Learning to be Here in the Now
Don't be absent from your life ...
From: Breathe Again, My Anxious Soul! Because Peace Is Possible and Hope Is Closer Than You Thought. (Ebook and audiobook versions)
Anxiety always wants to pull you somewhere else. It doesn’t wait politely. It grabs at your attention, tugs at your peace, and drags your thoughts into places you don’t want to go. Sometimes it pulls you forward—into the vast, unpredictable unknown of the future. Other times it throws you backward—replaying the past with a relentless loop of regrets and “what ifs.”
It tells you to hurry. To fix. To figure it out before it falls apart.
It says, “Don’t stop. Don’t slow down. Don’t breathe. You can’t afford to.”
And before you even realize it, you’re not where your feet are.
Your body may be in the room, but your mind is ten miles ahead or ten years behind.
You’re sitting at dinner but planning the next day.
You’re trying to sleep but reliving a conversation from three months ago.
You’re surrounded by people but feeling like you’re holding the weight of the world alone.
Your soul is tense. Your breath is shallow.
And your heart? Exhausted—from trying to be everywhere but here.
But what if the safety you’re chasing isn’t in the next solution?
What if peace doesn’t come after the next decision, the next fix, or the next perfectly worded prayer?
What if peace is not waiting for you in the future—because peace is already right here?
In this moment.
In this breath.
In this sacred pause.
There’s an invitation tucked inside a verse that has anchored countless anxious souls across generations.
Psalm 46:10 says, “Be still, and know that I am God.”
Not “be perfect.”
Not “be productive.”
Not “be strong enough to handle it all.”
Just… be still.
Stillness doesn’t come naturally in a world that applauds hustle.
We are praised for multitasking. For keeping busy. For staying ahead.
But stillness? That’s a different kind of strength.
It’s not passive.
It’s not lazy.
Stillness is trust in motion.
Stillness says:
“I choose to stop striving—even if the world keeps spinning.”
“I choose to be present—even if I’m uncomfortable.”
“I choose to be still—not because I’ve figured everything out, but because I trust the One who already has.”
When you practice stillness, you’re not ignoring your problems.
You’re refusing to let them drive.
You’re not pretending everything’s fine.
You’re simply anchoring yourself in something truer than fear—God’s presence in the present.
That’s what this chapter is about.
It’s about giving yourself permission to pause.
To stop managing, planning, fixing, and anticipating long enough to remember:
You are here. And so is God.
Here’s the truth: you can’t live in the past and the future at the same time.
But you can lose today trying.
You can miss the laughter. Miss the gentle breeze. Miss the warmth of the sun. Miss the peace that’s actually available to you—because your mind is busy rehearsing pain or bracing for problems.
So let today be different.
Let today be a beginning.
Not of perfection—but of presence.
Here’s a gentle practice to try:
Set a timer for just five minutes.
Turn off your phone. Find a quiet space.
Sit down, close your eyes, and place one hand on your heart and one on your stomach.
Breathe in slowly for four counts.
Hold for four.
Exhale for four.
And again.
And again.
Let your breath become your anchor.
Let it remind your body:
You are safe. You are here. You are held.
If your thoughts wander, that’s okay. Let them pass like clouds in a sky that doesn’t cling to them.
If anxiety tries to rise up and take control, gently notice it. And breathe again.
This is not about silencing your thoughts.
It’s about noticing them without letting them run your day.
And if you’re open to it, let this be your whispered prayer in the stillness:
“God, I’m here. And I want to meet You here too.”
Stillness may feel foreign at first. Maybe even a little scary.
That’s normal.
When you’ve lived on high alert for a long time, safety doesn’t feel familiar.
But don’t confuse unfamiliar with unsafe.
Stillness is where you reconnect with the truth of who you are—and the God who never left.
It’s in the quiet that you begin to feel your breath again.
It’s in the pause that you begin to recognize how tired you really are.
It’s in the stillness that you stop performing and start belonging.
Because here’s what anxiety never tells you:
You don’t have to earn the moment you’re in. You’re already worthy to live it.
You don’t need to perform your way into God’s peace.
You just need to slow down long enough to receive it.
This moment may not be perfect.
But it is sacred.
Because it’s the one where you stop rushing… and start returning.
And right here, in this breath, in this holy pause, God is not waiting for a better version of you.
He is already present with you—as you are.
Not when you feel strong.
Not when your thoughts are quiet.
Not when your problems are solved.
Now.
Here.
Let that be enough today.
So breathe again, my anxious soul.
You don’t have to run.
You don’t have to rush.
You don’t have to fix everything all at once.
You just have to be here.
And here is exactly where God meets you.
From: Breathe Again, My Anxious Soul! Because Peace Is Possible and Hope Is Closer Than You Thought. (Ebook and Audio Book versions)
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