(FORTUNE Small Business) – Last year, as my family's plastic-bag-manufacturing company struggled with skyrocketing sales growth, our customer service manager, Cathy Gray, walked into my office and demanded to know when we were going to buy additional equipment or else start shedding less profitable accounts. Her pointed comments helped drive our decision to finally buy more than $2 million worth of new machines.

That was typical of Cathy. When she retired in May, I lost not only a great customer service manager but also my most trusted--often my only--nonfamily advisor. Cathy, who had worked with us for more than 30 years, had that rare talent for speaking truth to power. If she disagreed with a decision or thought I wasn't addressing a problem, she told me. Unlike many employees who can't see beyond their own functions, Cathy possessed an innate understanding of strategy, and I relied on her perspective when we were making big decisions.

So I dreaded Cathy's retirement. How would I replace her insight and courage? At first I figured I'd search out those qualities in her replacement. But at least part of Cathy's strength springs from her familiarity with our business and the easy relationship she enjoys with our family. Those qualities you just can't hire in. Instead Cathy's retirement has prompted me to rethink how I manage. Rather than relying on one trusted advisor, I've begun to reach out more consistently to my entire management group. Or rather, I've started down the arduous road of actually forming a coherent management team that I feel comfortable relying on.

What? No management team? To tell you the truth, we've grown our business to more than $30 million in annual sales largely on an entrepreneurial model. In the beginning my father made most of the decisions. When I came into the business seven years ago, much of his authority shifted to me. I worked more closely with my siblings on major decisions and pulled in expertise to handle day-to-day operating duties. But strategic planning and problem solving remained firmly implanted in my head, with ad hoc advice from others. Cathy's departure kicked one leg from under my management stool. Our dramatic growth--60% over the past 24 months--kicked out the other. I simply can't handle the volume of intellectual tasks coming at me anymore.

I began my change by turning to those closest to me, my siblings. We own equal shares of the business, but my tendency has been to guard decision-making power. Over the past few months I've reached out, asking their advice on issues such as what equipment we should buy. I've also turned over more authority for sales management to my brother, who until now has acted mainly as a key account manager. Offloading some other tasks has given me more time for problem solving.

But even when it comes to problems, I've begun seeking help. I've turned my weekly management meeting, which used to be a mind-numbing review of weekly sales and production numbers, into a brainstorming session chaired by other managers. Each week I ask a different manager to pick a topic he'd like our seven-member team to discuss. The chair sets the agenda, leads the meeting, and produces action items for us to follow up on. The process has already helped us identify ways to cut lead times.

The changes have also forced me to recognize that I have people on staff whose expertise I have failed to tap. For instance, in late April our plant manager, whom I hadn't ever consulted about our shipping department, produced a clever scheme to overhaul our warehouse practices. That change has already reduced shipping errors. Of course, I'm not quite ready to let Cathy go. She has volunteered to help out when needed and agreed that I can call her for lunch when necessary. But her parting advice to me was "reach out" and "get help." So far, I think I've followed it to the letter.