We plan, establish objectives, and often picture our lives following a linear path — from point A to point B, then to point C — with each milestone bringing us closer to the success we envision. We’re taught from a young age to chart our futures, to set goals and pursue them relentlessly. We interpret detours as delays and obstacles as signs that something’s gone wrong. But life rarely unfolds in a straight line. Sometimes the plan changes. Sometimes, despite our best efforts, we find ourselves rerouted. It’s in those moments of unexpected redirection that we’re challenged the most — and that’s where faith steps in.
One of my favorite examples of this is the story of Pat Terrell. Known for his crucial interception that helped Notre Dame secure a national championship in 1988, Terrell was a key player on one of the most memorable teams in college football history. That interception — a defining moment in a high-stakes game against Miami — remains a legendary highlight, often replayed when discussing the grit and glory of Fighting Irish football.
But Pat Terrell’s journey didn’t follow the predictable script that many expected after such a monumental achievement. Yes, he was drafted into the NFL. Yes, he had a professional career. But it wasn’t long before football — the sport that had defined him and shaped so much of his early life — faded from his daily reality. Injuries, roster changes, and the relentless turnover of the league eventually forced Terrell to confront a difficult question: Who am I when the dream I pursued no longer defines me?
That’s a question many of us face. When we invest years of our lives into a vision — whether it’s a career, a relationship, or a personal goal — and it doesn’t unfold as planned, we’re left reeling. The pain of that disappointment isn’t just in the loss of the goal; it’s in the loss of the identity we attached to it. Terrell’s story reminds us that these moments, while painful, also carry an invitation: to trust the reroute, to believe that our purpose can still be fulfilled, even if the path looks different.
In the years following his football career, Terrell didn’t fade into obscurity or cling desperately to the past. He adapted. He evolved. He found new ways to serve, to lead, and to inspire. He became a motivational speaker, a mentor, and a businessman — roles that allowed him to influence lives off the field. The reroute became his new path, and while it didn’t mirror the one he’d originally envisioned, it offered meaning and impact in unexpected ways.
This concept — having faith in the reroute — speaks to something deeper than optimism. It’s not about pretending things are okay when they aren’t or minimizing the grief that can come with shattered dreams. It’s about embracing the possibility that your story isn’t over when the script changes. It’s about trusting that the detour isn’t a dead end but a redirection to a purpose you hadn’t yet imagined.
Faith in the reroute means believing there is value in the journey, even when it doesn’t look the way you thought it would. It’s acknowledging that while we can’t always control the outcomes, we can control our responses. It’s understanding that disappointment isn’t the opposite of destiny — sometimes it’s the very road that leads us to it.
Think of the countless stories that mirror this truth. The entrepreneur who faces repeated failures before creating something world-changing. The athlete who suffers a career-ending injury and goes on to coach or advocate for others. The student who doesn’t get into their dream school but finds community and success in a different environment. These aren’t just anecdotes of consolation. They’re reminders that purpose is often revealed in the pivot.
But embracing the reroute isn’t easy. It requires surrender — not in the sense of giving up, but in the sense of letting go of our rigid expectations. It requires humility to admit that our original plan may not have been the only or best one. It takes courage to walk a new path without knowing where it leads. And perhaps most importantly, it requires faith — not just in a higher power, but in ourselves, in the journey, and in the unseen possibilities ahead.
It helps to remember that reroutes often happen for reasons we can’t immediately see. Sometimes, the delays protect us from paths we weren’t ready for or lead us toward relationships, lessons, and opportunities that enrich our lives in ways the original plan never could have. It’s in the space between disappointment and discovery that growth happens. That’s where character is forged and resilience is built.
There’s a beauty in being flexible, in learning to pivot without losing your sense of self. When we allow ourselves to flow with life’s changes rather than resist them, we open the door to a more expansive understanding of success. The dream may look different, but that doesn’t make it any less valid. It just means that life, in its wisdom, is offering us a different route to get there.
