I don't think a show's ever changed networks in the middle of the

“I don’t think a show’s ever changed networks in the middle of the season before, but it was cool because they gave us those extra couple years of life that was necessary to get us to syndication.” Thus spoke Donal Logue, an actor whose words, though born of television and circumstance, carry the quiet resonance of perseverance and renewal. Beneath the surface of show business, he speaks to a truth universal to all human endeavor: that sometimes, the hand of fate shifts the path before us—not to end our story, but to extend its life, to give it time to reach its true purpose. In this reflection, Logue transforms the tale of a TV show into a parable about endurance, chance, and the grace of second beginnings.

The origin of this quote lies in the uncertain life of a television series—“Grounded for Life”, the comedy in which Logue starred. Midway through its run, the show faced cancellation, a quiet death that comes not from failure of talent but from the indifferent winds of the industry. Yet in a rare twist of fortune, another network took it in, granting it continuation and renewal. In this act, Logue saw not just survival, but a gift: the extra years of life that allowed the work to achieve syndication—the moment when a show’s legacy endures beyond its original broadcast. Thus, the actor’s gratitude became wisdom. What began as a disruption turned into a resurrection, a reminder that endings are often disguises worn by beginnings.

To say that it was “cool” is to speak humbly of what was, in truth, profound. For how often do we, too, find ourselves in the middle of life’s network change—when all seems uncertain, when the ground beneath us shifts, when what we thought was the end turns out to be a passage? Logue’s experience becomes a mirror of human resilience: the recognition that continuation, even when born of upheaval, can be sacred. It is not the uninterrupted path that defines greatness, but the courage to walk again after the course is altered.

History bears witness to countless such turns of fate. Consider the story of Vincent van Gogh, who during his brief, troubled life believed his art doomed to obscurity. No galleries clamored for his work; no buyers came. Yet after his death, his paintings found their way into the hands of those who saw their brilliance. They changed “networks,” so to speak—from rejection to reverence—and found eternal life through syndication in the hearts of generations. The painter never saw his redemption, yet his art was granted those “extra years” that carried his name into immortality. So it is with all things crafted from sincerity: though they falter, though they wander, they find new homes when faith remains steadfast.

What Donal Logue recognized, whether knowingly or not, is the hidden law of endurance: that the universe sometimes delays fruition not to deny it, but to refine it. When something is worth saving—whether a show, a dream, or a life—it will find another platform, another chance to speak. The wise do not despair when their path is rerouted; they understand that continuity is not control. We are not always meant to guide the river; sometimes, we must trust its current to carry us to a greater sea.

In Logue’s words, there also rests an implicit gratitude. He does not boast of success; he gives thanks for time—those “extra couple years of life.” In a world obsessed with speed and instant recognition, this humility reminds us of the virtue of patience. True success, like syndication, comes not from the flash of a moment but from the longevity of effort. It is the quiet persistence to keep showing up, to keep creating, even when the audience dwindles, even when the lights dim. For every season continued, every project extended, is a testament to the unyielding spirit that refuses to surrender before its story is complete.

So, my listener, take this as your lesson: when life changes networks—when your plans are interrupted, your path redirected—see not failure, but extension. The universe may be moving you from one stage to another, granting you the extra years you need to reach the fulfillment of your purpose. Continue your craft. Cherish every reprieve. Be thankful for each chance to begin anew.

For in the end, the measure of a life, like that of a show, is not in its uninterrupted success, but in its endurance—in its ability to adapt, to persist, and to reach others long after its first season has passed. As Donal Logue reminds us, the miracle lies not in the fame, but in the renewal—in the grace of being given just a little more time to bring our story to completion, and perhaps, to touch eternity.