Out of Sight, Out of Mind
What Deployment Taught Me About Presence
Everyone knows the saying, “Out of sight, out of mind.” For me, those words now cut deeper than ever. That phrase has taken on an entirely new meaning because of the military deployment my family is still walking through.
When it began, I hit the ground running. I felt determined—invigorated even—to keep up with home life for my daughter and me, ranch responsibilities, and work. The urgency of those first days fueled me, knowing I was the one physically present to hold everything together for our family.
The Freshness Fades
Support poured in. People checked in often, offered help with tasks, and even joined us at church. In those early weeks, the end of the deployment didn’t feel quite so far away.
“Two are better than one, because they have a good return for their labor: If either of them falls down, one can help the other up.”
In those first weeks, the support and sympathy from friends and family was a wonderful way to keep my spirits high and to help me set a strong example for our daughter. The support we have received will never go unnoticed—we are beyond thankful for it.
But somewhere along the way—maybe halfway in, maybe sooner—things shifted. Fewer messages came. Fewer visits. Less help. Fewer Sundays with us at church. And yet, I kept moving forward. Some days, I managed with strength and focus. Other days, I collapsed in tears on the kitchen floor. Still others, I found myself building others up in their struggles, even while carrying my own.
Now, eight months in, it feels as though the world has gone back to normal for everyone else. But for me, the ache of my husband’s absence has only grown deeper. The empty space he left behind feels even emptier now.
This deployment has opened my eyes to the truth of that old saying, “Out of sight, out of mind.” For me, Gannon’s absence is still painfully fresh. But for others, because they don’t feel the weight of the distance, it has faded into the background of their lives. They’ve moved on. We cannot.
And in this, God revealed something to me: the same is true of our relationship with Him. When we let Him slip out of sight, He soon drifts out of mind. And our lives begin to show it.
Feeling Out of Sight & Out of Mind
Feeling out of sight and out of mind carries a weight that’s hard to put into words. It’s feeling like an afterthought—or worse, not important enough. It’s watching others be so busy that they don’t seem to have time to send a simple text, even when I know I’ve thought about them throughout the day. Realizing I’ve also let moments of outreach slip by only amplifies the sting of feeling forgotten.
The isolation of wearing so many hats—mother and father, husband and wife, caretaker and provider, chef and maid—without ever feeling like I can step away takes a toll I can’t fully describe. When life moves forward for everyone else, yet I feel stuck in the absence, the weight of being forgotten feels crushing.
And then God showed me: when we allow Him to be pushed to the sidelines, He becomes “out of sight.” Our hearts reflect that absence. We stop loving our neighbors. We stop noticing the small ways we could brighten someone’s day. Sometimes we even allow bitterness or ill will to creep in.
I’ve seen this in myself. There are moments when God wasn’t my forethought—like when bitterness rises over how people treat me. I want justice for myself in the moment, but God reminds me instead to extend grace.
Other times, I’ve felt angry watching people make time for vacations or outings while I’m longing for a simple check-in. But then I’m reminded: I, too, have been caught up in my own life before. The difference is, my current life isn’t “everyday life”—it’s a season. A hard season. A season where I know I need help.
The Danger of Spiritual Drift
Letting God drift to the edges of our lives will always show up—in our choices, our actions, and even our mindset. And the longer we leave Him out of sight, the worse it becomes.
When impatience, anxiety, and frustration are allowed to creep into our thoughts, they begin shaping the way we choose. At first, it may be small compromises or short tempers. But when God is kept out of sight, those choices take root and grow into repeated actions. Actions like screaming at our children in anger, turning to substances for relief, or even entertaining the darkest thoughts of ending it all. These are the fruit of pushing God into the corner of life.
“Seek the Lord while He may be found; call on Him while He is near.”
The sobering truth is this: God is always present and ready. He has already made the first move toward us. But our experience of His presence diminishes when we do not actively seek Him. And when that seeking is absent long enough, we become numb to His warnings. Even the terrifying words of Jesus—“Away from Me, for I do not know you”—lose their impact on a hardened heart.
