When the Storm Hits: Lessons From a Dead Battery in Montréal

At the top of Mount Royal, smiling wide — not just because of the view, but because I made it through the climb. Sometimes life’s detours feel like setbacks, but they remind us we’re stronger than we think. 💜

I almost didn’t go.

Last Wednesday, as I packed my bag and slid into the driver’s seat of my Chevy Equinox, I felt that familiar cocktail of excitement, anxiety, and fear. A solo trip. No kids. No backup. Just me. Part of me wanted to turn back — let the $500 hotel booking go and save myself the risk.

But another part of me whispered: go anyway.

And I’m glad I listened. Because before everything unraveled with my car, those three days in Montréal were full of discovery. I proved to myself that I can enjoy life on my own. That I don’t need to wait on anyone’s availability or permission to live fully.

If I had kept waiting for friends, family, or the “right” time, I would’ve missed it all: the basilica glowing with stained glass, the taste of that perfect scone sandwich, the mountaintop view of the skyline, the laughter echoing through Old Port at sunset. Those moments were mine, and they were worth it.

But then the storm hit.

The Breakdown

Saturday morning, I checked out of my hotel ready to head home. I prayed, packed, and felt light. But when I turned the key… nothing. A hollow clicking, the dash blinking “Battery Low.”

At first, my mind went into guilt mode: This is punishment. Punishment for spending money I should’ve saved. Punishment for traveling alone. Punishment for thinking I could do this by myself.

It’s amazing how fast we blame ourselves when life throws us curveballs.

I called my cousin, and she gently reminded me: “This would’ve happened here or at home. Thank God it didn’t happen at a sketchy gas station at night. Thank God you were safe.”

And she was right. It didn’t erase the frustration, but it reframed it. Gratitude has a way of softening fear.

The Attempts

The hotel staff tried to jump-start my car. Nothing.

A mobile mechanic came, swapped in a new battery for nearly $400. Still nothing.

Late that night, close to midnight, another mechanic came. He confirmed the transmission was fine, but the shifter module had failed — an electronic problem too complex for a parking garage. After hours of trying, he admitted defeat.

He left. I was out another $150. My car sat lifeless. And I had to re-check into the hotel — another $400 for one night, almost the same cost as my three-night stay combined.

By this point, I was in deep: $1,500 gone, car still broken, no resolution in sight.

The Pivot

By Sunday morning, I realized I had a choice. Sit in frustration, or find a way forward.

I went to Enterprise, rented a car, emptied my Equinox into it, and left my keys with the hotel front desk so roadside assistance could tow it to the Chevy dealership. The dealership won’t even look at it until Tuesday.

By late afternoon, I was finally on the road again. Not in my own car, but in a rental. Not as carefree as I imagined, but safe.

And that’s what mattered most.

The Lessons

1. Don’t Wait on Anyone

I almost skipped this trip because no one could come with me. I thought about California, about other destinations, but people were busy, unavailable, or simply uninterested. If I had waited, I’d still be waiting.

Yes, I ended up with car trouble. Yes, it cost more than I imagined. But I also got three days of joy, quiet, and independence I wouldn’t trade for anything.

Sometimes the scariest part of going solo isn’t being alone — it’s deciding to go in the first place.

2. Independence Is Heavy and Holy

When the car broke down, I was alone. My closest family was five and a half hours away. I wanted moral support so badly. I even caught myself thinking: this is where having a man would be nice. Someone to shoulder the stress. Someone to say, “I’ve got this.”

And you know what? That would’ve been nice. But it also reminded me of something deeper: I can do this.

Would it be easier with someone by my side? Yes. But I’m not powerless without one. Sometimes the gift of being alone is realizing your own strength.

3. Gratitude Is a Discipline

I had to fight my own brain all weekend. I kept circling back to punishment, shame, guilt.

But then I remembered the mercies:

• My car didn’t die on the road at night.

• It didn’t happen with my kids in the car.

• I was in a safe place, with people around me who wanted to help.

• I had the resources — barely, painfully, but still — to cover the cost.

Gratitude didn’t erase the stress. But it kept me from drowning in it.

4. Faith Gets Tested in the Storm

This weekend, I thought about God more than I have in months. I prayed, I cried, I asked, why me? Why now, when I’m already stretched thin as a single mom, paying for everything alone?

But I also felt His presence. In the people who called me non-stop. In the family who offered financial help. In the strangers who showed up with jumper cables and wrenches.

And in the truth I’ve seen play out again and again: God has never given me more than I can handle, not alone, but with Him and the people He’s placed in my life.

What I Want You to Know

Storms will come. Car batteries will die. Plans will shatter. Life will test your faith, your patience, your bank account, and your sanity.

But storms also pass. What stays are the lessons: that you are capable, that gratitude shifts everything, that independence is heavy but holy, and that God is faithful through it all.

If you’re in the middle of your own storm, I want you to know: you’re not being punished.

You’re being shaped. And one day, like me, you’ll look back and see not just the breakdowns, but the mercies that carried you through.

And maybe, just maybe, you’ll stand in your driveway — tired, lighter in your wallet, but safe — and remember: storms don’t last. But the strength you find in them does.

💜 — Rochelly