Mine happened at the Jubilee House.
I had the rare honor of accompanying my aunt to meet my uncle, the former President of the Republic, Nana Akufo-Addo. Sitting before him in that private meeting, I was not overwhelmed by power, I was overwhelmed by hope.
Then he looked at me and asked a simple but life-changing question:
“How can I help you?”
That question carried more than authority. It carried opportunity.
I explained the support I needed and presented my proposals and CV because I was fully prepared. Without hesitation, the President called in a deputy presidential staffer, Adumuah Bossman, and gave him direct instructions to assist me in every way necessary.
Right there, in the presence of the President, the staffer responded with dramatic humility, almost as though he wanted to lie prostrate in gratitude for the assignment. It felt sealed. It felt certain. It felt like the beginning of a breakthrough for me and my family.
I walked out of Jubilee House that day believing my breakthrough had arrived.
But life has a way of testing conviction.
After submitting my full proposals and CV to him, I followed up with calls. At first, there were polite reassurances. Then came delays. Then excuses. Eventually, silence. Days turned into months. Months stretched into nearly a year of unanswered calls and vague promises.
A year and a half later, still no feedback.
The same assignment that had been given directly by the President himself had dissolved into avoidance. At some point, I made the painful decision to request my documents back. Surprisingly, even as I write this today, I still have not received them. I even hold screenshots of assurances that my documents would be returned.
Many may ask, “Why didn’t you go back to report it to the President?”
Then access was not as simple as it sounds. Despite every effort, that door did not reopen. And for a long time, it did not make sense to me, how a special directive given in a private meeting by the President could be ignored.
Chale… you know how painful that is.
That experience taught me a hard but powerful truth:
In life, there are destiny helpers… and there can also be destiny crushers.
But here is the deeper revelation, no human being has the final say over your destiny.
What felt like a closed door became a classroom. What felt like betrayal became growth. What felt like delay became spiritual strengthening.
One scripture anchored my heart during that season — 1 Thessalonians 5:18:
“Give thanks in all circumstances.”
Not for all circumstances, but in all circumstances.
Today, if Adumuah Bossman ever reads this, I want him to know: I bear no grudges. I have forgiven him. I leave judgment to God. But I also say this with honesty, sometimes when we delay someone, we are not just delaying a person, we are delaying a family’s hope.
Yet even in that, God remains sovereign.
To you reading this: You can be this close to a breakthrough and still miss it. You can sit in rooms of power and still walk through seasons of disappointment. But never interpret delay as denial. Never interpret silence as the end.
Sometimes God allows a door to close because He is preparing a gate no man can shut.
If one opportunity slipped through your fingers, it only means there is a greater one aligned with your purpose.
Stand tall.
Stay persistent.
Trust God.
Forgive quickly.
Because destiny is not in the hands of men, it is in the hands of God.
Good morning Sir! Plans no nyinaa ashe agu.
God will forever be King!