Faith in the reroute also reminds us to detach our identity from outcomes. You are not your job title, your GPA, your relationship status, or the number in your bank account. You are not defined by how closely your life adheres to the original plan. You are defined by how you respond when the plan changes. Do you crumble? Or do you rise? Do you close your heart in disappointment? Or do you stay open to what might come next?
Pat Terrell could have been bitter. He could have seen his NFL career as a truncated dream and faded into resentment. But he didn’t. He chose instead to embrace what came next — to lead with character, to use his story to help others navigate their own twists and turns. He may have been rerouted, but he never stopped moving forward.
All of us will face reroutes. Some will be subtle — a job offer that falls through, a relationship that ends, a plan that stalls. Others will be seismic — a diagnosis, a loss, a change so big it knocks the wind out of us. In every case, we have a choice. We can fight the change, cling to the past, or resist the unknown. Or we can breathe, take the next step, and trust that we are being led somewhere we are meant to be.
Having faith in the reroute doesn’t mean the road will be smooth. It means believing the journey still has meaning. It means choosing hope when certainty is gone. It means showing up, day after day, even when the map is unclear. And in doing so, we often discover that the detour wasn’t a deviation at all — it was the path we were meant to walk all along.
So if you find yourself staring at a road you didn’t expect, if the plan you so carefully constructed has fallen apart, take heart. You are not lost. You are simply being rerouted. And on the other side of this detour, you may just find a version of your life that is fuller, deeper, and more meaningful than you ever imagined. Keep going. Keep trusting. The road ahead is still full of purpose.
We plan, establish objectives, and often picture our lives following a linear path — from point A to point B, then to point C — with each milestone bringing us closer to the success we envision. We’re taught from a young age to chart our futures, to set goals and pursue them relentlessly. We interpret detours as delays and obstacles as signs that something’s gone wrong. But life rarely unfolds in a straight line. Sometimes the plan changes. Sometimes, despite our best efforts, we find ourselves rerouted. It’s in those moments of unexpected redirection that we’re challenged the most — and that’s where faith steps in.
One of my favorite examples of this is the story of Pat Terrell. Known for his crucial interception that helped Notre Dame secure a national championship in 1988, Terrell was a key player on one of the most memorable teams in college football history. That interception — a defining moment in a high-stakes game against Miami — remains a legendary highlight, often replayed when discussing the grit and glory of Fighting Irish football.
But Pat Terrell’s journey didn’t follow the predictable script that many expected after such a monumental achievement. Yes, he was drafted into the NFL. Yes, he had a professional career. But it wasn’t long before football — the sport that had defined him and shaped so much of his early life — faded from his daily reality. Injuries, roster changes, and the relentless turnover of the league eventually forced Terrell to confront a difficult question: Who am I when the dream I pursued no longer defines me?
That’s a question many of us face. When we invest years of our lives into a vision — whether it’s a career, a relationship, or a personal goal — and it doesn’t unfold as planned, we’re left reeling. The pain of that disappointment isn’t just in the loss of the goal; it’s in the loss of the identity we attached to it. Terrell’s story reminds us that these moments, while painful, also carry an invitation: to trust the reroute, to believe that our purpose can still be fulfilled, even if the path looks different.
In the years following his football career, Terrell didn’t fade into obscurity or cling desperately to the past. He adapted. He evolved. He found new ways to serve, to lead, and to inspire. He became a motivational speaker, a mentor, and a businessman — roles that allowed him to influence lives off the field. The reroute became his new path, and while it didn’t mirror the one he’d originally envisioned, it offered meaning and impact in unexpected ways.
This concept — having faith in the reroute — speaks to something deeper than optimism. It’s not about pretending things are okay when they aren’t or minimizing the grief that can come with shattered dreams. It’s about embracing the possibility that your story isn’t over when the script changes. It’s about trusting that the detour isn’t a dead end but a redirection to a purpose you hadn’t yet imagined.
