"10-Four Chronicles | Heart in Hands Production"

Building Bridges from the Wreckage: Welcome to the Jac Winters Foundation

Our Vision

In a world that often feels like it’s grinding us down with its relentless storms, I’ve learned the hard way as a retired trucker, storyteller, and unyielding dreamer that the road to healing isn’t paved with easy miles.

It’s forged in the quiet confessions of survivors who’ve starred down loss, loneliness, and the kind of ache that clings like road dust you can’t shake.

That’s the soul of the Jac Winters Foundation: not just a name on paper, but a living promise I’ve built from my own scars.

A safe harbor where the broken can rebuild, the weary can whisper their truths without fear, and the fighters can find the fuel to rise again.

This vision was born straight from the pages of To Say Goodbye Again—it’s not just words on a page; it’s the groundwork for something bigger, a foundation for survivors, dreamers, and anyone needing that quiet strength to keep going.

I’m channeling that same fire into real action: workshops for the quiet ones craving to be heard, retreats laced with nature’s balm, and a community fierce in its kindness.

Because here’s the truth I live loud—evil thrives in silence, but hope? Hope spreads when we link arms, share scars, and choose light over the long shadows.

From the cab of my big rig, to the blank pages now filled with words of strength and passion; my journey taught me one unbreakable lesson; we’re all hauling invisible loads, but no one has to do it solo.

The Jac Winters Foundation isn’t some distant “someday”—it’s here, one story, one touch, one defiant step at a time.

I believe in partnerships that multiply impact, and together, we can turn this promise into a movement that changes lives.

From my life to yours,
Jac Winters

Please Remember Me

My youth is sliding off a cliff, and I can’t pull it back

heels dig into crumbling earth, a tragic attack.

The heart beats slower now, a drum that’s lost its fire,

each thump a whisper of what was,

a body that doesn’t bend like it used to.

I love this life, though— don’t let me go. The way the moon glows as

I drift to sleep, soft as a lover’s promise.

The sight of fresh winter, snow cloaking the world in quiet,

even if the cold gnaws my bones, a horrid throe that lingers.

The grain of wheat crunches beneath my feet, the

thistle in my garden pricks my hand— just a weed,

but bittersweet, like this life I clutch so tight.

I look to her, old faithful, always there when

my strength falters, her eyes a lantern in the dark.

But time takes lives, leaves home a little hollower,

and I’m afraid of that last breath—

the ultimate test.

Will I show the world my heart? Will they

hear my cry, know my faith, see my courage as I rest?

Lord, keep me on this great land where my feet are firmly planted.

Your creation is so amazing—

the sun glowing upon my face, the world

so pretty in this place. I take nothing for granted, not the sage’s sharp perfume,

not the champagne’s fizz, a toast to life’s highs and lows.

I can’t imagine a better space, especially one I can’t see.

It’s all a mystery to me, and closing my eyes feels too hard to believe.

Please, I beg you, show me something to ease my mind.

Postpone that reprieve—

I don’t want to leave. When my day comes due,

and you offer a life brand new,

I’ll reach out my hand, trusting you’ll catch me too.

But for now, let someone whisper my name,

let my echo linger in the wheat, in the thistle, in the moonlight’s glow.

P.S.

Thanks for the champagne, for the sage, for this life I love.

Jac Winters