When We Miss What Matters Most

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Sometimes I look up from my phone and realize I’ve missed the ocean - that quiet masterpiece God paints across the sky each evening. I tell myself I was just checking an email, a recipe, a message that couldn’t wait. Maybe even for a good reason. However, while trying to keep up with the world, I lose touch with the life right in front of me.

As parents, we set screen limits for our children, we tell them time’s up, devices off, yet our own screens stay lit. The message we send is louder than our words: connection can wait.

As a counselor, I once asked a group of students what they thought their parents were doing at that very moment. Eleven out of twelve said, “playing games,” “watching YouTube,” or “on TikTok.” One little boy said softly, “My daddy only plays games on his phone. He doesn’t play with me.”

That’s the quiet wound of disconnection - when presence is replaced by pixels.

Attachment research tells us that children feel safest when they are seen, heard, and delighted in. When our eyes are elsewhere, they notice. Over time, that gap becomes more than just emotional distance - it becomes a risk to their sense of safety and worth.

May we look up more often - to the sky, to our children, to the faces that reflect God’s handiwork right beside us. Presence is protection. Love, after all, begins with attention.