Faith in the reroute means believing there is value in the journey, even when it doesn’t look the way you thought it would. It’s acknowledging that while we can’t always control the outcomes, we can control our responses. It’s understanding that disappointment isn’t the opposite of destiny — sometimes it’s the very road that leads us to it.
Think of the countless stories that mirror this truth. The entrepreneur who faces repeated failures before creating something world-changing. The athlete who suffers a career-ending injury and goes on to coach or advocate for others. The student who doesn’t get into their dream school but finds community and success in a different environment. These aren’t just anecdotes of consolation. They’re reminders that purpose is often revealed in the pivot.
But embracing the reroute isn’t easy. It requires surrender — not in the sense of giving up, but in the sense of letting go of our rigid expectations. It requires humility to admit that our original plan may not have been the only or best one. It takes courage to walk a new path without knowing where it leads. And perhaps most importantly, it requires faith — not just in a higher power, but in ourselves, in the journey, and in the unseen possibilities ahead.
It helps to remember that reroutes often happen for reasons we can’t immediately see. Sometimes, the delays protect us from paths we weren’t ready for or lead us toward relationships, lessons, and opportunities that enrich our lives in ways the original plan never could have. It’s in the space between disappointment and discovery that growth happens. That’s where character is forged and resilience is built.
There’s a beauty in being flexible, in learning to pivot without losing your sense of self. When we allow ourselves to flow with life’s changes rather than resist them, we open the door to a more expansive understanding of success. The dream may look different, but that doesn’t make it any less valid. It just means that life, in its wisdom, is offering us a different route to get there.
Faith in the reroute also reminds us to detach our identity from outcomes. You are not your job title, your GPA, your relationship status, or the number in your bank account. You are not defined by how closely your life adheres to the original plan. You are defined by how you respond when the plan changes. Do you crumble? Or do you rise? Do you close your heart in disappointment? Or do you stay open to what might come next?
Pat Terrell could have been bitter. He could have seen his NFL career as a truncated dream and faded into resentment. But he didn’t. He chose instead to embrace what came next — to lead with character, to use his story to help others navigate their own twists and turns. He may have been rerouted, but he never stopped moving forward.
All of us will face reroutes. Some will be subtle — a job offer that falls through, a relationship that ends, a plan that stalls. Others will be seismic — a diagnosis, a loss, a change so big it knocks the wind out of us. In every case, we have a choice. We can fight the change, cling to the past, or resist the unknown. Or we can breathe, take the next step, and trust that we are being led somewhere we are meant to be.
Having faith in the reroute doesn’t mean the road will be smooth. It means believing the journey still has meaning. It means choosing hope when certainty is gone. It means showing up, day after day, even when the map is unclear. And in doing so, we often discover that the detour wasn’t a deviation at all — it was the path we were meant to walk all along.
So if you find yourself staring at a road you didn’t expect, if the plan you so carefully constructed has fallen apart, take heart. You are not lost. You are simply being rerouted. And on the other side of this detour, you may just find a version of your life that is fuller, deeper, and more meaningful than you ever imagined. Keep going. Keep trusting. The road ahead is still full of purpose.
We plan, establish objectives, and often picture our lives following a linear path — from point A to point B, then to point C — with each milestone bringing us closer to the success we envision. We’re taught from a young age to chart our futures, to set goals and pursue them relentlessly. We interpret detours as delays and obstacles as signs that something’s gone wrong. But life rarely unfolds in a straight line. Sometimes the plan changes. Sometimes, despite our best efforts, we find ourselves rerouted. It’s in those moments of unexpected redirection that we’re challenged the most — and that’s where faith steps in.
One of my favorite examples of this is the story of Pat Terrell. Known for his crucial interception that helped Notre Dame secure a national championship in 1988, Terrell was a key player on one of the most memorable teams in college football history. That interception — a defining moment in a high-stakes game against Miami — remains a legendary highlight, often replayed when discussing the grit and glory of Fighting Irish football.
