“Everything Happens for a Reason” — Or Does it?

We hear it all the time: “Everything happens for a reason.”

People say it when life doesn’t go as planned: a job loss, a breakup, a diagnosis — as if assigning a reason will soften the blow. But we also say it when things go right: a chance encounter leads to love, a missed opportunity reveals a better one, or a seemingly foolish risk suddenly pays off.

“See?” we say, “I knew it. Everything happens for a reason.”

It’s meant to reassure. To bring order to chaos. To offer the comfort of cause and effect — that life is a grand design, and even the messiness is part of a bigger plan.

But I wonder, if everything happens for a reason, then what’s the reason for senseless tragedies? Why do some people experience loss after loss with no reprieve? Why do good, kind people get dealt impossible cards — while others coast untouched? Why are pediatric hospitals full of innocent little patients?

It’s easier to say “everything happens for a reason” when things eventually work out. When the heartbreak leads to happiness. When the delay ends in success. It’s tidy in hindsight. But what about the things that don’t make sense, and never will?

I don’t want to dismiss the phrase entirely because I understand its pull. I’ve reached for it myself. There’s a part of us — maybe the best part of us — that longs to believe life is purposeful, not random. That the hard moments meant something. That the good ones weren’t just luck.

But maybe here’s the shift: Instead of assuming everything happens for a reason, maybe we acknowledge that we can give it one.

That’s the power we hold.

When life falls apart, we can choose to rebuild with more intention. When something beautiful unfolds, we can choose to honor what it took to get there. We can assign meaning not because it was pre-written, but because we decide to grow from it, celebrate it, or simply let it move us.

That meaning? It doesn’t come from fate. It comes from reflection. From agency. From our willingness to sit with the questions, to stay present in the joy, and to carry the wisdom forward.

So no, I don’t believe everything happens for a reason — not in the predestined sense. But I do believe we can find reason in what happens, both in the beauty and in the heartbreak.

Because life isn’t just something that happens to us. It’s something we co-create — with our choices, our perspective, and our meaning-making.

And maybe that’s the real gift.

Not that everything unfolds according to some divine script.But that we can shape the narrative in a way that honors both the pain and the purpose. That we can take what happens and turn it into something more.

Not just a reason. But our reason.