Be Open to Outcome: A Story of Surrender and Starting Over
- Renate Stoiber
- May 29
- 5 min read
I just returned from my son’s graduation from Worcester Polytechnic Institute (WPI) in Massachusetts—a moment of pride, excitement and anticipation as he prepares to start a new chapter in Germany.
But this post isn’t about the graduation.
Each time I’ve come to the East Coast—drop-off, a visit, graduation—I’ve made time for Carolina Beach, where a dear friend lives. It’s not exactly nearby, but once you’re on the right coast, it feels close enough. And every visit has offered space to reflect and reset.
This is a story of new beginnings. Of surrender. Of loosening the grip on certainty and making space for something unfamiliar to take shape.
If you’ve ever felt change pressing in, or found yourself between chapters, I invite you to walk with me.
A New Life
"Now we look inside, and what we see is that anyone united with the Messiah
gets a fresh start, is created new.
The old life is gone; a new life emerges!"
(2. Cor. 5:17 MSG, emphasis added)
My new life began back in 2001, when I found a warm, welcoming church community that opened the door to deeper spiritual growth. Over the years, that life was forming—slowly, quietly, sometimes in the background.
But transformation rarely is instant. Sometimes it brews below the surface for years—until a season of disruption brings it fully into view.
Twenty years later, amid a divorce and an emptying nest, it was no longer just forming. It was emerging.
And the truth is, it still is—stick around, there’s more at the end.
A Place of Sanctuary for the Emerging Life
It was 2021. I had just dropped off my freshman son at college—and I wasn’t ready to walk back into the silence of an empty home.
So I headed south to Carolina Beach, where my friend welcomed me with open arms—and gave me space to feel everything that was rising to the surface. What she offered wasn’t just hospitality. It was sanctuary. A place where my heart and mind could begin to process what this “new normal” might look like. A place to grieve, to reflect, to prepare.
At the time, I was still in a high-pressure job—running at 150%. Still clinging to a schedule that didn’t leave space for breath.
But I knew, both from scripture and experience, I had to slow down. I had to create space to connect with the One who steadies me for seasons of change.
Slowing Down to See Clearly
So I walked.
Morning after morning, evening after evening—mile after mile along the beach.
The steady rhythm of the Atlantic, the changing light of the sky, the softness of the shore beneath my feet—this became my daily ritual of reconnection.
Over those weeks, peace slowly returned.
My nervous system, my thoughts, my spirit—all began to settle.
The outline of my next season came into focus. Like the view through the reeds, it wasn’t entirely clear. But it was there. And that was enough.
The Power of Surrender
"Seek his will in all you do, and he will show you which path to take."
Proverbs 3:6 (NLT)
A year later, I found myself back at my dear friend’s home—and once again, at a pivotal moment in my life. During that visit, I learned about an internal job opening that, on paper, looked like the perfect next step—a natural and logical career progression. But something in me hesitated. I couldn’t quite tell if applying was the right move.
I knelt in prayer and surrendered the decision. I applied. And what followed was nothing short of divine reassurance: deep peace throughout every interview. Steady. Quiet. Unshaken.
And yet... I wasn’t selected.
But instead of disappointment, I felt only gratitude. In the time that followed, I came to see what I had been spared—complexities and tensions that would have drained me daily. That “no” was one of God’s kindest yeses.
Embracing New Beginnings
"For I know the plans I have for you,” says the Lord.
“They are plans for good and not for disaster, to give you a future and a hope."
Jeremiah 29:11 (NLT)
Fast-forward to May 2025. Once again, I stood at Carolina Beach—this time with a full heart.
In just a few years, I had earned my ICF coaching certification, left a job that no longer fit, circled the globe, and said “yes” to my calling: coming along others through seasons of transition and transformation.
That week, on the beach with the gentle coaching of my long-time friend and marketing professional, I sketched the first logo for Renate Stoiber Coaching.
Have you spotted it in the Reflection prompts? What do you think?
I'd love your feedback.
That same week, two incredible people became the first clients of my new coaching business. Their trust still humbles me.
Not the End of the Story
That week felt like a culmination—of vision, trust, and calling.
But once I returned home and settled back into writing and self-reflection, something from my months of travel began to stir again. A familiar feeling—one I first couldn’t quite name—rose to the surface.
It reminded me that the transformation that had begun wasn’t finished. Not even close.
Rest, Resistance, and Transformation (Still in Progress)
For this is what Adonai Elohim, the Holy One of Isra’el, says:
“Returning and resting is what will save you;
calmness and confidence will make you strong —
but you want none of this!"
(Isaiah 30:15, CJB, emphasis added)
This verse has followed me for years—especially during my decades in high-tech, where I was trained to prioritize productivity, performance, and outcomes.
So when I stepped out of that environment and set off on a 4.5-month travel journey, I thought I had created the perfect reset: a spacious season designed with intention—time to create content for my new coaching business, to volunteer, and to soak in the wonder of travel and exploration.
No deadlines. No external pressure.
And yet… guilt showed up almost immediately.
Guilt when I was sightseeing instead of working.
Guilt when I was working instead of sightseeing.
No one else was pressuring me—except me.
Sound familiar?
It’s humbling how deeply decades of outcome-driven living can etch themselves into our nervous systems. Even when the pace changes, the internal pressure can stay.
But here’s the hopeful part: neuroscience tells us we can rewire that.
I want that for me. And I want that for you.
In my coaching, I’ve long focused on helping clients connect heart and mind—because, as I often say, we make decisions more with our hearts than our heads.
Now, I’m going a step further.
I’m doing something wildly uncomfortable for someone who used to write personal V2MOMs every year. 😅
(Salesforce friends, you know exactly what I mean. For everyone else—it’s a structured business planning tool for organizational alignment. And yes, I was very “aligned” with myself.)
So this season?
No hard goals. No tight timelines. Just intentional space.
I’m exploring the neuroscience of what it takes to rewire a brain shaped by a fast-paced, high-performance life.
Before diving into the science, I paused here—standing at the top of these weathered steps, looking out at the open, empty beach.
No clear destination. Just space.
The invitation wasn’t to plan the next thing.
It was to be in the in-between.
I’m learning how to rest without resistance—how to make space for what might emerge.
And I’m returning to something my very first coach told me, many years ago—a truth I've been trying to live with varying degrees of success:
Let’s see what transformation grows from that.
I'm usually not a big fan of photos of myself. But I feel this one nicely captures my current spirit—in motion, full of joy, and excited about the future and the life that’s still unfolding, one day at a time. Still in motion. Still becoming. And full of joy.
Wish me luck. And maybe—give yourself a little space, too.
With gratitude,
Renate
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