Renee:
Every year, the Soulful Leadership Retreat overlaps with school. And every year, that reality asks me to pause and decide how I want to lead, not just in the room, but at home.
I used to think that overlap was a problem I needed to solve.
In the early years, home and work felt like two competing worlds. On retreat week, my calendar would be full of conversations, logistics, emotions, and responsibilities. At the same time, there were lunches to pack, permission slips to sign, rides to coordinate, and kids who needed me in very tangible ways.
Back then, integration looked like exhaustion. I was constantly switching roles from holding space for a room of leaders to standing in a school pickup line trying to do both well, often feeling like I was never fully in either place.
Later, that shifted.
There were seasons when the kids came with us. Eden stood on stage and watched what leadership looked like when it was relational and human. Xen gravitated toward the AV team, learning how the room worked from behind the scenes, quietly absorbing more than anyone realized.
Those years were beautiful in their own way. They worked because they matched who our kids were and what they needed at the time.
This year doesn’t look like that.
They’re older now. High school is heavier, with advanced classes. Their schedules are fuller. And this time, they made the call; they didn’t want to miss school.
That mattered to me.
So this year, integration looks like driving back and forth for the first few days. School drop-off in the morning. Retreat responsibilities during the day. Home again at night. Then, once they’re settled, staying on-site to fully land in the experience.
It’s not efficient. And it’s definitely not how any productivity book would recommend doing it.
But leadership at home has taught me that efficiency is rarely the highest value.
What matters more is presence. Listening. Respecting the autonomy our kids are growing into. Showing them that leadership doesn’t mean choosing one world at the expense of another, it means finding a way to honor both.
Mark:
I learned this lesson the hard way.
There was a season earlier in our journey when I believed leadership meant being endlessly available. If someone needed me, I showed up. If there was an opportunity, I said yes. If a room needed energy, I brought it.
And slowly, without realizing it, that version of leadership started leaking into our home in ways that didn’t feel aligned.
I remember one night sitting at the dinner table, phone face down but buzzing constantly. I was technically present, but not really there. One of the kids asked me something simple, and I caught myself giving a half-answer while my mind was somewhere else entirely.
Renee noticed before I did.
Later that night, she said something gently but clearly, not accusing, just honest.
“You lead everyone else so well,” she said. “I need you to lead here too.”
That landed.
What I realized in that moment was that leadership at home isn’t about authority or direction. It’s about attunement. It’s noticing when your energy has left the room, even if your body hasn’t.
From that point on, I started redefining leadership for myself. It meant protecting dinner time. Closing the laptop earlier than felt comfortable. Choosing to be fully present for conversations that mattered.
Ironically, the more I honored leadership at home, the more grounded and effective I became in business.
Because leadership isn’t something you turn on and off. It’s who you are everywhere.
Renee:
One of my clearest reminders of this came during a particularly full season. We were preparing for a retreat, clients were in transition, and life felt like it was asking for attention from every direction.
One afternoon, I was folding laundry and mentally rehearsing logistics when Eden walked in and sat down without saying anything. I kept folding, half listening, until I realized the quiet meant something.
So I stopped. Sat down next to her. And waited.
What came next wasn’t about school or schedules. It was about identity. Pressure. The weight of expectations she felt, some spoken, some not.
In that moment, leadership didn’t look like advice. It looked like listening without fixing. Like letting her lead the conversation at her own pace.
Later that night, after the house was quiet, I realized something.
That same skill is what makes our retreats work.
People don’t come because we have answers. They come because we create space. Because we listen. Because we honor timing and truth.
The leadership I practice at home sharpens the leadership I bring into the room. And the leadership I practice in business reminds me to trust presence over control at home.
They feed each other.
Mark:
What we’ve learned, year after year, is that leadership doesn’t require sacrificing what matters most.
It requires discernment.
There are seasons when immersion is right. And there are seasons when flexibility is the higher form of leadership.
Renee driving back and forth this year isn’t a compromise. It’s a reflection of her values.
Leadership overlaps with school drop-off because life overlaps with leadership.
And when you stop trying to separate them, something powerful happens.
You stop performing leadership. And you start living it.