By Kendra Stearns Drozd, Bluffton, SC
The Planner Meets the Unpredictable
I spent the first part of my career in environments where control mattered. In advertising, I coordinated Colonel Sanders lookalikes at Cubs games, making sure they followed the rules (no smoking, no drinking). At Kraft Foods, I managed brand launches with timelines, budgets, and consumer research. As an executive recruiter, I matched candidates to roles with precision. Success came from planning, executing, and staying on top of every detail.
Then I became a mother to four daughters, and everything I thought I knew about control unraveled.
When the Plan Falls Apart
Early motherhood was humbling. I had studied hard to raise my GPA in college. I had set my sights on Kellogg, Kraft, and a marketing career, and I had made it happen through discipline and focus. I believed that the same approach would work with parenting. Be present, be intentional, follow the right steps, and the results would follow.
But children don’t operate on timelines. They get sick on the day you have something important scheduled. They struggle with things you thought would come easily. They surprise you with strengths in places you never expected. And no amount of preparation can predict how four different people will grow into themselves.
After my third daughter was born, I made the decision to step away from full-time work to focus on raising my children. That shift required its own kind of letting go. I had to release the professional identity I had built and trust that what I was doing at home mattered just as much, even when there was no performance review or promotion to validate it.
What I Learned from Stepping Back
One of the most important lessons came from a quote I heard long before I became a parent. Maya Angelou said, “Your eyes should light up when your child enters the room.” I first heard that about 20 years before I had kids, but it stayed with me.
That simple idea became a guidepost. It reminded me that my job was not to control outcomes or manufacture perfect children. It was to show up, to be excited to see them, and to let them know they mattered. My grandma gave me that same gift when I was growing up. She was always excited to see me. That feeling of being valued, not for what I achieved but simply for being myself, shaped me more than any lesson plan ever could.
Letting go of control meant accepting that I could not script their lives. I could not protect them from every disappointment or engineer every success. What I could do was be present, listen, and create space for them to figure things out on their own.
The Gift of Watching Them Grow
Motherhood also taught me to appreciate who my daughters actually are, rather than who I thought they should be. I played competitive tennis growing up. I was captain of my high school varsity team and played at Williams College for four years. Tennis taught me discipline, resilience, and how to push through challenges. I wanted to pass those lessons on.
But not all of my daughters are athletes. Not all of them thrive in competition the same way I did. And that is okay. Letting go of my own expectations allowed me to see their individual strengths and support them in ways that made sense for who they are, not who I imagined they would be.
The same principle applies to how they handle failure and setbacks. I have always believed in the “fake it until you make it” approach, and I shared the poem “Thinking” by Walter D. Wintle with them countless times. It starts with, “If you think you are beaten, you are; if you think you dare not, you don’t.” That mindset helped me raise my GPA in college and reach the goals I set for myself in my career. But I have learned that my daughters need to find their own ways of dealing with self-doubt. My job is to offer tools, not to demand they use the same ones I did.
Success Looks Different Now
Before I had children, I measured success by clear milestones: landing the job, completing the project, hitting the target. Now, success is happiness and contentedness. It is having four happy, healthy girls who know they are loved and valued. It is watching them grow into themselves, even when that path looks nothing like the one I would have chosen for them.
That shift required me to let go of the idea that I could control the outcome. I could not guarantee they would avoid pain or struggle. I could not shield them from every hardship. What I could do was walk beside them, offer support, and trust that they would find their way.
What Letting Go Actually Means
Letting go of control does not mean stepping back entirely or giving up responsibility. It means recognizing the difference between what I can influence and what I cannot. I can be present. I can be intentional with my time, which is the one thing I cannot get more of. I can make sure my daughters know I am excited to see them every day. I can listen, encourage, and create a home where they feel safe to try new things, make mistakes, and figure out who they are.
But I cannot live their lives for them. And the more I have released the need to manage every detail, the more I have been able to enjoy watching them become the people they are meant to be.
A Lesson That Extends Beyond Parenting
This lesson has shaped more than just my role as a mother. It has influenced how I approach my work as a Stephen Minister, offering confidential emotional and spiritual support to people facing difficult life challenges. As a Stephen Minister, my role is to walk beside someone during grief, illness, or crisis, not to fix their problems or control their outcomes. Stephen Ministers care for people, but only God cures people.
The same principle applies. I cannot control what happens to my care receivers. I can listen, reflect, and offer steady support. I can be present in their pain without needing to solve it. That kind of presence requires trust, patience, and a willingness to let go of the urge to manage every outcome.
Motherhood taught me that. And it continues to teach me, every day, as my daughters grow and I learn to step back and let them lead their own lives.
