We hear a lot about streaks of adversities that most of us go through at least once in our lifetime. Some people say that bad things “come in threes” and there’s also “Murphy’s Law” reminding us that “anything that can go wrong will go wrong.” But we also hear stories about beautiful coincidences and lucky breaks that can take us by surprise. Better yet, I love to hear stories about a “bad thing” becoming a blessing in disguise. I would think that most of us can see some of these events taking place in our lives.
When I think about how the story of my life has unfolded, I can’t help but see the series of little miracles that took place to put me here. I was born and raised in another country, and since I was little, I had the strange feeling that I could be happier somewhere else. My family has a history of relatives emigrating to other countries and I always dreamed of living abroad and experiencing life in a different place, from a different perspective. But taking this path is not very easy and requires a lot of things to go right.
Since I can remember, my dad and I had a plan for me to attend graduate school in the US or Europe after I completed my university studies in Venezuela, my birth country. This project required a lot of preparation, paperwork, government authorizations, and financial resources. I had spent several months in Michigan taking ESL courses and completing challenging standardized tests to prove that I was grad school material in the States, and that I could speak English at an academic level. That was par for the course then, over two decades ago and it still is now. At that time, most college brochures, aptitude tests, and admissions processes involved at least some form of physical paperwork rather than the fully online methods of today. I had to mail packets with my essays, letters of recommendation, application forms, and school transcripts via courier from South America to American universities. Some of them made it in time, while others missed the deadline; yes, even my letter of acceptance to the PhD program that never came to be. I remember once rushing through my hometown to gather a signed letter of recommendation so that I could mail my application packet and cutting it too close because the postal service in my country was less than stellar. In that final rush, my car died when I was en route to deliver the goods, and my brother had to drive across town to come and rescue me so that I could meet the deadline.
The obstacles were many and while my will to overcome them was strong, my self-belief was weak. My dad had urged me to apply to an academic program that selected students across my native country and provided them with financial support so that they could study abroad. I was reluctant given my discomfort with aptitude testing as I thought that I could not swing that challenge, for whatever reason. I went ahead and participated anyway just to please and appease Dad, even though I fully expected to do poorly. Once I finished the test I told myself: “no way I’m getting this.” Ah! Behold the power of self-talk. The program instructions mentioned that the results would be published in the national newspaper a few months later and mentioned a specific date for students to check. I made note of it but did not give it any importance, quickly redirecting my attention to the job I had then and the graduate school applications.
At that time, Dad used to work over an hour away from our hometown every Saturday, in addition to his regular weekday job. He would drive very early in the morning and come back mid-afternoon, always bringing back the local and national newspapers, some confections from the small town he visited, and the big relief of being done with another exhausting week of work. The specific Saturday when the program announcement was published, Dad came home without the newspaper. I didn’t think much of it because I was not expecting to be on the list of those selected, so I said nothing when he came home empty-handed. The next day we went out to the grocery store like we did every Sunday. On the way to the store, Dad made a quick stop at the newspaper stand, and the attendant came promptly with the Sunday paper as was customary. When the man approached, I casually asked him if by chance he still had the prior day’s edition. Dad looked at me a bit puzzled, as he had no idea what was going through my mind. I did not mention anything about the program and he didn’t ask. The attendant handed me the newspaper and I acted as if it was not important at all. Dad drove away as I opened the newspaper, quickly scanning the list of ID numbers, arranged in ascending order. I saw that my number was not there and confirmed my belief: “no way I was going to get this; that stuff doesn’t happen to me.” Except that when I happened to glance at the next page just by chance as I motioned to fold the paper, I saw a header that said “Graduate Programs.” I quickly realized that I had been looking at the wrong list, the one for undergraduates. As my eyes quickly traveled down the right list, my number was there! I immediately started crying and shouting: “I got in, I got in!!!” Dad was utterly confused, not knowing what was happening at all. I explained to him that I was looking at the published list of names for the program he had me apply for. He was elated, proud, and relieved. But he also told me: “what if the man had not had the day-old paper? You would have never known!” He believed in me more than I ever did, and I’ll never forget that.
Dad was absolutely right. My lack of self-belief almost let me close the door to an opportunity that truly changed my life. I almost walked away from my date with destiny because I didn’t feel deserving or think that something that big could be for me. It was a huge lesson in humility. Yes, humility to put in the work and accept that I can achieve my dream in the process. Who are we to say that good things are not for us?
But the story doesn’t end there. Months passed and I still had to complete some paperwork in my country’s capital, where the government agency that ran the program I was selected to had their offices. Once again, I was against a tight deadline and had to travel to submit some additional requirements. Dad and I got up very early in the morning to catch an hour-long flight, attend a tightly scheduled appointment and return home that evening. As I was getting dressed and putting my pants on, I felt searing pain on my ankle. I immediately knew that I had been stung by a scorpion, a very common visitor in the state I lived in. The critter had hid in my clothes, which I had left sitting out in my room so that I could get ready quickly in the early morning. I immediately cried out and Dad came ready to help, as he always did when I needed him. I yelled with tears streaming down my face: “a scorpion stung me, I’m going to miss my flight!” Thinking that I’d need to go to the urgent clinic, I saw my dream slipping away and told Dad: “I don’t care if I die on that plane, but I’m going!” Yes, I know – cue the drama, but that’s how I felt: painfully scared, not about the venom one sees in the movies hurting the stung victims, but about missing my last chance in a very long application and admissions process. If I was hesitant to claim my destiny during the newspaper episode, I was now certain that this was for me and I would not let a tiny critter get in the way. My aunt, who happened to be visiting, patched me up with some antibiotic cream and Dad and I headed to the airport. We made the appointment, just in time.
These are some of the close calls that I had along my big life adventure of moving to the US to pursue my dream. When I look at my daughter these days I can’t help but think how that thread of small misfortunes and big miracles gave way to a beautiful life here with her. I often tell her how if we had not persevered, then “poof!” she would not be here. And then I laugh and think about Dad and all the wonderful people who were at the right place and the right time for this little life miracle to happen. Equally important, I often reflect on the impact that self-talk and self-belief have in our lives. If we don’t believe in ourselves and give ourselves the room to go after what we want, our number may not get called. In this case, all the car trouble, snail mail, deceiving scorpions, or any other challenges I faced later on were no match for my strong desire to go after my dreams. But I almost missed the boat one time by listening to that nagging voice of self-doubt in the back of my head. We need to believe that we can achieve and then the miracle will happen, not because destiny will come knocking at our door, but because we went for it. Believe, please, and go for it!
