Everything Happens for a Reason (Even When It Feels Like a Detour)

I was supposed to be in Louisiana, boots on the ground, ready to start a new job. I had mapped it all out, packed, booked, planned. But the universe had other ideas. My flight got delayed. Then delayed again. Then canceled.

Now, normally, this would’ve set me off. I’ve got responsibilities. I’ve got momentum I’m trying to build. I’ve got a vision that doesn’t wait around for airport chaos or airline apologies.

But this time… I took a breath.

Because instead of being stuck in Phoenix, Arizona, I was placed there—right in the middle of something I didn’t even realize I needed. I ended up spending time with my biological mother, Linda. Not a quick hello or a rushed dinner, but real time. Connection time. Soul time.

And then, as if on cue, there was a family pool party. One of those rare gatherings where people you’ve never met somehow feel like home. I got to meet family I’d never seen before. Laugh. Float. Be present. And let’s be honest, as men doing this inner work, how often do we let ourselves just be?

This wasn’t just a random travel hiccup. This was divine timing.

That one unplanned day off work turned into one of those priceless moments you tuck into your heart and carry with you forever. I could’ve been angry. I could’ve forced things. But instead, I leaned into it—and it reminded me of a deeper truth:

Everything happens for a reason.

Not in the cliche way. Not in the “let’s put a bow on this mess” kind of way. But in the real way—the kind of way that David Deida talks about in The Way of the Superior Man. He writes about how a man must stop waiting for things to line up perfectly and instead learn to flow with life, moment by moment. The challenges are the path. That canceled flight? That was the path. That reunion? That was the real work.

In King, Warrior, Magician, Lover, Moore and Gillette speak to the archetype of the King—the part of us that can step back, see the bigger picture, and bring blessing. That day, I wasn’t pushing or striving. I was receiving. I was in my King.

The Warrior in me was still ready. The Magician in me was watching. The Lover in me? He was floating in a pool with a full heart, surrounded by family.

And then there’s Iron John by Robert Bly—the book that reminds us that every man has a Wild Man inside, banging on the bars of a cage society helped build. That Wild Man doesn’t care about flight delays. He’s watching for the sacred in the ordinary. For the ritual hiding in the reroute. For the meaning buried in the mess.

I could’ve missed it. But I didn’t.

I’ve lived long enough to know that the things that seem like setbacks are often initiations. Detours are invitations. What feels like failure is sometimes just preparation.

And this is what we teach at Fathership.

That being a man—being a whole man—isn’t about control. It’s about surrendering to the deeper rhythm. About learning to listen to life and not just bark orders at it. It’s about being strong and soft, strategic and surrendered, powerful and present.

If you’re in the middle of your own “Phoenix moment,” take a breath. Maybe the plan breaking down is the best thing that could’ve happened to you. Maybe the thing you think you’re missing is just making room for something you’ve needed your whole life.

I didn’t plan to float in a pool that day, surrounded by people with my blood in their veins. But I did. And I’m better for it.

That’s the work. That’s the gift. And that’s why we keep showing up.

You are not broken. You are being guided. Everything happens for a reason—even if that reason doesn’t show up with a signpost. Sometimes it shows up in silence. Or in stillness. Or in family you didn’t know you had.

Keep your heart open.

And if you need a brother to walk with you while you're figuring it out, we’re here.

—Todd Thomas Founder, Fathership Program Inc.