You are.

Anxious soul, why do you fret?

Why do you toil and ponder?

Why do you produce doubt and worry?

Anxious thoughts, why do you run wild?

Why do you conjure up imaginations?

Why do you manufacture false realities?

On my own, anxiousness abounds.

Left to my on vices, worry dominates.

Holy Spirit! Be the blanket that snuffs this anxious unrest.

Engulf the flame of my imagination and breathe a new flame.

A flame of peace.

Soothe my anxious soul.

Tranquilize the destructive thought.

Speak truth into me.

Into your creation.

Truth of who You are.

Truth of what You are capable of.

No giant of my anxious imagination holds a candle to who You are.

You crush all foes.

You uproot all doubt.

You are.

You are.

You are everything that I need. Even that which I know not.


Before the need is made know.

You know because You are.

You are.

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Mage means magician, what a great way to describe the job of a momma! I’m just one momma making magic, juggling the business of life, trying to embolden other mommas along the way.

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