Life doesn’t hand out guarantees.
No matter how much we plan, prepare, pray, or push, there will be chapters of our story that unravel in ways we never saw coming. That’s one of the hardest truths I’ve had to accept—not just for myself, but even more so when watching my children face disappointments that feel unfair and too heavy for their growing hearts.
You can do everything “right.” You can train, practice, study, and show up with your whole heart—and still, the outcome may not match the effort. Sometimes, doors close without warning. Sometimes, people make choices that leave us on the outside looking in. Sometimes, it feels like all our work was for nothing. But it wasn’t. Even when it doesn’t end the way we hoped, the journey still matters. The trying still matters. The heart we put into it still matters.
It took me a long time to understand that life isn’t a straight line from effort to reward. It’s a winding, unpredictable path filled with plot twists and detours. Like a book with chapters, you didn’t expect to read, life hands us moments that shift the storyline. And the hardest part is, we don’t get to skip ahead to see how it all works out. We just have to keep turning the pages—trusting that even the messy middle is part of a greater narrative being written.
There is a deep ache that comes when you watch your child discover that truth for the first time. When they learn that working hard doesn’t always lead to the dream they’ve carried in their heart. When they face rejection, injury, or loss and look to you for answers you don’t have. I’ve stood in those moments, trying to hold myself together while inside, I’m falling apart. I want to take the pain for them, to rewrite the chapter, to promise that everything will make sense soon.
But I can’t.
And that’s where the doubt creeps in. That quiet voice that whispers, You failed them. You should’ve done more. Protected better. Prepared harder.
But here’s another truth I’m learning: Just because I couldn’t control the outcome doesn’t mean I failed as a parent.
My job has never been to pave the road perfectly—it’s been to walk beside them as they learn how to keep going even when the road is hard. To remind them that they are more than the win or the role or the recognition. To teach them that disappointment is not the end, but a chapter. A comma, not a period.
I’ve come to live by the belief that what is meant to be will be. It’s not always easy. In fact, it’s gut-wrenching at times. But I’ve watched life reroute in ways I never imagined—opening doors I didn’t even know existed because others had closed.
Still, trusting that truth doesn’t erase the sting of the moment. It doesn’t make it easier to watch your child grieve something they loved or worked for. It doesn’t stop the tears when they ask why? and you don’t have an answer.
But what it does do is give me a flicker of peace in the chaos. It reminds me that this isn’t the end of their story. That sometimes the pain is the preface to something greater. That our greatest strength is often built in the very places we wanted to skip over.
So I keep turning the page. Even when it’s hard. Even when it hurts. Even when the ending is still unknown.
Because I believe—deep in my bones—that this journey, with all its challenges, is shaping them, and me, into who we are meant to be.
And maybe that’s the most important truth of all.
Maked Mom
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