Earn another certification. Find the perfect words that would finally make someone recognize what I could do.

That has been one of my patterns for much of my life: work harder, fix more, carry more, and hope someone eventually notices.

But surrender asked something different of me.

It asked me to stop giving another person, position, or organization the authority to determine my value.

That doesn’t mean I stopped caring. It doesn’t mean the rejection didn’t hurt. And it doesn’t mean I walked away from my responsibilities.

Surrender is not giving up.

Giving up says, “Nothing I do matters.”

Surrender says, “I will do my part, but I will stop trying to control who recognizes it, when the door opens, and what the outcome must look like.”

While one door was closing, something else was happening.

Healing the Leader Within became a No. 1 New Release in Spiritual Healing and reached No. 5 in Personal Success and Spirituality.

People bought the book, shared it, encouraged me, prayed for me, and reminded me that the story I once wanted to hide could help someone else stop hiding.

The irony wasn’t lost on me.

I was still waiting for one organization to recognize my leadership while readers were already responding to the message I had been afraid to share.

One door I had chased did not open.

Another door—one I had started building myself—did.

Now I’m working with Eric Lofholm to help carry this message further and turn what I have lived and learned into training, speaking, coaching, and conversations that can serve more people.

Working with Eric represents another form of surrender for me: accepting that I don’t have to build everything alone.

For most of my life, being dependable meant being the one who could handle it. The fixer. The person who didn’t need help.

But perhaps the next version of leadership isn’t about proving I can carry everything.

Perhaps it’s about becoming willing to receive support, invest in myself, and allow other people to contribute to the vision.

I don’t know exactly where this road leads yet.

I haven’t left Boeing. I don’t have every course built, every speech booked, or every business question answered. Some days I still feel disappointed, uncertain, and impatient.

Surrender doesn’t eliminate uncertainty.

It changes who carries it.

I can continue showing up, doing good work, learning, and building—without demanding that today reveal the entire plan.

A phrase keeps returning to me:

It will work out. More will be revealed.

Maybe that is what Chapter 13½ is really about.

Not having the ending.

Not pretending everything makes sense.

Just releasing what is no longer mine to control and taking the next honest step.

Cash the check. Build the dream. Leave the legacy.

Your Chapter 13½ question

Where are you still waiting for someone else to recognize, choose, or approve you?

And what could you begin building if you stopped waiting?