Not long ago, my family and I had the privilege of going on a cruise. As I sat on the deck drinking coffee, I overheard a heartbreaking conversation between a 10-year-old boy and his mother.

"But why, Mom?" the boy asked, oblivious to those around him. "Why did he even bother to come?"

I could see his mother struggle to frame her answer. "Well," she said, "he's here. And he paid for all of us to go on this trip."

"He's not here!" her son shouted. "He's been on the phone or on his computer the whole time!"

And then came the shot to the heart: "Doesn't he want to be with me?"

You can't get much closer, physically, than spending seven days in a tiny cabin on a cruise ship. But what broke this boy's heart was seeing double—having a dad physically present but emotionally and relationally absent.

Sound convicting?

It was to me. I'm amazed at how quickly my children are growing up. As I think back, I'm ashamed at how many times I've looked past Kari to catch a meaningless play in some game, or hurried through a bedtime story with Laura so I could get back to the computer to finish a project.