Category: Final Focus

No matter how old I get, I always seem to be waiting for the day I finally grow up. 

We spend our childhood looking toward all these mile markers — driving, graduation, college, marriage, parenthood — believing that once we pass a few of them, something magical will happen.

We’ll grow up. We’ll know things. We’ll FINALLY arrive and stop feeling like we’re just guessing our way through life. 

But here’s the secret no one tells you when you’re young:

You never really grow up. … At least not all the way. Sure, you age. You get larger … taller … wiser in some ways, tired in others. But truthfully, the older you get, the more you realize how little you actually know.

And the more you realize you’re not alone. 

The big secret in childhood is that no one ever really warns you that you never really grow up completely … no matter how old you get. I’m convinced even the oldest and wisest among us still have moments where they still feel 16 again, a little unsure and a little lost. Most days, I don’t have a clue what I’m doing. I am literally just “winging” my way through life.  At least once a week, I would give anything to call my mom (who’s been gone over 10 years now) and ask her to come over and help me fix my life.

Some days, my kids call out for a grown-up, and it takes me a minute to remember —that’s me. I’M the grown-up. And like so many other “grown-ups,” I still look around wondering how in the world I got here — But here I am. Trying. Failing. Guessing. Growing up. Hoping I’m choosing right. … And occasionally glancing over my shoulder to see if a ‘real’ grown-up is coming to save me. 

Spoiler—   they’re not. It’s us.  It’s always been us.

– Mackenzie Free –

Wife, mother, photographer & current resident of the unassumingly magical town of Steele, Alabama

What if, instead of making lofty New Year’s resolutions, we all agreed to simply try a little harder to be a little better than we were the year before?

To be kinder – not just when it’s easy, but when it’s hard and inconvenient. To be more honest, even when it’s uncomfortable, and to forgive more readily, knowing we’ve all fallen short at some point.

What if we gave a little more – of our money, our time and our patience? What if we extended a little more grace to the people who need it most, including ourselves?

What if instead of looking too long at what’s behind us or constantly chasing what’s next, we took more time to appreciate what’s here now?

What if we loved a little better the people we often take for granted? The people who stand beside us and see us clearly – flaws and all – and choose to love and support us, not just for who we will be … but for who we already are today.

What if we try a little harder to find joy in the present moment – and keep our feet firmly planted in appreciation for the beautiful gift of life right now?

– Mackenzie Free –

Wife, mother, photographer & current resident of the unassumingly magical town of Steele, Alabama

Not every season of life will look productive on the surface. Some years are meant for planting, others for harvesting … but the fallow season – the one where the soil rests – often feels the longest and hardest.

But in that rest, unseen forces are still at work. The ground is regenerating and restoring itself and what looks like emptiness now is actually preparation for future abundance.

Our lives often follow the same rhythm. There are seasons where we strive, create, and flourish. And there are seasons where we’re called to pause, recover, and be still.

This time may look and feel unproductive, even wasted. But the fallow season is not for nought – it’s a period of necessary preparation.

It’s a season of hidden and holy work, preparing the soil … and our soul … for the future fruits of our labor.

– Mackenzie Free –

Wife, mother, photographer & current resident of the unassumingly magical town of Steele, Alabama

Do you ever wonder about who you would have been if you had not become who you are?

If you’d chosen differently at pivotal moments … If you look back at all the decisions you made that shaped you into who you are now … and made the other choice? The degree you didn’t pursue. The person you loved and let go. The job you turned down. The dream you packed away because suddenly life demanded more. The version of yourself you quietly buried so that this version could rise.

We all carry with us a collection of unlived lives. Entire versions of ourselves tucked away in the folds of time — not forgotten, just … unexplored. At some point in life, I think we all look back and wonder, What if?  And briefly mourn those paths not taken. 

But I don’t think it’s fair look at them as regrets – I think we should see them as reminders… that we were always capable of more than we believed. That the desire to become still shines within us, even if it flickers instead of burns.

Because the truth is: life is not a straight line. It’s a winding, holy mess of hard choices and decisions … and a lot of divine providence – even if we didn’t see it at the time. And maybe the version of you reading this isn’t the one you once dreamed of becoming. But I bet you’re wiser. Softer. Rooted in things that matter more deeply than ambition ever could. Maybe you didn’t chase that big time-consuming career or pursue that degree – but now you have dirt under your nails, worn out boots, steady love, a lap full of kids and a life full of so much more than you originally dreamed. Maybe you traded glamor for grit. Applause for purpose. Fast for faithful.

So go ahead – Glance back for a moment and honor the lives you didn’t live. But don’t grieve them or let them make you bitter. Let them remind you just how many versions of you were always possible – and how beautiful it is that this is the life you chose to grow. 

    … And it’s never too late to keep growing. To keep becoming.

– Mackenzie Free –

Wife, mother, photographer & current resident of the unassumingly magical town of Steele, Alabama

The good life isn’t one-size-fits-all.

It’s not always a passport full of stamps, a huge house, or a stacked bank account. Sometimes it’s your well-worn Bible, a garden you planted, long talks with old friends or a family that still gathers for Sunday dinner. 

It’s less about 𝙬𝙝𝙖𝙩 you have, and more about 𝙬𝙝𝙤 you have & what you value. Less about climbing, more about rooting. Less about escaping and more about abiding. 

Because truth is—the “good life” is wildly subjective. To some, it’s the city skyline or the sound of the ocean.  To others, it’s wildflowers, fresh eggs, and a baby on your hip. For some, it’s traveling the world or climbing the corporate ladder. 

For others, it’s holding tightly to home and spending your days pouring into those you share it with.

It’s not always about how far you go—

Sometimes it’s as simple as who you come home to.

A messy house full of laughter, your favorite flowers blooming outside, a steady hand to hold, a warm meal and a place to rest your head. 

That is ‘the good life’ too.

– Mackenzie Free –

Wife, mother, photographer & current resident of the unassumingly magical town of Steele, Alabama

Not everyone will rise up to meet you. Not everything we wish for will work out in our favor. Not every doctor’s appointment is going to deliver good results.

Not every prayer will be answered the way we hope. Not every letter will bear good news. Not every friend will defend you or stand by your side. Not every “I love you” will be sincere.

Not every person who walks into our life will decide to stay.

But in every hard, heavy and seemingly unbearable situation we find ourselves in we have a choice …

We decide how to bear the news. We decide how it affects us. We decide how to carry on. We decide what to hold and what to leave behind.

WE decide. Sometimes our greatest growth and personal advancement emerges from our sadness and broken hearts.

Sometimes a greater awareness of ourselves and what we are capable of becoming … and surviving … arises through our disappointments and despair. Sometimes we rise up to exceed our own expectations when life is hardest and messiest.

But first WE must decide.  

– Mackenzie Free –

Wife, mother, photographer & current resident of the unassumingly magical town of Steele, Alabama