I was nine the day my dad sold his entire herd of dairy cows.
A long and devastating drought had forced his hand. As the cattle truck rumbled down the laneway, I looked up at him and asked:

“How will we get money now, Dad?”

“I don’t know, Margie,” he said, before adding, “But we have to trust the Good Lord will provide.”

My nine-year-old brain tried to imagine how—
Would we win the lottery?
Would a bag of cash just appear on the back verandah?

Neither happened.

Rather, Dad did whatever it took—handyman work, baling hay, building cabins by the nearby lake.

We wore hand-me-downs, never ate out, and bartered milk for fish.

We never went hungry. But an insecurity was planted in me that day—a deep, subconscious fear of ever feeling that vulnerable again.

For decades, it shaped how I approached money, risk, and success —long after I’d outgrown the circumstances that created it.

Last weekend, back on the farm to celebrate Dad’s 90th, I stood with him by that same cattle dock—now weathered and overgrown—and reflected on just how many of us still carry psychological scar tissue from our childhoods.

Often, it’s this old emotional wiring—not a lack of opportunity or intellect—that most limits our future and sabotages our success.

As I wrote in The Courage Gap, working through the moments our young brains interpreted as “near-death” (even if they weren’t) is essential for any adult who wants to truly flourish and critical for transformational leadership.

So let me ask you:

What old fear still has an outsized influence on your decisions today?
And what would it take to stop letting it run the show?

The pen is still in your hand.