“Life will present moments that shock our reality, and we have to decide to keep going or pull over to the side of the road and give up.”
KEYIMANI ALFORD
I had just started making regular drives between Milwaukee and Madison. A job landed me in Madison, and I was excited about the opportunity. However, my friends, family, and church remained in Milwaukee, so I was on the road several times a week.
Winter was setting in. Frost rested on the fields. Temperatures dropped fast. I lived in an apartment right off the interstate, which made getting on and off the highway easy, but the complex sat on a steep hill. Madison used more sand than salt, and that morning the ice did not melt the way I hoped.
In the spring, I decided to buy an old truck, a 1997 Ford Bronco. I was proud of that old Ford Bronco because I spent some time fixing it up. Fresh paint. New interior. Twenty-four inch black and burgundy rims. It was quite the project. The day before, I eased down the hill and the Bronco slid. The right rim kissed the curb hard enough to jolt me. I felt it, but I kept moving. The next day I headed to Milwaukee like usual.
I passed Lake Mills and felt a shake in the front tire, but I kept going. As I approached the Johnson Creek exit and crossed the Crawfish River, everything changed. At seventy miles per hour, the right front dropped. The tire popped off and shot forward, bouncing toward the shoulder. I watched it roll past me while I held the wheel tight and kept the Bronco steady. There was a car riding in the lane right beside me. The tire missed that car, hit the curb, jumped the ditch, and disappeared into the field. I guided the Bronco to the shoulder. Three wheels on the ground. My heart was pounding, but my hands stayed steady.
I stepped out and saw it for what it was. That tire was gone. My truck could have flipped. I could have spun into the median. I could have slid into oncoming traffic. Instead, I was standing on the shoulder, alive. I was near the Rock River rest area, and all I could feel was gratitude. I made two calls: one to the towing company and the other to my friend, Schunn. He was always available when I needed him, whether it was driving me out of town for a fraternity trip or, in this case, picking me up from the side of the road to take me back to Milwaukee. The tow truck came and picked up the Bronco, which sat in the garage in Milwaukee until I replaced the tire. That drive became a mile marker I will never forget.
I looked back on it and understood something simple. Life will hand you these kinds of moments. Moments when the day you planned gets interrupted. When the route you know throws you a curve ball. You do not have to like it, but you do have to respond to it. That morning reminded me to be thankful for protection I could see and protection I could not. It also reminded me that inconvenience can be mercy in disguise.
In retrospect, I realize that protection often looks like disruption. It pulls you away from something you might be enjoying, yet grace keeps you steady when life or a wheel comes off unexpectedly. The irony of it all is that God has a unique way of making sure someone is on standby to help you through it all, and in that moment, it was my friend, Schunn.
I now understand that when the unexpected shows up, I must slow down, name what I can handle, let go of what I cannot, and rely on those who were divinely sent to support us along the journey. These days, I choose safety over speed and let the delay teach me instead of letting it define me.
Now let me ask you: Where did your plans wobble this week? Was there an interruption that might have kept you from something worse? What one small step can you take today to adjust your route without losing your peace? And who is in your corner to ensure that you still get to your destination?
The journey always has something beautiful along the way.
Keep moving forward,
Dr. Key