But Pat Terrell’s journey didn’t follow the predictable script that many expected after such a monumental achievement. Yes, he was drafted into the NFL. Yes, he had a professional career. But it wasn’t long before football — the sport that had defined him and shaped so much of his early life — faded from his daily reality. Injuries, roster changes, and the relentless turnover of the league eventually forced Terrell to confront a difficult question: Who am I when the dream I pursued no longer defines me?
That’s a question many of us face. When we invest years of our lives into a vision — whether it’s a career, a relationship, or a personal goal — and it doesn’t unfold as planned, we’re left reeling. The pain of that disappointment isn’t just in the loss of the goal; it’s in the loss of the identity we attached to it. Terrell’s story reminds us that these moments, while painful, also carry an invitation: to trust the reroute, to believe that our purpose can still be fulfilled, even if the path looks different.
In the years following his football career, Terrell didn’t fade into obscurity or cling desperately to the past. He adapted. He evolved. He found new ways to serve, to lead, and to inspire. He became a motivational speaker, a mentor, and a businessman — roles that allowed him to influence lives off the field. The reroute became his new path, and while it didn’t mirror the one he’d originally envisioned, it offered meaning and impact in unexpected ways.
This concept — having faith in the reroute — speaks to something deeper than optimism. It’s not about pretending things are okay when they aren’t or minimizing the grief that can come with shattered dreams. It’s about embracing the possibility that your story isn’t over when the script changes. It’s about trusting that the detour isn’t a dead end but a redirection to a purpose you hadn’t yet imagined.
Faith in the reroute means believing there is value in the journey, even when it doesn’t look the way you thought it would. It’s acknowledging that while we can’t always control the outcomes, we can control our responses. It’s understanding that disappointment isn’t the opposite of destiny — sometimes it’s the very road that leads us to it.
Think of the countless stories that mirror this truth. The entrepreneur who faces repeated failures before creating something world-changing. The athlete who suffers a career-ending injury and goes on to coach or advocate for others. The student who doesn’t get into their dream school but finds community and success in a different environment. These aren’t just anecdotes of consolation. They’re reminders that purpose is often revealed in the pivot.
But embracing the reroute isn’t easy. It requires surrender — not in the sense of giving up, but in the sense of letting go of our rigid expectations. It requires humility to admit that our original plan may not have been the only or best one. It takes courage to walk a new path without knowing where it leads. And perhaps most importantly, it requires faith — not just in a higher power, but in ourselves, in the journey, and in the unseen possibilities ahead.
It helps to remember that reroutes often happen for reasons we can’t immediately see. Sometimes, the delays protect us from paths we weren’t ready for or lead us toward relationships, lessons, and opportunities that enrich our lives in ways the original plan never could have. It’s in the space between disappointment and discovery that growth happens. That’s where character is forged and resilience is built.
There’s a beauty in being flexible, in learning to pivot without losing your sense of self. When we allow ourselves to flow with life’s changes rather than resist them, we open the door to a more expansive understanding of success. The dream may look different, but that doesn’t make it any less valid. It just means that life, in its wisdom, is offering us a different route to get there.
Faith in the reroute also reminds us to detach our identity from outcomes. You are not your job title, your GPA, your relationship status, or the number in your bank account. You are not defined by how closely your life adheres to the original plan. You are defined by how you respond when the plan changes. Do you crumble? Or do you rise? Do you close your heart in disappointment? Or do you stay open to what might come next?
Pat Terrell could have been bitter. He could have seen his NFL career as a truncated dream and faded into resentment. But he didn’t. He chose instead to embrace what came next — to lead with character, to use his story to help others navigate their own twists and turns. He may have been rerouted, but he never stopped moving forward.
