I'm 40-something, I work on cars, and I'm still figuring out what I want to be.

I'm an auto repair technician. Been doing it about 20 years.

I've got a wife, young kids, a house, and a life that keeps me honest about where my time actually goes.

A couple years ago our youngest daughter spent about a week in the NICU. Sitting in that room, watching her — I couldn't do anything. I fix things for a living. That's the whole job. And I couldn't fix that. I just had to sit there and trust. That week cleared a lot of noise out of my head. The stuff I kept putting off, the things I told myself I'd do someday — it all looked different after that.

I came out of it moving. Slow at first. But moving.

Now I'm building websites using a.i. tools I'm still learning. Running a fitness thing for men in their 40s who feel like they've been running on empty. Neither of those things is finished. I don't have it all figured out. But I stopped waiting to.

That poem at the top of this page — I put it there because I know what that weight feels like. Years of knowing you should be doing something and not doing it. I don't want to carry that anymore.

My faith got me to the other side of that hospital room. My family is what I'm building toward. Some days that's the whole explanation.

I just want to look back at this season and know I didn't waste it.