We all reach for our phones looking for a moment of relief, but what are we really searching for? In this thought-provoking article from Unbound Grace, discover how our digital habits can reveal a deeper longing for connection, purpose, and lasting peace. Read the full story to explore how grace offers something no screen ever can.

Read the full post here: https://unboundgrace.life/blog/what-are-you-scrolling-after/

Today’s Agency Kick-Off Meeting will stay with me—not because of presentations or agendas, but because of what it reminded me to value. It was, in many ways, a celebration built around a few simple numbers.

Two hundred fifty.

As our country reaches this milestone, I’m reminded how fortunate we are. Each time I return home, I feel it—that sense of opportunity and gratitude we should never take lightly. It reinforces perspective and the responsibility that comes with it.

Ten.

Luke Thomas marked ten years with us, and his journey reflects dedication in its truest form. Always contributing, always improving—Luke represents what it means to grow with a company and make it better every day.

Twenty.

Recognizing Connie Marefka for twenty years was deeply personal. Connie represents consistency, trust, and leadership at its best. She has been deeply involved in continually improving our processes—finding better ways to work, making others around her more effective, and strengthening the foundation of how we operate. She sets the standard, and quite simply, she is someone I—and our company—count on without hesitation.

Two.

The two weeks my family and I spent in Africa with Hope for Kenya changed me. The video shared during the meeting was stirring—powerfully showing the needs of the kids and the reality they face. Watching my children connect so naturally reshaped my perspective.

Hope there is real. It’s tangible. And it calls for action.

Building a new boy’s dorm is no longer an idea—it’s a commitment. One I hope many of you will take part in as it unfolds.

In the end, it’s never just numbers. It’s what they stand for—people, purpose, and the privilege to make a difference. Have a great 4th of July holiday.

HOPE FOR KENYA VIDEO: VIEW HERE

Saturday, I did something small that felt monumental—I walked into a Verizon store and walked out with one phone.

For 19 years, I carried two.

That decision didn’t come from efficiency. It came from exposure. There was a time when a dealer prone to lighting me up at exactly the wrong moments—made me realize how quickly business could bleed into everything else. One Sunday, walking out of church with Amy, a line-crossing email prompted me to split life in two: one phone for work, one for everything else.

And I stayed that way—reachable, responsive, always on.

Then came Africa.

Two weeks without the habit of checking. No constant refresh. No pull to respond. Just pockets of quiet that turned into something I didn’t expect—clarity. Not detachment from responsibility, but distance from the noise we too often elevate as importance.

Because the truth is, we all stretch to stay connected. We want to be there for everything a friend, a client, a parent, or a child needs. But I was reminded that even brief moments of disconnection can be one of the most powerful things we have in a world that never stops asking for more.

It made me ask a simple question: are all the things demanding my attention actually worthy of it?

There’s also a passage I’ve been thinking about that leads to an even harder question: am I really that important, or have I just allowed everything to feel urgent?

So, Saturday, I made a change.

This isn’t a step back. I’m still here. Still engaged. If anything, it sharpens the edge—choosing presence when it matters most.

One phone now. Same availability. Better perspective.

And if Verizon sells used devices…there’s one on a shelf in the back that’s been ridden hard.

The Great Reset. That’s how I would put a bow on two weeks in Kenya.

I turned my phone off. Email off. Not once checked either. What that does is simple—it brings everything in front of you back into focus. My wife and our four kids were there with me, and for the first time in a long time, nothing competed with that. Not work. Not noise. Just what was right in front of us.

Working alongside Hope for Kenya, we were engulfed by the kids at the Joy School, and in the communities surrounding it – a whole new society I truly had not thought that deeply about. Children whose conditions were hard to reconcile—homes without basic comforts, we sat on rocks to talk. And in those moments, there was no distance between “us” and “them,” only a shared humanity.

You think you understand gratitude—until you see life where basic needs aren’t guaranteed. Seeing it firsthand—the lack of basic things like food, clothing, a place to sit—it gives you a perspective you don’t get any other way. Some of the saddest things I had ever seen, but very real.

