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The Driveway, the "Gift of Gab," and the Long Road Home

A couple of decades ago, my dad and I stood in his driveway in Louisiana, caught in one of those deep, lingering conversations before I began the long cross-country trek back to my home in Oregon. He looked at me, chuckled, and said:

"You were born with the gift of gab!"

That driveway was our sacred space. It was where I tried to tell him everything I wanted him to know, and where I waited for the wisdom I needed him to share.

Years before that, my mom would watch my life unfold or listen to stories of her grandchildren’s antics and give me a different kind of nudge: "You need to write a book!" My reply back then was always the same: "Yeah, probably... but it’ll be years from now."

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Years Later: Here I Am

Well, "years later" has arrived. I am finally talking and writing—not just about my life, but about the things that affect all of us.

Through my journey, I’ve navigated many crucibles. These aren't just "tests"—they are the refining spaces where we are shaped. I made a life-changing discovery along the way: Learning to thrive inside your crucible is far less painful than simply trying to survive it. Even worse is trying to jump out of the crucible entirely, only to land right in the fire.

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Why I’m Here (And Why I Want You Here)

I’m here to use that "gift of gab" to create a space for us. I want to share the lessons forged in the heat so that you know you aren’t alone in yours.

This is a community of respect, support, and encouragement. I invite you to join me in the Forum. Ask the hard questions, share the subjects on your heart, and give your feedback. Let’s talk about the things that truly matter—together.