When the Vision Changes: Lessons from a Family Trip (and a Career)

A recent family trip reminded me that even the best-laid plans—and the clearest visions—don’t always go the way we expect. And sometimes, that’s exactly what we need.

Every year, my daughters, my mom’s best friend (who has long since become an honorary grandmother in our family), and I take an annual amusement park trip. Over the years, we’ve alternated between some of the major theme parks in Florida, collecting memories and laughter along the way.

This year started like the others—with a plan. I’m a planner by nature, so we had everything organized: park tickets, meal reservations, which attractions to hit, and even backup options for the afternoon storms Florida is famous for.

But this year’s trip took on a life of its own.

We began as a group of four. Then three more joined. Then, later in the summer, four additional people were added. A week before the trip, one more decided to come along, bringing us to a grand total of twelve.

Twelve people. Twelve sets of preferences, paces, and priorities.

Needless to say, the carefully crafted itinerary didn’t survive the first day.

There were missed rides, last-minute dining changes, child meltdowns, and weather delays that complicated our trip home. At moments, it was chaotic.

But here’s the thing—it was also wonderful.

It wasn’t the trip I planned, but it was the trip we needed.

We laughed harder, stayed up later, and connected more deeply than I could have scripted. Letting go of “the plan” opened up room for spontaneity and joy. It reminded me that sometimes, the vision we start with isn’t the one that will serve us best in the end.

Walking ahead of the children on our trip

And that lesson doesn’t just apply to family vacations—it applies to our careers, too.

When I first imagined my professional path, I had a clear picture of what it would look like. My vision didn’t include becoming a program director, or working in a subspecialty area, or joining a large institution outside of government service. In fact, many of the steps along the way weren’t part of any original plan.

But if I had rigidly clung to that old vision, I would’ve missed out on some of the most meaningful parts of my work and life.

Over time, I’ve learned that career “detours” aren’t necessarily wrong turns—they’re often recalibrations. The moments that didn’t fit the plan have taught me just as much as the ones that did.

I’ve learned about leadership styles that didn’t align with my values—and others I didn’t think I’d enjoy that now bring me real fulfillment. I’ve discovered that staying true to my strengths, passions, and authenticity matters more than holding a specific title or checking every box of a predetermined path.

Our professional and personal growth depend on flexibility—not just resilience in the face of change, but openness to what change can make possible.

If we’re honest, medicine doesn’t always leave a lot of room for that kind of flexibility. We’re taught to plan, to prepare, to predict. But in the process, we can become so attached to a single vision that we miss the opportunity to see what else could emerge if we just allowed things to evolve.

That trip—with its crowded dinners, unpredictable weather, and overflowing joy—was a timely reminder that some of the best outcomes come from what wasn’t planned.

So, if your career—or your life—doesn’t look like the vision you had a few years ago, maybe that’s not a sign that you’ve strayed from the path. Maybe it’s a sign that you’re growing in ways your old vision couldn’t yet imagine.

Because sometimes, letting go of what should have been creates space for something even better to unfold.