But that warning is no small thing. If God commands us away because He does not know us, the result is eternal separation—writhing in hell for all eternity, instead of rejoicing in His love where everything finally makes sense.
Keeping God in Sight
Instead of pushing our Father to the corner of our lives, we must keep Him at the center. Intentional actions—scripture reading, prayer, worship, repentance, and reflection—are the practices of someone who keeps God in sight.
When God is central, everything else aligns. Relationships with friends and family become about sharpening one another instead of comparing. Marriages are rooted in Christ, with husbands loving their wives as Christ loves the church. Parents lead by example, showing their children what it looks like to walk faithfully. And the only way we can live this way is through intention.
I’ll be the first to admit—I wasn’t always good at intentionally seeking God in my daily life. But everything shifted when I started opening His Word for myself. From there, the rest began to fall into place. Now, I keep a daily devotional, a book of prayers for my husband, and a journal of prompts that I’ve worked into my routine. These simple tools have helped me maintain awareness of God through this incredibly difficult season of deployment.
Of course, there are still days when I don’t get to all of it—life with a two-year-old makes that inevitable. But even then, I can stop to read a verse or whisper a short prayer. Because it’s not about perfection—it’s about intentionally inviting Him into our everyday lives.
After all, free will is a gift. And how we use it shows where our hearts truly rest.
The Gift of Awareness
Deployment has taught me so much—more than I can fully process even now. But one truth has become clear: the attention I give to God and to others matters deeply.
Some days, I may only be able to give my loved ones 30%. But on the hardest days, that 30% is actually my 100%. And that’s where the beauty of the Body of Christ comes in. We need the church, the people around us, to help carry the other 70%. That’s not weakness—it’s community. I’ve learned to be grateful for those who step in to fill the gaps I cannot, because I need them.
Feeling alone, forgotten, and isolated is crushing. Yet, in that very ache, I realized something: I needed to feel it for my attention to shift. Instead of focusing on who wasn’t showing up, I turned toward the One who was waiting for me all along. The One who craves my mindfulness in the same way I crave it from others. That very mindfulness is what sustains us—it’s what keeps us alive and well.
We cannot allow ourselves to forget. Not the members of our village who are quietly struggling, and certainly not our Father in Heaven who longs for us to seek Him so that He may know us.
When we keep God in sight, He shapes our hearts, our decisions, and our resilience in ways we could never manage alone. Just as my early supporters encouraged me to keep going in a season of pain and suffering, God shows up to strengthen us. He reminds us to speak softly to our children, to deliver a meal to a weary friend, to rise again from heartbreak.
This is the gift of awareness: a life lived with eyes fixed on Him, where nothing is wasted and every moment can be redeemed.
Keeping God—and Each Other—in Sight
The absence of presence is only felt more deeply when the heart begins to drift. When we allow our brothers’ and sisters’ struggles to pass us by unnoticed, we also allow God’s presence to fade into the background of our own lives. Scripture calls us to something higher:
• “Carry each other’s burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ.” (Galatians 6:2)
• “Therefore encourage one another and build each other up, just as in fact you are doing.” (1 Thessalonians 5:11)
• “And let us consider how we may spur one another on toward love and good deeds, not giving up meeting together, … but encouraging one another—and all the more as you see the Day approaching.” (Hebrews 10:24–25)
God designed us for community. He never intended for us to bear the weight of this life alone. When we show up for one another, we are mirroring His faithfulness.
So, take a moment today to bring God back to the center of your life. Actively notice Him stirring in your heart. Allow Him to guide your steps toward what is good and right. If a loved one randomly comes to mind, don’t dismiss it—reach out. That prompting isn’t random. It’s His Spirit nudging you, because He knows they need you.
I know this because I have prayed that very prayer—that someone might think of me, reach out, remind me that I am seen and remembered by my community. That is the beauty of the Body of Christ: God uses us to reflect His love to one another.
Don’t let God become “out of sight, out of mind.” Keep Him close. Keep your people close. Let your life reflect His presence in every small act of mindfulness, because those little moments are how heaven touches earth.
Presence matters—His with us, and ours with each other.