The Gifts of Fear

Here I am Sunday, playing the "keys" and singing to keep my nerves down. (Photo courtesy of my friend Raleigh who sat right up front to support me!)

Early this year, I got a wild idea: join the church music team. Excited, I reached out to the team leader and he sent me the online application, which I quickly filled in and marked "no" to the question about experience playing with chord charts. I grew up playing piano (please overlook with me that it had been 35 years since I regularly played), so I could just learn the sheet music, I reasoned.

We met for coffee and he shared how they ran their audition and integration. And it came up again: chord charts. I began to sense there was no getting around this. I am embarrassed to admit that I did what no responsible adult would ever do - I let it drop. Whenever I went to church, I watched the "keys," trying to gauge the difficulty from my vantage point. But I never scheduled my audition.

Then a couple of months later he reached back out to me, and I admitted my fear of this unknown thing called chord charts. But I agreed to try. He sent me some tutorials, the audition music, and we set an audition date. With a date on the calendar and someone depending on me, I was committed. I probably spent 15 hours learning what chord charts were and another 25 learning that first set of music. As part of my prep, one Sunday I went in to watch the team rehearse before the services and was amazed at their professionalism and talent, and who they were as people, which I got to experience when they were not performing.

It was done. I had to make it. I loved the people.

What I knew all along was that this was about way more than playing music. I was seeking three things that had been short in my life since I retired: service, new friendships, and learning.

I passed my audition. The team leader suggested I perform one evening at high school service to get more comfortable with the tech. I learned three new songs for that, growing more comfortable with chord charts and the setup along the way.

This past Sunday was my debut. It was fantastic. I was not fantastic. But IT was. It met all three goals: I got to serve, I got to meet new and engaging people, and I pushed even further outside my comfort zone. I’m okay that I was far from perfect, because when you have a group of people dedicated to a common purpose and your collective success, you’ve got each other's back.

That’s what today's newsletter is about.

Not music. Not church bands. The gap between what you know and what you don’t know. That space is not an obstacle. It is the whole point. And it shows up the same way whether you are stepping into a new role, launching a second career, or finally scheduling the audition you’ve been avoiding. The purpose and the people who support you in it are what makes your growth possible.

If you want to close the gap between where you are and where you are trying to go, here are three things to think about this week:

1. Fear is information, not a stop sign. The chord charts were not the real obstacle. The real obstacle was the gap between who I thought I was (someone who knows music) and what I did not know (a whole new way of reading it). That gap felt like unreadiness. It was not. It was the entrance. Every meaningful transition starts at exactly that feeling: the moment you realize your existing competence does not fully transfer. That is not failure approaching. It’s growth beginning.

2. A date on the calendar makes it real. I circled that audition for months. What finally moved me was not courage or motivation. It was accountability: someone was depending on me and there was a date on the calendar. Commitment precedes confidence, not the other way around. If you are waiting to feel ready before you schedule the thing, you will wait a long time. Put the date down first. You will figure it out along the way.

3. The people are the point. I thought I was joining a band. What I found was a group of people committed to something larger than their individual performance, who had each other's backs when things were not perfect, and who welcomed someone fumbling through her first set. That is what great teams do, and it is what great leaders build. Admitting what you do not know is not a weakness. It is often what earns you trust and signals to your team that it is safe to do the same. You do not find those people by staying where it’s comfortable. You find them at the edge of something new, where everyone else is also figuring it out.

The leap from what you know to what you don’t is rarely as wide as it looks from a distance. But you have to schedule the audition to find that out. We only learn when we step outside our comfort zone. The fear, the uncertainty, even the mistakes are not signs you are doing it wrong. They are signs you are doing it at all.

If you’re in the middle of a transition right now, or circling one you have not quite committed to, that discomfort is a signal that you are standing at the right door. Step through it. The people on the other side are worth it.

What’s waiting on the other side of yours?

Build the life you are working for.

— Sarah

P.S. Speaking of learning new things with new people, this week on the Future Walk Podcast, my guest Anthony Baker, a Naval Academy graduate and retired Navy SEAL Captain, shares how he transitioned from decades in military special operations to developing a leadership program and ecosystem for Hayden Beverage Company, recognizing that leadership is leadership and people are people, and common principles elevate you and your mission no matter what that is. Listen here The Future Walk Podcast | Linktree and Leaders Bring the Weather. You can also read about Anthony’s program here: How One L&D Leader Scales Emotional Intelligence At Work.

P.P.S. The title of this issue is a nod to Gavin de Becker's book The Gift of Fear, which I read years ago and still recommend. His thesis: true fear is a signal worth trusting, not suppressing.