ISSUE #007 | THE LEADERSHIP CONTRARIAN
Twelve days ago, it was a normal Monday.
I was having my monthly lunch with my sister, something we started about a year ago to be intentional with each other. We live four miles apart, but life fills up fast, and this was our way of slowing it down.
We talked about work.
About leadership.
About family.
About the ordinary things two people in the second half of their fifties talk about when they like each other and make time to stay connected.
We hugged.
We said I love you.
And we went back to work.
The next morning, at 10:23 a.m., I was sitting at my desk when my phone buzzed.
It was a text from my brother-in-law:
“Headed to the hospital. Your sister had a seizure at work. She’s in an ambulance on the way to the ER. More when I know it.”
She’s had health challenges.
But she has never had a seizure.
I stared at the screen.
She was fine yesterday.
I didn’t text back. I just sat there, trying to make sense of what I was reading.
The updates came fast after that.
10:49 a.m.
“She’s alert and talking while waiting for vitals.”
1:02 p.m.
“She just got back from the MRI.”
2:29 p.m.
“MRI found a mass on her brain. We’ll be here through tonight. Waiting to talk to the surgeon.”
3:47 p.m.
“Could be cancer. Need more tests.”
Later, we got a picture from my sister - smiling, holding her grandson, sitting in a hospital room.
She looked happy.
She looked normal.
Except for the hospital bracelet.
The next morning brought another MRI.
Then more waiting.
At 3:15 p.m., I walked into her room to see her, and the surgeon was already there.
It’s cancer.
She’s being referred to another hospital.
In a city four hours away.
To a surgeon who is world-renowned in his field.
Then, almost as an aside:
“We can transfer you tonight… or in the morning, if that’s okay?”
Let me put the timeline another way:
At 9:30 a.m. on Tuesday, everything was normal.
At 10:00 a.m., she had her first seizure.
By 1:00 p.m., there was a mass on her brain.
By Wednesday afternoon, it was confirmed cancer.
By 1:30 a.m. Thursday, she was in another city, arriving by ambulance.
Five days later, she was rolled into brain surgery.
We stayed composed.
But our heads were spinning, trying to keep up with the speed and severity of news coming in waves that didn’t pause long enough for us to catch our breath.
Life Doesn’t Schedule Its Crises Around Your Capacity
It just shows up.
Usually in the middle of an ordinary day.
Usually when you’re already committed.
Usually when you’re already carrying more than anyone can see.
The world doesn’t slow down when news like this hits.
Work doesn’t stop.
Responsibilities don’t step aside.
People don’t suddenly stop needing you.
So you do what you’ve always done.
You keep showing up.
You answer the emails.
You take the calls.
You make the decisions that can’t wait.
And somewhere in the middle of it, you realize you’re carrying two loads at the same time.
One is visible - leadership, work, commitments, obligations.
The other is quiet - fear, uncertainty, love, concern, and a thousand unanswered questions running just below the surface.
That’s the collision.
Not drama.
Not chaos.
Just weight.
The kind of weight that doesn’t announce itself, but slowly presses in, testing what’s actually holding you up.
What This Last Week Revealed
This last week has been a clear reminder of something I’ve learned - and relearned - over the years:
Resilience isn’t something you turn on in a crisis.
It’s something you build long before one shows up.
Because when life accelerates the way it did for us - when news stacks up faster than you can process it - you don’t have time to invent new coping mechanisms. You lean on what’s already there.
I could see it clearly as the days unfolded.
Resilience showed up in my thinking - my ability to stay oriented when the information kept changing.
It showed up emotionally - in staying present without being overwhelmed.
It showed up physically - in the stamina required to keep going day after day.
And it showed up spiritually - in ways that were quieter, but deeper than all the rest.
It also showed up in my relationships.
And in the systems and margins we’ve built into our lives over time.
That’s something worth naming.
Because resilience isn’t just internal strength.
It’s also external support.
It’s the ability to absorb stress without being permanently damaged by it.
And when it’s healthy, stress doesn’t just test you — it can actually strengthen you.
Where My Strength Came From
I’ve mentioned before that my Christian faith is a core part of my life, but this week reminded me just how central it is to my resilience.
My daily time in prayer - sitting quietly with Jesus, bringing what I have and what I don’t - is not a spiritual accessory for me. It’s foundational.
