Present Moments

Yesterday is in the Past
Tomorrow is in the Future
Today is a Gift
Which is why it is called the Present

To be truly Present in any given moment, I must sacrifice one (or more) of my natural, but debilitating, human busyness, worry, frustration, guilt, envy, jealousy, fatigue...But in return, I am handed something Divine...a simple Gift that rejuvenates and energizes my soul.

When I strive to Be Present with my husband, or my child, or myself, or with any living creature, or with God...the possibilities are endless...and my heart sings as Potential soars.

Present Moments are truly a Gift.


June 11, 2012

While I was rushing around the kitchen (again) cooking dinner (again) the kids were supposed to be tidying up (again) and suddenly princesses in distress were screaming and clinging to my leg (again) because monsters were tormenting them (again)...and my blood pressure rose (yep...again). I made the frustration  find a hiding spot inside me for a moment. Then it almost exploded out when Cienna, who was sitting on the counter eating watermelon (again) screamed at the top of her lungs, "Guys!!"

Just before I launched an attack to stop the chaos (my plan was to out-shout the troops. Smart, eh?), I paused...but this time it wasn't to tuck the madness away. It was to notice the fairy tale unfolding right before my very 3D!

"You have to feed the monster watermelon if you don't want him to get you," Cienna boldly continued with the confidence of a well-experienced knight.

Kirsten and Allison stopped squirming between my legs and listened as if their lives depended on it.
Then they tested the watermelon theory.

Diggy smiled. So did I. I'm glad I didn't miss the climax.

And we ate dinner...happily ever after.

June 4, 2012

The lunch rush was over. I scurried around the kitchen sweeping up millions of crumbs with my mind wrapped around just as many racing thoughts. Laughter entered the open window. I stopped the broom and gazed out at all 6 of my children playing on the trampoline. The boys were perfecting kung fu moves (they don't take lessons) and bragged about their ability to defend the backyard. The girls sat around the edge cheering enthusiastically. Even little MaryAnn bobbed on Kirsten's lap, cooing along. My mind rested from all my motherly worries as their joy became my joy.

A few minutes later, I stopped the broom again. Most of the kids came swishing back to my side. At least two of them had something urgent to cry or whine about. But I was ready...full of love and waiting for their return.

June 3, 2012

Allison eyes drooped shut as we drove home from a Sunday evening meeting. Upon arriving in our driveway, I scooped her out of her car seat and carried her limp body to the bathroom. As I was lifting her back off the toilet, her grin caught my eye...and the game was on.

Instead of gentle silence during the journey to voice sang, "Let's get Allison in her PJs, so we can tuck her into her nice,warm bed." I carried her upside down. She tried not to giggle.

I flopped her onto her bed with her feet on her pillow and pulled the covers over her head. She lay in silence for several moments. Impressive. I pulled off the covers, wiggled her feet into pajamas, and tickled until the laughter came bursting out...all with her eyes never opening past a peeking squint. Allison wins.

Then after a proper tuck-in, I kissed her good-night and whispered, "I love you." As I turned to leave, she finally opened her eyes completely, called me back, kissed my cheek, and exclaimed, "I love you, too, Mommy!" I guess we both win.

May 30, 2012

As I wrestled with MaryAnn's diaper change on my bed, Kirsti came in and started endless questions about what was in the box on the top shelf of my closet (where I usually keep my stash of future birthday presents). I half-attempted to dodge 5 or 6 or maybe 11 questions, but she successfully pulled bits of information out of my weary mind to keep the interrogation going..."It's not contains old craft stuff...not today...I don't know when..."

"Yes," I finally consented because when I turned to face her as she dragged a chair across the floor, I melted in her felt refreshing.

With the contents spread all over my floor, more questions came and the reminiscing began..."This came from Cristi Buffenbarger...the nice, single lady from church who died of cancer over a year ago...Dad spoke at her funeral...She was getting rid of stuff before she passed away...She thought you guys would like painting these things...Yes,remember when she invited us to her house for a family night...?"

And every child remembered all the details of her well-prepared lesson on Daniel and the Lions' den.

Thank you for the crafts, Cristi. I was saving them for a special occasion...and it was.
Your legacy lives a few things to paint for a few minutes...and in the hearts and minds of my children...probably forever. And remembering you today gave me an extra surge of energy.

May 29, 2012

I rushed around the kitchen preparing dinner as usual. MaryAnn clung to my leg (because she can get herself to where she wants to be now), so I scooped her up and prepared ingredients one-and-a-half-handed. As I shuffled through the fridge, I paused...and noticed MaryAnn's fascination with the sliding door on the "beverage chiller" (I think it's supposed to be a compartment on our fridge door to keep wine cool...but we don't drink wine, so it houses our ice cream toppings). Her wide eyes bulged with intense focus upon finding something that opens and closes. I helped her, close, open, close, open, touch the chocolate syrup, close. When she heard the slight squeaking noise of the door after several attempts, she paused and chirped in response. Warmth filled my insides as cold air leaked out into the kitchen.

May 28, 2012

I knelt hunched over the side of my bed this morning, saying my morning prayers. I soon became aware of MaryAnn edging her way to me from her sleeping spot in the middle of our bed. She celebrated her successful journey by wriggling her little body on top of my bowed head, patting my back with her baby hands and breathing cheers of delight. When she rested for a moment...her body sprawled over the top of mine, I paused my heavenward thoughts and listened to her strong heart beat. I thanked my Heavenly Father for letting me care for His sweet little girl. Then I opened my eyes, smiled at MaryAnn, and scooped her into my arms.

Share your Present Moments. Leave a comment or send them here: smithmoments*at*gmail*dot*com

© 2007-2013 Amy K. Smith -

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