On November 20, 2016, at 7:30 pm, not far from the Trenton, Ontario exit, our world shook.

A Journey Back to Queen’s

We were eastbound on Highway 401, one of the busiest highways in Ontario, heading back to Queen’s University. My husband, son, and I had left our Brampton home just after 6 pm to return our son to school, where he was working towards his Certificate in Education.

My son, seated in the front, asked for a head massage. As I stretched forward from the backseat and began gently pressing his scalp, we fell into a familiar rhythm of conversation. We talked about his dreams for the future—about how he wanted to revolutionize education by championing experiential learning and outdoor programs in high schools.

Dreams and Ambitions

Then he turned the conversation toward me. "Mom, where do you see yourself in five years?"

I smiled, waiting for him to tease me about my latest hobby—knitting colorful scarves and leg warmers. But instead, he looked at me earnestly, as if he wanted something more. So, I followed his lead, sharing my hopes for change in the education system, too. He listened intently, then said, "Maybe one day, I'll be the head teacher, and you could be the principal."

I laughed at the thought, but deep down, I recognized something profound. His vision of change and leadership mirrored my own silent aspirations. As professionals and leaders, we often get caught up in the day-to-day execution of tasks, but moments like this remind us to realign our dreams with the greater impact we want to have. It’s not just about doing the work—it’s about leaving a legacy, reshaping the systems we’re part of, and striving for something bigger than ourselves. My son’s ambition, like the drive of any leader, wasn’t just a fleeting desire. It was a purposeful calling to reshape the future.

A Shift in the Weather

We stopped for gas after about 90 minutes on the road, and my son took the wheel. The first snow of the season had begun to dust the highway—a reminder that winter was truly here. The air felt different. Crisp. Quiet. But also dangerous.

The snowflakes thickened; the road slickened. Suddenly, I felt it: the car swerved. We were traveling at 95 km/h, but something was pulling us toward an 18-wheeler. My heart clenched. I knew instinctively we were in danger.

A Brush with Disaster

My son slammed on the brakes, frantically trying to regain control. "What should I do?" he asked in panic. "Slow down, release the brake," my husband said, trying to remain calm. But the car wasn’t listening. It was sliding.

In the space of a breath, we veered sharply, skidding across the road at a terrifying 90-degree angle. The concrete divider loomed large and solid, but by some miracle, we struck it squarely and stopped.

The world paused. And in that silence, it was clear to me that moments like these are inevitable in life and in our careers. In leadership, we face “near misses” where things don’t go as planned, where challenges seem insurmountable. Yet, those moments are not meant to break us—they are reminders of our resilience. They offer us clarity, perspective, and sometimes a renewed sense of purpose. For many professionals, setbacks or close calls in business serve as the very moments that solidify their commitment to their vision.

The car sat still, mere feet from the edge of the highway. Everything was silent except for the pounding of our hearts. We exchanged wide-eyed glances, taking stock: we were safe. Breathing. Seatbelts fastened. No injuries. Just shock and awe at how close we had come to tragedy.

A Moment of Gratitude

I whispered a prayer of thanksgiving, overwhelmed by the grace that had kept us intact.

As my husband carefully maneuvered a U-turn in the middle of oncoming traffic, I realized how fragile everything was. Three hours later, we arrived safely at my son’s place. Before we left, I hugged him tightly and whispered, “I love you,” holding on for an extra moment.

Reflections on Life and Dreams

On the five-hour drive home, I couldn’t stop thinking about what had happened. My son’s dream of changing the education system, my role in it—all of it felt precarious. Our dreams, our lives, could have been shattered in an instant.

The question that lingered with me wasn’t just about irony or destiny. It was about resilience. As leaders, we all face moments that challenge our dreams—whether it’s a layoff, career pivot, a missed opportunity, or personal trials. But these challenges don’t necessarily signal the end of the road. Instead, they often validate our path, pushing us to persevere with more intention. Our aspirations are fragile, but they are also flexible. And in their flexibility lies their strength.

Professionally, these "shakes" remind us that we must be adaptable, focused, yet agile, and willing to take calculated risks, knowing full well that the road is never perfectly smooth. So, when the world shakes us, perhaps it’s just preparing us for when we are ready to shake the world ourselves.

Before we shake the world, sometimes the world shakes us.

The question is: do we see it as an irony?

Or is it an endorsement of something greater?