Drifting

This morning, as I thought about my routines and the small daily things I want to do better, the word drifting came to mind.

I felt myself slipping away from some of the good patterns in my life. But with that thought came a memory that is both tender and instructive.

When Kelly and I traveled to the southern coast of Texas for work, we always tried to stay through a weekend so we could enjoy the ocean. We loved everything about it: the sound, the beauty, and the way it made us feel.

We would gather our beach supplies, set up our chairs, secure everything against the wind, and then walk hand in hand into the water.

The waves were strong, and Kelly always held my hand because he knew how easily they could knock me over. I love this memory of us walking together and the gentle way he showed his love for me by wanting to help me and stay close.

While we played in the water, we tried to stay lined up with our chairs and belongings on the shoreline. That was our marker, our little lighthouse on the sand.

But one day, after laughing, catching waves, and simply enjoying being together, we looked up and realized we had drifted far from where we started.

The current had quietly carried us down the shoreline without us noticing.

The movement was so subtle, almost disguised by the joy of the moment, that we didn't realize how far we had gone until we looked toward the shore for our marker.

We were safe, but we had set a boundary for ourselves so that returning to our things would not be difficult when we were ready to go back. And we knew that if we didn't make our way back, we would simply continue drifting farther away.

So we worked our way back with steady determination, swimming, walking, and holding hands until we reached the place we had anchored ourselves, our home base.

I love recalling this memory when I think about drifting spiritually.

Prayer, scripture study, church, service, and the other things we do to keep ourselves spiritually grounded can become our markers, helping us recognize where we are in relation to our Savior.

It is so easy to drift.

Not because we are rebellious or careless, but because life has currents. Responsibilities, distractions, exhaustion, grief, and even good things can quietly pull us away from where we intended to be.

And just like in the ocean, drifting happens slowly. Softly. Almost pleasantly.

Until one day we look up and realize we are no longer aligned with our Savior the way we want to be.

I love knowing that Jesus Christ never moves. He never drifts. He simply waits for us to look up and notice where we are.

And when we do, He helps us return, gently, patiently, and without shame.

Drifting is part of mortality. It is not necessarily failure. It is the natural pull of a world full of currents.

The lesson isn't to never drift.

The lesson is to notice sooner.

Look up more often.

Check our alignment.

Pay attention to where the current is carrying us.

And when we realize we have drifted, we simply turn back toward Him.

The Savior is not measuring how far we drift. He is watching how often we reach for Him.