All of us will face reroutes. Some will be subtle — a job offer that falls through, a relationship that ends, a plan that stalls. Others will be seismic — a diagnosis, a loss, a change so big it knocks the wind out of us. In every case, we have a choice. We can fight the change, cling to the past, or resist the unknown. Or we can breathe, take the next step, and trust that we are being led somewhere we are meant to be.
Having faith in the reroute doesn’t mean the road will be smooth. It means believing the journey still has meaning. It means choosing hope when certainty is gone. It means showing up, day after day, even when the map is unclear. And in doing so, we often discover that the detour wasn’t a deviation at all — it was the path we were meant to walk all along.
So if you find yourself staring at a road you didn’t expect, if the plan you so carefully constructed has fallen apart, take heart. You are not lost. You are simply being rerouted. And on the other side of this detour, you may just find a version of your life that is fuller, deeper, and more meaningful than you ever imagined. Keep going. Keep trusting. The road ahead is still full of purpose.
We plan, establish objectives, and often picture our lives following a linear path — from point A to point B, then to point C — with each milestone bringing us closer to the success we envision. We’re taught from a young age to chart our futures, to set goals and pursue them relentlessly. We interpret detours as delays and obstacles as signs that something’s gone wrong. But life rarely unfolds in a straight line. Sometimes the plan changes. Sometimes, despite our best efforts, we find ourselves rerouted. It’s in those moments of unexpected redirection that we’re challenged the most — and that’s where faith steps in.
One of my favorite examples of this is the story of Pat Terrell. Known for his crucial interception that helped Notre Dame secure a national championship in 1988, Terrell was a key player on one of the most memorable teams in college football history. That interception — a defining moment in a high-stakes game against Miami — remains a legendary highlight, often replayed when discussing the grit and glory of Fighting Irish football.
But Pat Terrell’s journey didn’t follow the predictable script that many expected after such a monumental achievement. Yes, he was drafted into the NFL. Yes, he had a professional career. But it wasn’t long before football — the sport that had defined him and shaped so much of his early life — faded from his daily reality. Injuries, roster changes, and the relentless turnover of the league eventually forced Terrell to confront a difficult question: Who am I when the dream I pursued no longer defines me?
That’s a question many of us face. When we invest years of our lives into a vision — whether it’s a career, a relationship, or a personal goal — and it doesn’t unfold as planned, we’re left reeling. The pain of that disappointment isn’t just in the loss of the goal; it’s in the loss of the identity we attached to it. Terrell’s story reminds us that these moments, while painful, also carry an invitation: to trust the reroute, to believe that our purpose can still be fulfilled, even if the path looks different.
In the years following his football career, Terrell didn’t fade into obscurity or cling desperately to the past. He adapted. He evolved. He found new ways to serve, to lead, and to inspire. He became a motivational speaker, a mentor, and a businessman — roles that allowed him to influence lives off the field. The reroute became his new path, and while it didn’t mirror the one he’d originally envisioned, it offered meaning and impact in unexpected ways.
This concept — having faith in the reroute — speaks to something deeper than optimism. It’s not about pretending things are okay when they aren’t or minimizing the grief that can come with shattered dreams. It’s about embracing the possibility that your story isn’t over when the script changes. It’s about trusting that the detour isn’t a dead end but a redirection to a purpose you hadn’t yet imagined.
Faith in the reroute means believing there is value in the journey, even when it doesn’t look the way you thought it would. It’s acknowledging that while we can’t always control the outcomes, we can control our responses. It’s understanding that disappointment isn’t the opposite of destiny — sometimes it’s the very road that leads us to it.
Think of the countless stories that mirror this truth. The entrepreneur who faces repeated failures before creating something world-changing. The athlete who suffers a career-ending injury and goes on to coach or advocate for others. The student who doesn’t get into their dream school but finds community and success in a different environment. These aren’t just anecdotes of consolation. They’re reminders that purpose is often revealed in the pivot.
