Are they getting your best?

I sat with a friend recently who was frustrated with himself. His wife had asked him a question a few weeks back that he had no answer for.

One of their kids had been a little off recently and she wanted to know his perspective on what was happening. He had nothing.

“Of course I love my son,” he told me. “I'd step in front of a truck for him. And I couldn't answer a basic question about his inner life because I hadn't actually been paying attention. It’s been one of those seasons at work and I lost track of what was happening at home.”

This, my friends, is what relational drift looks like. It happens with your kids, with your spouse, with your friends. We’ve all been there.

We often think of it as some dramatic situation. A big fight, betrayal, crisis. But the reality is it just looks like a slow decline. Pursuit becomes maintenance. Real conversations shrink to logistics. You stop being a participant in their life and become, at best, a casual observer.

I think relational drift is the most invisible of the five. You can sit on the same couch and be miles away. You can sleep next to your wife and not actually know what she's been carrying for six months. You can love your kids deeply and still be the dad they don't bring the hard stuff to.

The question that cuts through it is the same one we asked about health, just turned outward. Are the people who matter most getting your best, or your leftovers?

Your wife. After the meeting, the email, the workout, the scroll, the kids, the dog. What's actually left when she finally gets you? Is she getting an intentional man, or the guy running on fumes?

Your kids. Do they get the version of you that gets quiet when they talk, or the one half-listening on the way to the next thing? Have they learned to take the hard stuff somewhere else because dad's always tired or distracted on his phone?

Your friends. The Survey Center on American Life found that the number of men with no close friends has gone up five times since 1990. That’s actually insane. Nobody set out for that. We just stopped reaching out, kept saying "we should grab coffee," and woke up forty-five with a wife, three kids, a full calendar, and nobody on the other end of the phone when life got hard.

Here’s where it comes down to for me: how would those closest to me describe me? Present, engaged, intentional, alive? Or just kind of… there.

The Challenge

Three names. Write them down.

Your wife (or someone in that lane if you're not married). One of your kids (skip if not applicable). One man you'd call a real friend, or wish you could.

For each one, answer a single question: when was the last time you actually pursued them? Not maintained. Not checked the box. Pursued. Asked something real. Made the first move. Showed up without being asked.

Pick the one with the most cobwebs. Do the smallest version of pursuit this week. Take your wife on a walk with no phones. Take your kid out to get ice cream and just be present. Text the friend and put a time on the calendar, not "we should hang soon."

My biggest advice: as with your health, schedule time for the people who matter most. If you don’t, they will inevitably get pushed to the side because you’ll “eventually” get to it.

Today is all you have. Own what's now.

Live above the line.
For you, Kevin

Thanks for reading this. Share it with anybody you think would find it useful. And as a reminder, NO DRIFT is not mine it is ours. I want to know what you think, what you want to hear about, what you are learning. All feedback is welcomed.