The Meeting I Almost Missed (and the Lesson I Didn’t Expect)

I had a bit of an adventure this week—and it started with a simple mistake.

I wrote down the wrong address for a business meeting on my calendar.

This particular organization has multiple locations. As I was getting ready to leave, my gut kept nudging me toward the location closest to my home. Something about it felt right. But instead of listening, I trusted what I had written down and drove about twenty minutes to the address on my calendar.

It was one of those snowy, messy winter days. The kind where the parking lot is half ice, half slush, and you’re not entirely sure you’ll make it back out. I pulled in, nearly got stuck, and just as I was about to get out of the car, a business acquaintance pulled up next to me.

She rolled down her window and said, “We’re at the wrong place. It’s at the location across town.”

We sat there for a minute, weighing our options. If we turned around and went to the correct meeting site, we’d be at least thirty minutes late. We debated if it was even worth it.

But here’s the thing.

The correct location was literally one mile from my house.

I convinced her we should go.

And I’m so glad we did.

That meeting was packed with information that will directly help both of our nonprofits. The connections, the insights, the conversations — it all mattered. If we had decided we were “too late” or “too far off track,” we would have missed something important.

As I drove home afterward, it hit me how much this experience mirrors what I see every day with special needs families.

So many families feel like they’re behind.

Behind where they should be.

Behind other families.

Behind some invisible timeline they never signed up for.

They question their instincts. They second-guess their decisions. They collect pieces of information but don’t always know how to put them together. And too often, right when they’re close to a breakthrough, they stop. They give up. They assume they’ve missed their chance.

But what if they haven’t?

What if they’re only one mile away?

If you’re a parent on this journey, I want to be that voice in the parking lot saying, “You’re close. Don’t stop.”

Keep going.

Keep gathering the data.

Keep asking the questions.

Keep trusting that your instincts matter—especially when paired with the right information and support.

You don’t need a perfect plan. You need the right plan for your child and your family’s healing journey.

If this week taught me anything, it’s this: feeling late doesn’t mean you’re wrong. And being close doesn’t always look the way you expect.

I see you.

I know how heavy this can feel.

And I want you to know—you’ve got this.

And sometimes, the breakthrough is closer than you think.