Will you mow a lawn for your dream?

So, there’s this kid named Jack.

He’s seventeen years old. He loves musical theater. He sings. He dances. He acts. He’s a triple threat. He dreams about being on Broadway when he’s older.

Jack discovered a company called the Broadway Collective. They run a summer program in NYC—five days of master classes led by Broadway legends, plus tickets to Tony Award-winning shows, dinner with cast members, and lots more. Basically, an absolute dream for any young performing artist.

Jack really wanted to attend this summer program.

His parents told him, “We love you, and we support you, but if you’re serious about this… then you need to earn money for the tuition, airfare, and hotel by yourself.”

Oh, Jack was serious.

He started mowing lawns, babysitting, doing all kinds of jobs after school. He saved up. One dollar at a time. Little by little, his dream-fund grew… and grew.

It took about a year, but he did it. He earned the cash. He enrolled. He got himself to NYC. When he arrived, he walked into the dance studio with fire in his eyes, looking like a tiger. He’d fought to be there. He made his dream happen.

Maybe you know someone just like Jack—someone who’s ferociously devoted to their goals. I think there’s a “Jack” inside every one of us. We all have that same power.

I once met a woman who sold all the furniture in her living room so that she could attend a business conference and meet her lifelong hero.

I know several people who wake up at 5am so they can crush a weightlifting session at the gym before the rest of the world even wakes up.

I know someone who spent a whole summer working on a fishery in Alaska, sloshing around in freezing water, knee deep in fish guts. Why? So she could save money—money that she re-invested into her art, producing a series of plays and one-woman shows.

This is how dreams are built. With deep love and passion. With tough choices and priorities and piggy banks that (usually) fill slowly over time. With persistence and determination and sometimes, an old lawn mower that you borrowed from a friend. Whatever it takes.