I write about Stuff

“Be strong in the Lord and in his mighty power… Put on all of God’s armor so that you will be able to stand firm against all strategies of the devil.” —Ephesians 6:10–12 NLT

When my children were small, I learned quickly how easily a little one can wander. One moment they’re beside you, their hand tucked safely in yours, and the next moment they’ve drifted toward something shiny, curious, or new. I remember the panic that rises in a mother’s chest when she turns and suddenly can’t see her child. It’s a fear that squeezes the breath right out of you.

There was a day—one I’ll never forget—when one of my little ones slipped into an elevator before I could reach him. The doors closed, and he was gone. In an instant, every protective instinct in me surged to the surface. I didn’t care who was watching or what I looked like. I pressed every button, called his name down every hallway, and searched every floor until I found him. And when I did, the relief washed over me like a wave. He had wandered, but he was safe. And after that moment, he understood something he hadn’t grasped before: staying close mattered.

Spiritually, we are not so different. We wander too—sometimes slowly, sometimes without noticing, sometimes because something distracts us or pulls our attention away. And just like a child who drifts too far from a parent, wandering from God leaves us vulnerable. Not because He abandons us, but because we step outside the shelter of His nearness.

Scripture is clear: we have an enemy who is both real and relentless. Peter describes him as a prowling lion, watching for the moment we drift just far enough to be unguarded. And as women—nurturers, caregivers, protectors—we know the importance of staying close to the One who watches over us. We know what it feels like to be stretched thin, overwhelmed, or spiritually tired. Those are the moments when wandering feels easiest… and most dangerous.

But staying close to God isn’t childish. It’s wise. It’s mature. It’s the instinct of someone who knows where her strength comes from. Paul urges us to “be strong in the Lord,” not in ourselves. He reminds us to put on God’s armor—not because we’re weak, but because we’re wise enough to know we can’t fight spiritual battles alone.

Staying close doesn’t just protect us; it steadies us. It comforts us. It anchors us when doubts swirl or fear rises. Psalm 94 paints such a tender picture: when we cry, “I am slipping,” God’s unfailing love holds us up. His comfort renews our hope. His presence becomes the place where our hearts can breathe again.

And if ever there was a time to stay close, it is now. The world is loud. Temptations are subtle. Distractions are constant. This is not the moment to wander, to drift, or to assume we can manage life on our own. This is the moment to lean in, to cling tightly, to walk closely with the One who knows the way and keeps us safe.

Stay close. Stay near. Stay held.

What about you? What early signs show up in your heart or habits when you begin to drift from God’s nearness?