Always on Time

                                          

This past Saturday, my daughter had her prom. Man… I’ve never seen her like that before. She was glowing—beautiful, confident, optimistic. I ain’t gonna lie, it caught me off guard. She wasn’t my little girl anymore, she was becoming this full, radiant young woman. And what started off as a disaster of a day turned into one of the biggest life lessons I’ve had in a minute.

Me and wifey had been grinding for weeks to make sure everything was perfect for her. You know how it is—we wanted the dress right, the pics right, the ride right, the whole experience to be memorable. That morning, we were handling last-minute stuff at the house, making sure everything was smooth. Once that was good, wifey dropped me off to pick up the Jeep—yes, the Jeep she specifically requested for the big night.

Everything was moving according to plan… until it wasn’t.

I walk into the rental spot and boom—there’s a sea of people, at least a hundred deep, waiting. Confused, I ask this lady what’s going on, and she hits me with the gut punch: “They outta vehicles… in the entire airport.” Whole rental fleet—gone.

I stood there like… huh?

I couldn’t even process it. My mind was racing. I kept thinking, This can’t be happening. Not today. I spun around to head out, heart pounding, when I remembered wifey asking, “Should I wait?” And me, in my overly confident dad mode, was like, “Nah, I got it.”

So now, I’m stuck. No ride. Look down, no phone—it’s dead. I’m walking aimlessly through the airport, pissed off, trying to figure out what to do. I end up trekking a few miles to a Walgreens, hit the ATM, and wait another 30 minutes just to catch a bus back home. Took me a whole hour.

I get back home and explain everything to my wife. That’s when we go into hustle mode. First thought—order her a high-end Uber. Second—maybe her aunt could drop her off in her big black SUV to make that grand entrance.

Then my wife, still scrambling, turns to our daughter and asks, “What do you want to do?”

Without skipping a beat she said, “I want Dad to take me.”

Me?

In my dinged up, dirty work truck? I was shook. I couldn’t believe it. But she was dead serious—and I was down like a car on 4 flats!

Now, let me paint the scene: traffic was bananas because Beyoncé had a concert a few blocks from her prom. So time was tight. But she took her pics, gave out hugs, and we hit the road.

As we drove, I kept sneaking little glances at her—still in awe. She was so poised. She’d tweak her hair, check her phone, and smile to herself. I was in full mission mode, taking every back street I knew to avoid the madness. And somehow, we made it—30 minutes early.

Then she hit me with:

“I’m hungry.”

Say less.

I double-parked, ran into Whole Foods like a contestant on Supermarket Sweep. Came back with some chips, mints, bottled water, and a slice of cheese pizza. We split the pizza in the car, and she started checking in with her friends about arrival times.

As I handed her the snacks and started to pull off, she looked over at me and said:

“That’s why I wanted you to bring me. I knew you’d get me here on time. I knew I didn’t have anything to worry about.”

Bruh…

That hit me straight in the chest.

My eyes welled up. I held it together, barely. She took a few bites, sipped her water, FaceTimed her girls, and then calmly told me to pull over. She said bye, smiled, and walked off into her night—confident, calm, ready.

And as I watched her disappear in my rearview, one thought hit me hard:

I don’t trust God like my daughter trusts me.

All this time, we thought she needed the bells and whistles—the luxury ride, the perfect plan. But she didn’t. She just needed me. She trusted I’d get her there, no matter what.

And that made me think…

How many times has God already made provision, but I told Him, “Nah, not like that. Do it bigger, do it shinier, make it look perfect.”

When all He ever needed was my trust.

Long story short?

It ain’t always about how you get there.

It’s about who is taking you.

And trusting that the One driving knows all the back streets.

He’ll double park if He needs to.

And He’ll get you there on time.

Just like I did for my baby girl.