Not every child’s story is written in straight lines. Some paths are winding, filled with stops and starts, failures and second chances. And sometimes, those turns—the ones that feel most painful in the moment—lead to destinations more powerful than we could have imagined.
My son is 23 now, but his journey has been anything but conventional. After high school, he tried what so many kids are told is the “right” path: college. He pushed through two years at a community college, working hard, and eventually earned his associate’s degree. It wasn’t easy, but he did it. When he transferred to a university, though, the road became steeper. The spark wasn’t there. The work didn’t feel meaningful. Eventually, he dropped out, carrying with him the heavy weight of defeat.
But here’s the thing about him: he didn’t stop.
He decided to try EMT school. It felt right—like maybe this was the calling he had been searching for. He threw himself into the semester, studied hard, and completed the program. But when the state exam came, he failed.
Still, he refused to quit. He went back, retook the semester, and this time he excelled, earning an A. His confidence was back. But then, when he sat for the state test again, the result was the same: he failed.
I saw the disappointment in his eyes. Two tries, two failures—it would have been easy to give up. Many people would have. But he still pushed forward.
He applied to a local fire department. He dreamed of wearing that uniform, of serving his community. He didn’t get hired.
Another setback. Another door closed.
But here’s where the story begins to turn.
A year ago, he applied to another department. This time, something different happened. He passed the pre-tests. He nailed the interviews. He crushed the physical exams. He got in. But as every firefighter will tell you, that’s only the beginning.
The fire academy began—and it was grueling. Long hours. Brutal physical demands. Endless drills and endless exams. The kind of training designed to push even the strongest to their limits. And yet, he showed up every single day. He dug deep. He fought through the exhaustion, the self-doubt, the memories of all the times he had failed before.
And last night, he made it.
He walked across the stage, graduated from the fire academy, and became a firefighter.
This journey has taught me more than I can ever put into words. It taught me that not all of our kids are made for college. That failure does not mean the end—it’s often just the beginning. That resilience is born in the moments when everything seems to fall apart, and you choose to stand up again anyway.
Our children will stumble. They will fail—sometimes a lot. But if we stand by them, if we pick up the pieces and guide them, even at 22 or 23, they will find their path. And sometimes, that path is far greater than the one we first imagined for them.
Because in the end, they aren’t meant to write our story. They’re meant to write their own. And my son—my firefighter—has just begun.
