It was just a month ago, I stood at the memorial of the Twin Towers in New York. People streamed in quietly, many carrying flowers, placing them tenderly over the engraved names of loved ones who had perished in that terrible massacre. Some knelt, some wept, some whispered prayers. And as I watched, I realized there were other names missing—those who had been meant to be there that morning, but weren’t. Why? Because life delayed them.
The stories are both ordinary and extraordinary. A company director was late because it was his son’s first day of kindergarten. A woman overslept because her alarm didn’t ring. One man got stuck on a road where an accident had slowed traffic. Another missed his bus. Someone spilled food on his shirt and had to change. A car wouldn’t start. A phone rang, and someone turned back to answer it. A taxi didn’t arrive. A baby was born. And one man, who had bought a new pair of shoes, stopped at a pharmacy for a bandaid after they bit into his skin—he is alive today because of that small detour.
And I thought: isn’t life full of such “traffic jams”?
The red lights that seem to gang up against us, the missing keys that play hide and seek every morning, the school-going kids who drag their feet as if they were entering prison instead of class. We grumble, fume, honk, curse. But maybe, just maybe, that is exactly where we’re supposed to be at that moment.
What if that one-minute delay saves you from a crash up ahead? What if that quarrel with the alarm clock keeps you safe from something waiting at the corner? What if missing that elevator means meeting someone else—someone you were meant to meet?
I confess, I’m a terrible one in traffic jams. I’ll drum my fingers behind my driver and glance at the car ahead as though my stare could push it forward. But after that visit to the memorial, my perspective changed. I whisper to myself: “This is the exact place I need to be at this very moment.”
It’s not easy. Faith never is. It’s easier to complain than to trust. But if a man survived the worst terrorist attack in modern history because his new shoes needed a bandaid, maybe I can survive a few minutes behind a lumbering truck.
So next time your morning seems crazy—when the children won’t get dressed, when your keys play hide-and-seek, when every single signal turns red—don’t lose your cool.
Because sometimes, the reason for your traffic jam isn’t the stubborn cow sitting on the highway, or the traffic cop on a tea break.
Sometimes, the reason is divine protection, wrapped in delay.
So, take a breath, smile, and remember—your “traffic jam” could be God’s way of keeping you alive…!