We talk about America being the 1%. The reality is—we are. And standing there, the feelings of gratefulness for how blessed we are in our country, in our community, in our circle, overcame me the whole time.  Not in a loud or performative way. Just a quiet understanding that seeing it firsthand changes what matters—and what should.

The Great Reset wasn’t about doing good to feel good. It proved to be more  about seeing clearly when you remove the noise and allow perspective back in.

“For what does it profit a man to gain the whole world and forfeit his soul?” — Mark 8:36

That question has stayed with me.  Because once you see it, you can’t unsee it.

As I get ready to head to Kenya with Amy and our four kids, I’ve been thinking about how to describe what this moment feels like. The best word I’ve got is calm.

That might not be what you’d expect. We’re traveling halfway around the world to a place we’ve never been, stepping into a completely different way of life. This trip really came together through Philip Coltart, our cinematographer who also serves as U.S. Director for Hope for Kenya. Last year, we sent four of our team members. What they experienced stuck with me. This year, it’s our turn as a family.

We’ll spend time at the Joy Schools in Ndhiwa, helping where there is real need—clean water, education, and building a home for a family.

With all that lies ahead,  I feel a real sense of peace. I believe that comes from knowing this is something we’re supposed to do. Not having all the answers, but being willing to follow it anyway.

I’m also calm about what I’m leaving behind.

For the first time, both phones are off. No forwarding emails. No checking in. I’ll turn them on for pictures, and that’s about it. I trust our team completely, and I’m grateful for them.

I am excited. There’s a safari during the trip, and I’m told there’s a hot air balloon ride. I’m not great with heights, so we’ll see how that goes.

More than anything, I’m going to learn. To experience this with my family and take it in.

I don’t know exactly what this trip will bring.

But I calmly believe it’s going to matter—and I can’t wait to share what comes from it when we get back.

This morning started the same way most good days do—quiet, unhurried. A little time in prayer, some reflection, and then Scripture. Nothing dramatic, just a steady rhythm that has a way of bringing clarity if you let it.

Then this:

“Whatever your hand finds to do, do it with all your might, for in the realm of the dead, where you are going, there is neither working nor planning nor knowledge nor wisdom.” — Ecclesiastes 9:10

It’s a direct statement. No cushion. No attempt to make it easier to hear. Solomon simply tells the truth—our time to contribute, build, create, and lead has an endpoint. And because of that, what we do today carries more weight than we tend to give it.

For me, that immediately connects back to where this all started. I grew up watching my dad do this business the right way—steady, committed, all in. I was that kid sketching out cartoon ads, even adding the payment line and disclosure like it mattered. At the time, it just felt natural. Looking back, it was a reflection of what I was seeing modeled every day: if you’re going to do something, you give it your full effort.

What’s interesting is there was never some grand plan mapped out. But there was always a standard.

You see the same thing in leaders like Nick Saban—an everyday commitment to doing the work in front of you at a high level. Not focused on yesterday, not getting lost in tomorrow, but executing today with discipline and consistency.

That’s where this lands for me. Not philosophical—practical.

The work in front of you today matters. Maybe more than you think. And holding something back—effort, focus, intention—doesn’t really line up when you realize the window isn’t indefinite.

If it’s in your hands today, it deserves your best.

It started with Michele.

Michele Alfano’s bio landed in front of me for a simple reason: a recent promotion and a routine request for approval before it went live on our website. Nothing unusual—until one line telling of her mission trips, roofing, and hanging sheetrock in the summer heat of Memphis and the Appalachians. I laughed, then smiled. In just a few words, it explained the kind of leader she is—hands-on, unafraid of work, long before any title followed.

That moment sent me back through the rest of our leadership bios, reading them differently this time. Not skimming for credentials, but for backstories.

What I found was remarkable.

Leaders who worked overnight shifts in rubber plants before heading to class. Others who stocked shelves, packed groceries, washed cars, repo’d vehicles, or slung sandwiches in a brutal post‑9/11 job market just to keep moving forward.

Some started at 12 or 13—helping in family dry‑cleaning shops, fixing engines, pressure‑washing driveways, or selling firewood before they could even drive [that would be me].