But embracing the reroute isn’t easy. It requires surrender — not in the sense of giving up, but in the sense of letting go of our rigid expectations. It requires humility to admit that our original plan may not have been the only or best one. It takes courage to walk a new path without knowing where it leads. And perhaps most importantly, it requires faith — not just in a higher power, but in ourselves, in the journey, and in the unseen possibilities ahead.
It helps to remember that reroutes often happen for reasons we can’t immediately see. Sometimes, the delays protect us from paths we weren’t ready for or lead us toward relationships, lessons, and opportunities that enrich our lives in ways the original plan never could have. It’s in the space between disappointment and discovery that growth happens. That’s where character is forged and resilience is built.
There’s a beauty in being flexible, in learning to pivot without losing your sense of self. When we allow ourselves to flow with life’s changes rather than resist them, we open the door to a more expansive understanding of success. The dream may look different, but that doesn’t make it any less valid. It just means that life, in its wisdom, is offering us a different route to get there.
Faith in the reroute also reminds us to detach our identity from outcomes. You are not your job title, your GPA, your relationship status, or the number in your bank account. You are not defined by how closely your life adheres to the original plan. You are defined by how you respond when the plan changes. Do you crumble? Or do you rise? Do you close your heart in disappointment? Or do you stay open to what might come next?
Pat Terrell could have been bitter. He could have seen his NFL career as a truncated dream and faded into resentment. But he didn’t. He chose instead to embrace what came next — to lead with character, to use his story to help others navigate their own twists and turns. He may have been rerouted, but he never stopped moving forward.
All of us will face reroutes. Some will be subtle — a job offer that falls through, a relationship that ends, a plan that stalls. Others will be seismic — a diagnosis, a loss, a change so big it knocks the wind out of us. In every case, we have a choice. We can fight the change, cling to the past, or resist the unknown. Or we can breathe, take the next step, and trust that we are being led somewhere we are meant to be.
Having faith in the reroute doesn’t mean the road will be smooth. It means believing the journey still has meaning. It means choosing hope when certainty is gone. It means showing up, day after day, even when the map is unclear. And in doing so, we often discover that the detour wasn’t a deviation at all — it was the path we were meant to walk all along.
So if you find yourself staring at a road you didn’t expect, if the plan you so carefully constructed has fallen apart, take heart. You are not lost. You are simply being rerouted. And on the other side of this detour, you may just find a version of your life that is fuller, deeper, and more meaningful than you ever imagined. Keep going. Keep trusting. The road ahead is still full of purpose.
closer to the success we envision. We’re taught from a young age to chart our futures, to set goals and pursue them relentlessly. We interpret detours as delays and obstacles as signs that something’s gone wrong. But life rarely unfolds in a straight line. Sometimes the plan changes. Sometimes, despite our best efforts, we find ourselves rerouted. It’s in those moments of unexpected redirection that we’re challenged the most — and that’s where faith steps in.
One of my favorite examples of this is the story of Pat Terrell. Known for his crucial interception that helped Notre Dame secure a national championship in 1988, Terrell was a key player on one of the most memorable teams in college football history. That interception — a defining moment in a high-stakes game against Miami — remains a legendary highlight, often replayed when discussing the grit and glory of Fighting Irish football.
But Pat Terrell’s journey didn’t follow the predictable script that many expected after such a monumental achievement. Yes, he was drafted into the NFL. Yes, he had a professional career. But it wasn’t long before football — the sport that had defined him and shaped so much of his early life — faded from his daily reality. Injuries, roster changes, and the relentless turnover of the league eventually forced Terrell to confront a difficult question: Who am I when the dream I pursued no longer defines me?
That’s a question many of us face. When we invest years of our lives into a vision — whether it’s a career, a relationship, or a personal goal — and it doesn’t unfold as planned, we’re left reeling. The pain of that disappointment isn’t just in the loss of the goal; it’s in the loss of the identity we attached to it. Terrell’s story reminds us that these moments, while painful, also carry an invitation: to trust the reroute, to believe that our purpose can still be fulfilled, even if the path looks different.
