This week, I found myself back at Cranbrook House and Gardens for the 125th anniversary celebration of Detroit Working Writers. Walking through those familiar rooms stirred up memories I hadn’t thought about in years.
Cranbrook holds a special place in my story, though not in the way I originally imagined. Years ago, I trained to become a docent there. I was drawn to the estate’s beauty, the carefully preserved history, the stories embedded in every room. I thought this was where I was meant to be.
But the universe had other plans.
When Things Don’t Click
During the docent training, we were each assigned a room to memorize. Every week, we’d practice presenting as if we were actual docents, working toward that official role. I remember standing in the dining room, trying to absorb every detail, every story, every piece of furniture.
Here’s what I wrote about that experience in Little Baghdad, Chapter 17:
“As I envisioned the meals that took place around the dining table, I heard the docent explain that we were each assigned a script with a room to memorize for the next meeting. Each week, we’d play docent as a means to attaining true docent status. Fear crept in. I don’t retain information very well unless the topic truly matters to me. Otherwise, I tend to freeze. And lo and behold, that was exactly what happened when I stood there in the center of puzzled looks from the rest of the docents-in-training, unable to recall anything about the dining room except that the maid spilt soup on one of the sons and Mrs. Booth’s silverware had ‘Nelly’ etched on the reverse of each of the pieces, the name that her family called her. This reminded me of Nelly Olson in Little House on the Prairie.
That night, walking to my car in the cold quiet winter night, I reflected on the house. … By the time my feet reached my car, I’d made up my mind. I can’t do this.”
I felt embarrassed. Disappointed in myself. I’m usually good at retaining information, at learning new things. Why was this so hard? What was wrong with me?
I never became a docent at Cranbrook.
Then Everything Changed
Not long after that experience, I became the Executive Director of the Chaldean Cultural Center and Museum.
And suddenly, everything that had been difficult at Cranbrook became effortless.
The history of my people, the artifacts, the stories of ancient Mesopotamia, the journey of the Chaldean community. I absorbed it all naturally. I could speak about our culture, our contributions to civilization, our struggles and triumphs without needing to memorize scripts. It just flowed.
This wasn’t about capability or intelligence. It was about calling.
The Spiritual Lesson
When I talk about spirituality, this is what I mean. It’s not always about rituals or meditation, though those have their place. Sometimes spirituality shows up in the simple recognition of where you belong versus where you’re trying to force yourself to fit.
At Cranbrook, I was pushing. At the Chaldean Museum, I was flowing.
That’s the difference between being in alignment and being out of alignment. Your body knows. Your spirit knows. Even when your mind is still trying to convince you that you should make it work.
The struggle I experienced at Cranbrook wasn’t failure. It was guidance. The universe was redirecting me, saying, “Not this path. Keep looking. Your purpose is waiting somewhere else.”
Nothing is Wasted
Looking back now, I see how that experience prepared me in ways I didn’t understand at the time. The docent training taught me about preservation, about honoring history, about the importance of telling stories with care and accuracy.
I used all of that at the Chaldean Museum. I just used it for my own people, my own culture, my own calling.
Nothing is ever wasted. Every detour teaches us something. Every closed door points us toward the one that’s meant to open.
Coming Full Circle
Standing in Cranbrook House this week, years after that difficult realization in the cold parking lot, I felt grateful. Grateful that I listened to that inner voice telling me I didn’t belong there. Grateful that I didn’t force myself to keep going just to prove I could do it.
If I had become a Cranbrook docent, I might never have stepped fully into my role at the Chaldean Cultural Center. I might never have dedicated myself so completely to preserving and sharing the stories of my ancestors.
Sometimes the things that don’t work out are the biggest blessings.
A Message for You
If you’re struggling right now in a place where you thought you belonged, pay attention. Not all struggle is meant to be pushed through. Some struggle is a message.
Ask yourself: Am I struggling because I’m growing, or am I struggling because I’m in the wrong place?
Growth struggle feels hard but purposeful. Misalignment struggle feels hard and hollow.
Trust that inner knowing. Trust that if something isn’t clicking, maybe it’s because something better is waiting. Something that will feel like coming home instead of trying to belong.
Your calling isn’t something you have to force. When you find it, you’ll know. Not because it’s easy, but because even when it’s hard, it feels right.
The universe is always guiding us. Sometimes through open doors. Sometimes through closed ones.
Both are blessings.
The Path of Consciousness 