Others learned discipline in print shops, aerospace quality labs, fish markets, crisis hotlines, car lots—and yes, from learning how to skin an animal and tan the hide.

And one leader climbed literal mountains—including Mt. Kilimanjaro. That detail adds texture and reality, reminding us that leadership is forged in real effort, risk, and perseverance, not just résumé lines.

Different paths. Same foundation. Every one of our leaders showed early they weren’t afraid of work—or of starting at the bottom. They climbed not by chasing titles, but by doing the job in front of them, learning the why, and earning the next rung.

We’re fortunate—blessed, really—to be led by people who were workers first. Titles came later.

There are a few moments in life that tighten your chest and sharpen your senses. Sitting still as a turkey slips through the woods. Watching a big buck step into the open at last light. And then there’s this—being at a youth baseball field, watching your youngest son walk to the plate, knowing there’s nothing you can do but hope.

This spring, I had the privilege of being an assistant coach on Ford’s 8U team. We didn’t have the most experienced roster. We started rough, losing 3 of the first 4 games. But week by week, those kids grew. Confidence replaced nerves. Hustle replaced hesitation. Ten straight wins later, they found themselves in the championship game.

From the dugout last night, I wasn’t a coach as much as I was a dad—heart racing, hands tied. Ford battled. He got on base every time. He took hits in the field, got bounced around, and popped back up. In one inning defensively, he got all three outs. The team played hard and still came up just short.

After the tears, we talked about grit. I was told long ago by another father who said that if there was one trait he hoped his kids carried into the world, it was grit—the ability to stay in it regardless of circumstance. Real grit. The kind that keeps you standing when the scoreboard says otherwise.

Love shows up by being there. Grit shows up by staying in. And watching your child do both—win or lose—that’s what makes a father’s heart beat fastest of all.

We just came off our Leadership Retreat—twenty-five of the company’s best in one room, aligned on course and clear on what it takes to win. The objective for this year: confirm who we are, how we lead, and what we expect from ourselves and each other.

Two statements guided that expectation: Attitude Is Everything and Enthusiasm Creates Attitude. Both are more than slogans in our office, they are standards.

In a business driven by creativity and execution, a positive mindset creates momentum, sustains energy, and elevates the work. The difference between capable people is often small, but outlook is a decisive difference.

Skills matter.

Experience matters.

Process matters.

But none of those are the thing that separates winners from everyone else.

I walked away more convinced the real separator is enthusiasm. When teams share enthusiasm for the mission, culture strengthens and results follow. Leadership sets tone before direction. People respond to example long before instruction.

So thankful for the devoted crew that approached this retreat, just as they do every day – ready to build. Their shared optimism, pride in the work, and commitment to one another keep this company moving forward.

Proud to lead this team. Grateful for every hand on the wheel

Yesterday I turned 46. Not a traditional milestone, not one of those birthdays you circle years in advance. Yet it became one of the most meaningful days I can remember—not because of anything I planned, but because of what unfolded.

From early morning on, messages started coming in. People I speak with regularly. People I hadn’t heard from in years. Simple texts. Thoughtful notes. Calls. In the middle of busy schedules and responsibilities, people stopped and took time. That stays with you.

One message particularly stood out. A college friend I hadn’t connected with in years reached out. We caught up the way men do—talking about kids, work, hunting, fishing, and life. A simple exchange, but a meaningful reminder of shared history and how quickly time passes.

The day was full of emotions. I felt humility, gratitude, and a quiet sense of pride—not in accomplishments, but in relationships built through consistency, integrity, and effort over time.

I’m keenly aware of how blessed I am. Birthdays have become less about celebration and more about gratitude. I’m thankful for Jesus Christ guiding my life, including the clarity and strength that have come with choosing not to drink. That support shapes how I show up for my family, my team, and myself.

The lasting takeaway? Responsibility. Effort matters. Recognition matters. I intend to be more deliberate about reaching out and acknowledging others. Moments like this happen when people choose to show up—and that’s where the real happy begins.