In the years following his football career, Terrell didn’t fade into obscurity or cling desperately to the past. He adapted. He evolved. He found new ways to serve, to lead, and to inspire. He became a motivational speaker, a mentor, and a businessman — roles that allowed him to influence lives off the field. The reroute became his new path, and while it didn’t mirror the one he’d originally envisioned, it offered meaning and impact in unexpected ways.
This concept — having faith in the reroute — speaks to something deeper than optimism. It’s not about pretending things are okay when they aren’t or minimizing the grief that can come with shattered dreams. It’s about embracing the possibility that your story isn’t over when the script changes. It’s about trusting that the detour isn’t a dead end but a redirection to a purpose you hadn’t yet imagined.
Faith in the reroute means believing there is value in the journey, even when it doesn’t look the way you thought it would. It’s acknowledging that while we can’t always control the outcomes, we can control our responses. It’s understanding that disappointment isn’t the opposite of destiny — sometimes it’s the very road that leads us to it.
Think of the countless stories that mirror this truth. The entrepreneur who faces repeated failures before creating something world-changing. The athlete who suffers a career-ending injury and goes on to coach or advocate for others. The student who doesn’t get into their dream school but finds community and success in a different environment. These aren’t just anecdotes of consolation. They’re reminders that purpose is often revealed in the pivot.
But embracing the reroute isn’t easy. It requires surrender — not in the sense of giving up, but in the sense of letting go of our rigid expectations. It requires humility to admit that our original plan may not have been the only or best one. It takes courage to walk a new path without knowing where it leads. And perhaps most importantly, it requires faith — not just in a higher power, but in ourselves, in the journey, and in the unseen possibilities ahead.
It helps to remember that reroutes often happen for reasons we can’t immediately see. Sometimes, the delays protect us from paths we weren’t ready for or lead us toward relationships, lessons, and opportunities that enrich our lives in ways the original plan never could have. It’s in the space between disappointment and discovery that growth happens. That’s where character is forged and resilience is built.
There’s a beauty in being flexible, in learning to pivot without losing your sense of self. When we allow ourselves to flow with life’s changes rather than resist them, we open the door to a more expansive understanding of success. The dream may look different, but that doesn’t make it any less valid. It just means that life, in its wisdom, is offering us a different route to get there.
Faith in the reroute also reminds us to detach our identity from outcomes. You are not your job title, your GPA, your relationship status, or the number in your bank account. You are not defined by how closely your life adheres to the original plan. You are defined by how you respond when the plan changes. Do you crumble? Or do you rise? Do you close your heart in disappointment? Or do you stay open to what might come next?
Pat Terrell could have been bitter. He could have seen his NFL career as a truncated dream and faded into resentment. But he didn’t. He chose instead to embrace what came next — to lead with character, to use his story to help others navigate their own twists and turns. He may have been rerouted, but he never stopped moving forward.
All of us will face reroutes. Some will be subtle — a job offer that falls through, a relationship that ends, a plan that stalls. Others will be seismic — a diagnosis, a loss, a change so big it knocks the wind out of us. In every case, we have a choice. We can fight the change, cling to the past, or resist the unknown. Or we can breathe, take the next step, and trust that we are being led somewhere we are meant to be.
Having faith in the reroute doesn’t mean the road will be smooth. It means believing the journey still has meaning. It means choosing hope when certainty is gone. It means showing up, day after day, even when the map is unclear. And in doing so, we often discover that the detour wasn’t a deviation at all — it was the path we were meant to walk all along.
So if you find yourself staring at a road you didn’t expect, if the plan you so carefully constructed has fallen apart, take heart. You are not lost. You are simply being rerouted. And on the other side of this detour, you may just find a version of your life that is fuller, deeper, and more meaningful than you ever imagined. Keep going. Keep trusting. The road ahead is still full of purpose.
