Hey there, sweet mama friend.

What kind of mom are you?

I’m the kind of mom they might call a worry wart—especially here in the South. 😉

I spent much of my motherhood journey worrying about things that never happened.

Not to the point of never letting my kids leave the house or have fun, but I was definitely a bit of a helicopter mom.

When they were little, I worried about them getting hurt or not eating enough.

When they started school, I worried about bullying, getting kidnapped, or something happening to them when I wasn’t there.

In their teen years, I worried about their influences—what they watched, what they listened to, who they spent time with, peer pressure, and dating.

And now that they’re grown?

I worry about their hearts.

I want them to experience the beauty of a healthy marriage and the joy of raising a family.

But more than anything, I worry about their salvation.

I worry about whether they’ll make it to heaven.

And Mama, that kind of worry can become debilitating.

But here’s what I’ve had to learn:

I haven’t added one single day to my life by worrying about my children.

If anything, I’ve stolen precious moments of joy from myself—and sometimes from them—by carrying things I was never meant to carry.

Jesus asks us in Matthew 6:27:

“Can any one of you by worrying add a single hour to your life?”

The answer is no.

And I’m learning that the same is true when it comes to motherhood.

I used to believe that if I kept my children close enough, watched carefully enough, and worried hard enough, I could somehow protect them from everything that might hurt them—physically, emotionally, or spiritually.

Now that they’re grown and making their own decisions, some of which I don’t always agree with, I can see something I couldn’t see then:

All that worrying didn’t give me control. It only robbed me of peace.

I was right to be vigilant. I was right to pay attention to what was happening in their lives.

But I also wish I had allowed them to struggle a little more. To make mistakes. To figure some things out for themselves.

Because somewhere along the way, I forgot something important:

I was never meant to be their Savior.

That’s God’s job.

So if I could go back and tell the younger version of myself anything, it would be this:

Pray over your children.

Be aware of their influences.

Know what’s happening in their lives.

Protect them when you need to.

But then…

Give them to God.

They were His before they were ever ours.

He knows them better than we ever could and loves them more than we ever could. (I know that’s a hard pill to swallow, but it’s true.)

His plans are better than ours, and His ways are higher than ours.

That doesn’t mean our children won’t struggle.

It doesn’t mean they won’t make mistakes or walk through painful seasons.

And it certainly doesn’t mean we won’t worry sometimes.

But it does mean we can choose something different.

We can become warriors instead of worriers.

Not warriors who fight our children’s battles for them.

Not warriors who try to control every outcome.

But prayer warriors who fight on their knees.

Warriors who speak Scripture over their children.

Warriors who trust God when they can’t see what He’s doing.

Warriors who surrender what they cannot control and believe that God is still working…even when they can’t see it.

Because Mama, worry keeps us awake at night. Prayer puts us to work.

So breathe.

Pray for your children.
Love them deeply.
Stay vigilant.
And then place them back into the hands of the One who created them.

Never stop praying for their souls.

But remember: God is still on the throne.

He knows their hearts.
He hears your prayers.
He will never leave them or forsake them.

So let’s stop carrying what belongs to God.

Let’s be warriors, not worriers.

You don’t have to have everything under control.

You just have to know Who does.

You’ve got this…because God’s got you.

And He’s got your babies, too.

With love and prayers,

Traci