As I sit and watch my girls play in the water at our cabin, I can’t help but smile. Their laughter, their smiles, their pure JOY for the simplest of life’s pleasures- enjoying mother nature-is palpable.

But so is my anxiety. For every moment I’m watching them play, I fear it’s a moment that will too soon become a memory. An experience gone too quickly, for I so desperately want to keep them little. You see when I hear things such as, “I only have ____ summers left with my child at home,” I go into total panic mode. It simultaneously makes me want to do all the things with them but also just sit and do nothing except hold them. For time to just freeze and put all these big and little things on repeat. To not long for what’s to come, but rather take complete delight in the here and now, over and over and over.

But my anxiety is trying to rob me of this. Instead of just taking it all in, I’m afraid of letting it all go.

Instead of capturing the memories with my heart, I’m worried I won’t capture it all on the camera. Instead of praising God for the gifts of these children, I’m prepping myself for the feelings of sadness about something being over.

I know the Bible says to “cast all your anxieties on Him because He cares for you,” and I do. I share these fears and anxieties as they arise but as I continue to witness my daughters grow and change, almost daily it seems, I can’t help but hear the clock ticking on our time together. 

So what then? How do I snap myself out of it? How can I stop worrying about what I’ll miss when they’re gone when they’re right here with me? How can I allow myself to be more present and in tune with the moment, the feelings, the here and now, not the when and then?

Stillness.

Practice. Being. Still.

Practice being still for a moment. A moment to take it all in, one thing at a time.

The sounds. The smells. The sights.

The teeny tiny things I may have missed with a camera covering my view.

The big things that can elicit gratitude from watching them in their entirety, without distraction.

Practice. Being. Still.

Stillness calms the mind. 

Calms the body. Calms the soul. Calms the anxieties. 

Rather than feeding the fears, I’m quieting the noise that disrupts my ability to take it all in. To be present and grateful and joyful and at peace with the stage we’re in. 

Here and now.

Are my girls going to grow up? Yep. Am I going to have moments of sadness when I think about this? Definitely. Am I going to allow my time with them to continue to be robbed due to my sometimes “fear of the future” momma heart? 

No.

I can’t and I won’t. 

I will be still when I feel the fear coming. I will pause to not let the moment pass me by. I will take it all in. 

One child, one moment, one memory at a time. 

Because pure joy for another one of life’s simple pleasures—enjoying momma moments—is palpable too.