Staying With It
Leadership is built through faithful presence and quiet persistence, not sudden clarity.
For a long time, I believed leadership arrived all at once.
With a title.
With clarity.
With that internal click that says, Now. Now you know what you’re doing.
It turns out that moment is mostly a myth.
What actually shapes a leader is quieter than that. Slower. Less cinematic.
It’s the decision to stay.
To stay when the work is complicated.
To stay when progress is incremental and invisible.
To stay when the middle stretches longer than you expected.
For me, staying has never been about sheer grit.
It has always been grounded in faith.
Not the kind that makes everything easy—but the kind that steadies you when it isn’t.
The Kind of Leadership That Doesn’t Announce Itself
Early in my career, I thought strong leaders were decisive and certain. I assumed they moved quickly, spoke confidently, and always knew what came next.
Some do.
But the leaders who shaped me most—and the leadership I’ve grown into—look different.
It asks better questions instead of offering fast answers.
It listens longer than is comfortable.
It pays attention to people as much as outcomes.
Faith has shaped that posture in me.
It has taught me patience when I want resolution.
Humility when I want control.
And the discipline to act with integrity, even when recognition is unlikely.
I’ve learned that leadership doesn’t need to be loud to be effective.
It needs to be anchored.
The Long Middle No One Prepares You For
There is a stretch in every career that doesn’t get named often enough.
You’re no longer new.
You’re not at the beginning.
But you’re also not finished becoming who you’re meant to be.
You’re capable—but still stretching.
Confident—but still questioning.
Accomplished—but not always affirmed.
This is where many women pause. Or quietly step back. Or wonder if they misread the calling altogether.
This is also where faith matters most.
Because when external markers thin out, faith becomes the reminder that purpose doesn’t disappear just because progress feels slow.
The most important advice I ever received during one of these seasons was simple:
Stay with it. Keep moving forward.
Not because the path is clear.
Not because the work is easy.
But because faithfulness often matters more than visibility.
Influence Is Rarely a Solo Act
I’ve never grown alone.
Every meaningful step in my career traces back to people—mentors who challenged me, colleagues who trusted me, leaders who created space rather than guarding it.
And beneath all of that, a faith that reminded me I was never carrying the work by myself.
Leadership, I’ve learned, isn’t self-made.
It’s community-shaped and spiritually sustained.
Faith doesn’t remove responsibility. It deepens it.
It calls you to lead with courage and compassion.
To hold standards without hardening.
To make room for others rather than competing for position.
That kind of leadership takes time.
And it takes trust.
Rethinking What Counts as Impact
We are surrounded by metrics now. Numbers. Reach. Speed. Visibility.
Those things matter.
But they don’t tell the whole story.
Some of the most meaningful impact I’ve witnessed has been quiet:
A teacher rediscovering confidence.
A team learning to trust one another.
A system improving because someone finally asked, Why do we do it this way?
Faith has helped me redefine success.
Not as constant acceleration—but as alignment.
Not as recognition—but as stewardship.
Leadership is less about producing outcomes and more about shaping environments where people can grow, think, and thrive.
Even when no one is applauding.
What I’d Tell Women Building Their Way Forward
You don’t need a fully formed plan to move.
Clarity often follows obedience.
Confidence follows experience.
And purpose sharpens through use.
Stay with the work that feels meaningful, even when it’s inconvenient.
Seek mentors—and become one when you’re able.
Resist the temptation to measure your progress against someone else’s timeline.
And when things feel uncertain—when the work feels heavy or the path unclear—remember this:
Uncertainty doesn’t mean you’re off course.
Often, it means you’re being shaped.
The Quiet Strength of Staying
Leadership isn’t always momentum. Sometimes it’s endurance.
It’s practiced in small, daily choices—how you listen, how you respond, how you lead when no one is watching.
I’ve learned that influence doesn’t require perfection.
It requires presence.
It doesn’t demand certainty.
It asks for faithfulness.
So if you’re in a season where staying feels harder than starting—stay anyway.
Stay grounded.
Stay open.
Stay with it.
The work you’re doing may feel quiet. But over time, it becomes steady. And that steadiness shapes far more than you realize.
