When You're There, But Not Always Fully There

I’m home most nights. I show up to the games (most of them), the practices (sometimes), the dinner table (cooking while they eat sometimes), on my phone the other times. I tuck them in. I hear about their days, or at least the parts they choose to share. 

But sometimes, even when I’m there… I’m not all the way there. 

My body’s in the room, but my mind is somewhere else, thinking about work, our staff, deadlines, the people we’re trying to serve, the texts I haven’t returned, the next crisis I need to manage. 

Sometimes it’s my phone that pulls me away. Sometimes it’s guilt. Sometimes it’s the pressure of trying to build something that matters beyond just my own family, something for the community, for others who are hurting, for the legacy I want to leave behind. 

But it’s a hard truth to sit with: the people I love the most sometimes get what’s left of me,

not the best of me. 

And I wonder, is this normal?  

Are my kids going to remember that I was home, or that I was always tired?  

Will they see the mission behind my work, or just feel like they were in competition with it? 

It’s hard to know.  

They don’t always say much.  

But kids feel everything. They notice the moments you’re distracted. They recognize when your “uh-huh” means you didn’t really hear them. They know the difference between your full attention and your half-hearted nod. 

And it stings, because they deserve more. But I’m also human. I’m trying to carry a lot. And the truth is, some days, I don’t know how to do both well. 

I don’t want to give up on the work I believe in.  But I also don’t want my kids to grow up thinking they had to earn my attention. 

So I’m LEARNING TO PAUSE. 

To really look when they talk.  

To put the phone down, even if something feels urgent.  

To choose connection over control.  

To say, “I’m sorry I wasn’t paying attention”, and mean it.  

To let them see me try again. 

I’m learning that being a present parent doesn’t mean being perfect.  It just means being real. Being willing to acknowledge when we drift, and humble enough to come back. 

Because what our kids need most isn’t perfection, it’s PRESENCE.  

Even if it’s messy. Even if we get it wrong some days. 

What they’ll remember is that we kept coming back. That we stayed connected. That we cared enough to try. 

So if you’re in that place, pulled between purpose and parenting, between work that matters and kids who matter more, you’re not alone. 

This life we’re building isn’t easy. But it’s worth pausing for.  Even just a few minutes of undivided attention can shift something big in a child’s heart. 

We can’t undo the moments we missed. But we can start being more intentional with the ones still in front of us. 

And maybe, just maybe, that’s enough. 

It’s about staying connected, not just to your kids, but to yourself. To your values. To your why. It’s about course-correcting when you need to. Apologizing when you should. Forgiving yourself for being human. And modeling growth so your children know they’re allowed to grow too. 

If you're in that space right now, overwhelmed, stretched thin, wondering if your presence is making a difference, let me just say this: 

You don’t need to do it all. 

You just need to keep being there. 

Not the perfect version of you. The real one. The one who tries again. The one who listens, even if it’s with tired eyes. The one who chooses love, even when it’s hard. 

This is legacy work.  And like all legacy work, it’s slow. It’s messy.  

But it’s powerful beyond measure. 

Keep going. 

You’re not just raising a family. 

You’re becoming the kind of person they’ll remember not for being flawless, but for being FAITHFUL.