What Matters Most
What we build is important, but who we become matters most.
Just last week, someone asked me what it takes to balance being an entrepreneur, a husband, and a father. It was a good question—one that caught me off guard because, truthfully, I’m still figuring it out.
In that moment, I gave the answer I’ve leaned on for years: “It’s all about balance.” It sounded right, maybe even a little wise. But a few nights later, at exactly 2:34 a.m., I woke up out of a dead sleep thinking about that conversation.
I had an epiphany and have since changed my answer (something I reserve the right to do).
The goal isn’t balance.
The goal is alignment.
Allow me to explain.
Each of these roles—entrepreneur, husband, father—demands something different from me. But at their core, they’re all asking the same question: Who are you becoming in the process?
And let me tell you, if you’re not intentional about answering that question, life has a way of answering it for you.
In entrepreneurship, it’s easy to get caught up in metrics, growth, and validation. Ego thrives on those things. It loves the spotlight and whispers, “You’re doing great—just keep proving it.”
But the work that really shapes you doesn’t happen in the metrics. It happens in the moments.
When you lose a deal you thought was a sure thing and choose to handle it with grace instead of bitterness.
When a team member shines, and you celebrate their success louder than your own.
When the plans fall apart, and you press forward anyway, knowing persistence matters more than perfection.
These moments don’t show up in quarterly reports, but they’re the real measure of success. They’re where character is built.
At home, the same principle applies. If ego loves the hustle of business, love thrives in the stillness of family life.
It’s not the big gestures that make you a great dad. It’s the small, consistent choices—telling bedtime stories, showing up at practices, and sitting on the couch when they want to talk about their day. These moments don’t make headlines, but they’re where the deepest connections are formed.
I’ll be honest: I’ve had seasons where I got this backward. Times when I poured so much into my work that my family got what was left of me (instead of the best of me). It wasn’t intentional, but the result was the same—missed moments I can’t get back.
That’s where margin comes in.
Margin has been one of the hardest lessons for me to learn, but it’s also been one of the most important.
Margin is the space between your limit and your load. I've said it before and I'll say it again: if your schedule has zero margin, your life will fall apart. Without margin, you’re constantly running on empty—snapping at your kids, zoning out during dinner, or skipping that date night you promised your spouse.
Hurry kills everything we hold dear.
The problem is, ego loves a packed schedule. It tells us that being busy means being important. That every email, project, or opportunity is a step closer to success.
But love doesn’t work that way. Love requires time, presence, and focus—all things that get squeezed out when we’re running too fast.
I used to believe the hustle was just part of life. But the older I get, the more I realize that the best things—marriage, fatherhood, meaningful work—can’t thrive without breathing room.
Here’s the truth: entrepreneurship, fatherhood, and marriage aren’t competing priorities. They’re interconnected. Each one shapes the others, and the person you are in one area inevitably impacts the others.
If I’m short-tempered at home, it’s usually because I’ve been running too hard at work. If I’m patient and present with my team, it’s because I’ve learned to be patient and present with my kids.
The question isn’t whether you can balance it all. It’s whether you’re becoming someone who can align these roles in a way that reflects your values.
For me, that alignment comes back to a few simple choices:
Choosing presence over productivity. Work can wait; your family shouldn’t have to.
Choosing humility over ego. Your business doesn’t need a hero; it needs a leader who empowers others.
Choosing margin over hustle. Burnout helps no one. The people you love need you at your best.
When I think about my life 20 years from now, I don’t want to be remembered for how many clients I landed or how much revenue I generated. I want my wife to say I made her feel cherished. I want my kids to remember that I was there—fully present—for the big moments and the small ones.
Entrepreneurship, fatherhood, and marriage aren’t just things I do; they’re who I am. They’ve forced me to grow, challenged my priorities, and taught me what matters most.
The work we do is important, but who we become will always matter more.
If you made it this far, thanks for reading my ramblings.
The process of putting thoughts into words is a form of accountability for me. It reminds me of who I want to be when my actions don’t line up with my values. It forces me to pause, reflect, and recalibrate when I fall short—because I do, often.
If anything, writing this isn’t about offering answers—it’s about reminding myself of the lessons I’ve learned and the kind of man I want to become. This process keeps me accountable, especially on the days when my priorities slip or my ego gets too loud.
So, if these words feel like they were written for you, know they were also written for me. And if you’re wrestling with the same tensions of work, family, and self, know that you’re not alone. We’re all figuring it out as we go, one small, intentional choice at a time.
That’s all for today.
Godspeed.
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PS — The photo attached to this post is of me with my (almost) 13-year-old daughter, Lila Blue. This week, a boy asked for her phone number after her basketball game. I wasn’t there (lucky for him), but just so we’re clear: if you want to talk to her, you’ll have to talk to me first.
Also worth noting: I bench-pressed 285 lbs last week (100 lbs more than I weigh), I’ve got a solid right hook, I can run a marathon on a moment's notice, and I proudly exercise my 2nd amendment rights. I’ve known this day was coming for a while, and I've prepared accordingly.
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