My Driveway: Where Hope Takes Root
The other day, my friend mentioned he could see me giving speeches someday. His words transported me back to a place that's witnessed all my unspoken stories–my driveway.
My Safe Space
There's something magical about safe spaces. Those spots where we can release our thoughts into the ether, letting them float away or come crashing back with clarity.
For me, that space has always been my driveway – my stage, my confessional, my place of reflection. And now, watching my daughter mimic my contemplative stance with her tiny hands in her pockets, I realize it's become a legacy of hope.
The Accidental Speaker
I've always had this thing about speeches. Since I was a kid, I'd catch myself performing to imaginary crowds. The shower heard my TED talks. The living room witnessed my revolutionary ideas.
But the driveway? That's where the real magic happened.
The other day,
and I were deep in conversation about purpose, about what we're meant to do in this world.That's when he mentioned he could see me giving speeches someday. It hit different. Not because it was a new idea, but because someone else finally saw what I'd been rehearsing for all along.
Life has this funny way of bringing you full circle. I honestly forgot about the driveway until Josh said something. His words lit my brain up (nothing new there to be honest with you–he’s crazy insightful.)
Anyway- I remembered standing in that same driveway during the first snowfall years ago, at my absolute rock bottom, preaching hope to an audience that wasn't there.
I'd lost everything, was drowning in depression, but somehow found myself delivering a sermon to myself about peace to the falling snow.
Then there was that day I moved back in with my parents years later. Same driveway, completely different rock bottom.
Yet there I was again, speaking words of hope into the cold air, trying to convince myself as much as my invisible audience that things would get better.
The Return
Today, I'm back in that driveway.
I'm scared shitless about the future.
My bank account is giving me the side-eye.
But then I look over at my almost-three-year-old daughter, and holy shit – there she is, tiny hands in her pockets, head down, making funny faces and mimicking my every move.
And it hits me: those hope-filled speeches I gave to nobody? They weren't just speeches. They were prophecies.
All that belief in hope, gratitude, and love actually led me right where I needed to be. Right back to this damn driveway, but this time with my heart walking beside me in a tiny rainbow jacket.
Fun bonus photo:
My sister and I dressed as mafia gangsters on Halloween.
I was just about the same age as my daughter is now.
This porch/driveway has always been special to me.
(Peep the rebel blaster, we knew what was up.)
A Message from Your Driveway Prophet
So, that voice in your head telling you that you don't belong? It's full of shit.
Sometimes we need to stop searching so hard and just lean into hope a little more; the best views are usually around corners we almost didn't turn.
With love from my driveway to wherever you are…
-Jake
If this resonates with you, please share this post with a freind! I’d bet there's someone in your circle who might need these words today.
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