Without that relationship, without that daily grounding, I know I would be far weaker. Not just emotionally, but in my ability to carry uncertainty without spiraling.
There’s something stabilizing about returning, again and again, to a place where you’re reminded that you’re not carrying everything alone - even when the outcome is unknown.
That mattered more than I can fully put into words this week.
The People Who Hold You Up
Right behind that foundation is my marriage.
As I’ve written before, I invest intentionally in my relationship with my wife. And this week reminded me why.
She leans on me.
I lean on her.
And there is something profoundly steadying about not having to face a storm like this alone. I wouldn’t have wanted to walk through the last ten days without her; without the shared concern, the shared processing, the shared quiet moments where no words were needed.
My daughter is right there as well.
We do life together, and the peace I have in that relationship - the confidence I have in who she is - creates more stability in my life than I often realize until a moment like this.
That’s resilience too: having fewer places you’re worried about, so you can focus on the issues that need your attention.
The Power of an Inner Circle
And then there’s our inner circle of friends.
My closest male friends.
The couples Kathryn and I walk closely with.
The women who strengthen and encourage my wife.
Even though Kathryn and I are very close - and work together on top of everything else - she draws strength from her closest friends in ways that ultimately strengthen our marriage.
These relationships matter more than we can imagine and sometimes more than we like to admit.
They’re safe.
They’re honest.
They’re built on trust that’s been earned over time.
I can talk, and they listen.
They speak truth without drama.
They hold space without trying to fix.
And they pray.
Not just with us, but for us, even when we’re not around.
There’s something deeply encouraging about knowing people speak well of you behind your back.
There’s something even more powerful about knowing they’re talking to God about you; asking Him to show up, to help, to bring peace and strength where it’s needed.
That kind of support changes how heavy a week like this feels.
The Margins That Matter
Then there’s the less visible side of resilience: infrastructure.
Margins we’ve built intentionally over years.
Financial margin - savings, budgeting, flexibility.
Time margin - space to respond instead of react.
Structural margin - systems that don’t collapse when attention is divided.
Those things don’t make the situation easier.
But they make it survivable without unnecessary damage.
And that matters more than most people realize - until they need it.
Many of you reading this are business owners and leaders. This all translates directly to running our companies.
In our book, Fulfilled: The Passion & Provision Strategy for Building a Business with Profit, Purpose & Legacy, we talk about how you have to lower your sails when you’re in a storm or you risk breaking the mast. Having the various types of infrastructure in place is like being prepared for those storms and it lets you survive when the big winds start to blow.
Like your little sister facing a fight for her life.
An Unexpected Gift
There’s something else I didn’t expect.
Cancer in your family has a strange side effect.
People ask how you’re doing. And when you answer honestly - not dramatically, just truthfully - something surprising happens.
Stories come out.
People begin sharing experiences they rarely talk about.
Moments they’ve carried quietly.
Journeys they never had space to name.
And there’s encouragement in that for both sides.
In just the last 24 hours, I had two men share their stories about their moms having brain cancer. One of them had the same surgeon my sister had.
That kind of connection is powerful.
Shared stories do something you can feel.
They steady you.
They strengthen your countenance.
They remind you that you’re not alone on a path you didn’t choose.
A True Ending (Not a Tidy One)
We’re still in the middle of this.
There are unknowns ahead.
There’s a medical journey unfolding in real time.
There are questions without answers yet.
And I won’t pretend otherwise.
But I will say this:
Weeks like this reveal what actually sustains you.
They show you where your life is strong and where it needs attention.
They remind you that leadership isn’t just about what you can produce, but about what you can carry without breaking.
If this story resonates with you - if you’re facing uncertainty of your own - my encouragement is simple:
Don’t wait for the storm to start building resilience.
Invest in what holds you up.
Strengthen the relationships that steady you.
Create margins where you can.
And don’t underestimate the power of faith, community, and shared stories.
Because life won’t schedule its crises around your capacity.
But you can grow your capacity, on purpose, before the next wave hits.
Your Turn
If any part of this resonated with you,
even a sentence,
even a tension you’ve been feeling,
Would you reply and tell me?
I read every reply.
Until then -
Stay grounded.
Stay growing.
And God bless,
- Michael Redman
Half a Bubble Out (aka: HaBO)
Business Consulting | Leadership Coaching
