“Pay attention to the whispers before they become screams.” — Oprah Winfrey
Gratitude for life’s warnings doesn’t usually show up with flashing lights and sirens. Most of the time, it arrives as a quiet nudge, a strange sound, or a gut feeling that says, “Something’s off.” The older I get, the more grateful I am for those whispers.
In December 2008, I got a black 2009 Dodge Journey as my company car for my medical sales job. She was my workhorse. We logged thousands of miles across Ohio. We shared podcasts and playlists. We rolled through every kind of weather the Midwest could throw at us.
Then, on October 12, 2010, everything changed. My job disappeared on a conference call; twelve of us let go at once. Just like that.
The one thing I didn’t lose that day was the Journey. She became mine for real.
When I started Grategy, she came with me. She was there for the early morning drives to speaking gigs that barely covered gas money. She was there for the wins, the “What am I doing?” moments, and everything in between. I celebrated her 100,000-mile mark. Then 200,000. I hadn’t had a car payment since 2016. She was still running strong.
Or so I thought.
A Whisper in the Driveway
Last June, my mom was visiting. We were headed downtown for lunch. I backed out of the driveway, and the car made a noise I didn’t recognize. Not loud. Not dramatic. Just… wrong.
My gut said, “We’re not going anywhere.”
That was my first moment of gratitude for life’s warnings, even though I didn’t have words for it yet. I pulled back into the driveway, told my mom we were changing plans, and called my mechanic.
At the shop, he took a look and then came back with a face I’ve seen before, but never enjoy. The subframe was cracking in two. If we’d taken the freeway that day, there’s a good chance we wouldn’t have made it downtown for lunch. Not safely, anyway.
One whisper. One weird sound. One choice to pay attention.
When the Journey Really Ends
When I finally sold her to Peddle.com, my mechanic drove her onto the truck. As he did, the entire front end shifted forward. The driver looked stunned.
“She drove that here?” he asked.
Yep. I did.
She’d gone as far as she safely could. It was time.
Today, as I was finishing the details for my program at the Automotive Recyclers Association, I realized something important: my Journey didn’t really “end” there.
She was probably sold at auction, taken apart with care, and given new life in other vehicles. Everything that still worked – everything but the one fatal flaw – became useful again.
Just like I’m an organ donor, my car became a donor too. Her parts are out there somewhere, helping other cars get a few more miles. Helping someone else get to work. Helping a family make it home.
That’s legacy. That’s gratitude. Not just what we keep, but what we leave behind that still helps someone else move forward.
Why I’m Grateful for Life’s Warnings
This experience reminded me how often life gives us early warnings:
- A relationship that feels heavier than it should
- A job that drains instead of energizes
- A body sending signals we keep pushing through
- A dream that keeps nudging us, even when we ignore it
Sometimes the “noise” we hear isn’t an inconvenience. It’s information.
Gratitude for life’s warnings means we stop treating those whispers like annoyances and start seeing them as protection, guidance, or redirection.
My Dodge Journey warned me.
My gut listened.
And because of that, my mom and I were never in danger on that freeway.
That’s something I will never take for granted.
A Question for You
Where in your life are you hearing a whisper right now?
A small concern?
A quiet nudge?
A feeling that something needs attention?
You don’t have to panic. You don’t have to wait for the scream. You can listen now, while it’s still a whisper—and be grateful you had the chance.
What are you grateful for this week?
One of the things I am grateful for is my podcast, The Manufacturers’ Network, where I’ve interviewed more than 200 leaders. You can check it out here.
