Keep Going: Everything Will Come to You at the Perfect Time

The wind was sharp that morning, a crisp reminder that winter was finally giving way to spring. Ava pulled her scarf a little tighter and crossed the street, her hands buried deep in her coat pockets. She had walked this same route to the small café every morning for the past six months, each step a quiet act of resistance against the urge to give up.

She had moved to the city with big dreams—a graphic design degree, a solid portfolio, and enough ambition to fill a skyscraper. But like so many others, reality arrived without a warning. The jobs didn’t come, the rent didn’t lower, and the loneliness crept in faster than she expected.

At the café, she ordered her usual: one black coffee, one moment of peace. She took her seat by the window, laptop open, eyes scanning yet another list of design internships and freelance gigs. Rejections had become a daily routine. She saved them in a folder labeled “Not Yet” instead of “No”—a small act of hope, or maybe denial.

She often wondered what kept her going. It wasn’t money. It wasn’t the occasional encouragement from her parents who always ended phone calls with “Something will work out soon.” It wasn’t even her love for design, which lately felt more like a burden than a passion.

What kept her going was a single sentence, spoken to her by her grandmother just before she passed away:

"You don’t have to rush. Everything will come to you at the perfect time—just keep going."

At the time, Ava didn’t understand it. She had always been in a hurry—racing deadlines, chasing dreams, checking off life goals like a to-do list. But now, sitting in that café for the 137th time, she finally began to feel the weight of those words.

She watched the world go by outside the window—people hurrying with briefcases, mothers pushing strollers, a young man with a guitar slung across his back. Everyone was going somewhere. Everyone had a path, even if it wasn’t clear.

Just as she was about to shut her laptop and call it another pointless morning, an email notification popped up.

Subject: “We love your work.”

Ava’s heart jumped. She clicked the email.

“Hi Ava,

We came across your portfolio through a community design contest you entered last month. We were deeply moved by your minimalist style and bold emotional choices. We’d like to invite you to join our creative team on a short-term project for an upcoming social campaign. If things go well, we’d love to discuss a longer-term role. Let us know if you’re available for a call this week.”

She read it again. And then once more, just to make sure it wasn’t another rejection masked in polite words.

She blinked. For the first time in months, the tears weren’t from frustration. They were from relief.

The funny thing was—she’d almost skipped that design contest. She remembered thinking, “What’s the point?” But she submitted her piece anyway. Not because she thought she would win. But because something in her whispered, Just keep going.

And now, it mattered.

The call happened two days later. The short-term project turned into a 6-month contract. Then a year. Then a full-time position on a team that didn’t just value her work—they understood it. They gave her the freedom to design with heart. They reminded her of why she fell in love with art in the first place.

Three years later, Ava stood on a stage at a design conference, sharing her journey with a room full of students and creatives. She didn’t show them just her polished projects. She showed them her rejection folder. She told them about the mornings when she didn’t believe in herself. About the jobs she didn’t get. About the days when the only thing that moved her forward was her grandmother’s voice in her head.

"You don’t have to rush. Everything will come to you at the perfect time—just keep going."

She ended her talk with the same words she told herself during the hardest days:

“You don’t have to be there yet. You just have to keep walking.”

After the applause faded and the crowd began to leave, a young girl approached her, eyes wide and hopeful.

“Do you ever still get scared?” the girl asked.

Ava smiled. “All the time,” she said. “But fear’s never the reason to stop. It’s just the reason to keep going a little slower. That’s enough.”

And sometimes, enough is all it takes to reach everything you were waiting for—at exactly the perfect time.