Elsewhere

I’m fortunate to work from home, and our kids are homeschooled, which means we spend a lot of time together as a family. This is a tremendous blessing—one I’m deeply grateful for. But it also means that sometimes Dad comes downstairs still in "work mode." Or I’m kicking back, watching playoff baseball. Or maybe I’m flipping through a new book that just arrived in the mail.

There’s nothing wrong with work, leisure, or hobbies—they’re all good things in their proper place. But if I’m being honest, these activities often take me elsewhere.

And if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that little kids can sense when you’re not fully present. It’s a strange but undeniable fact of (little) human psychology: if your kids detect even a hint of distraction, chaos follows. The wheels come off!

You could replace work or hobbies with almost anything—answering a phone call, scrolling through social media (a notorious culprit), or even sending a quick text. If you’re standing in a room full of people but texting, let’s be real—you’re not there. You may physically be present, but your mind is elsewhere.

And this divided attention has consequences. It disturbs the peace in our homes and relationships because when we’re not present, the people around us feel it. They feel the disconnect.

That’s why we need anchors in our lives—habits and rituals that help us stay rooted in the here and now. This is what prayer does for us. When we pray, it calls us back to the present moment, reminding us that God is dwelling within us, here, right now. It reorients us.

And here’s the paradox: by turning our attention away from worldly distractions and focusing on this moment, we begin to catch a glimpse of a heavenly elsewhere. Prayer grounds us in the now, but it also opens our eyes to eternity.

In this eternal perspective, the things that seem to compete for our attention—our work, our hobbies, our family life—begin to fall into place. In the light of God’s love, these various parts of our lives aren’t at odds. Instead, they fit together like pieces of a puzzle. My relationship with my wife, my children, my work, and my leisure activities can all harmonize, but only when I allow God to arrange them.

This eternal gaze begins, paradoxically, by being fully present in the moment. And this is something we can only practice by turning our mind and heart to God, right where we are.