Window on the Week

🌞 The Lord had mercy on our seasonal depression this week and sent sunshine. I claimed the porch as my office for two whole days and began to feel human again.

💝 Related: I’ve had these overalls since the 90s because I struggle to get rid of items I love (and paid full price for.) Mostly this is a terrible condition to have but in the case of these overalls, my sentimentalism (hoarding) came in clutch.

📺 My husband and I finished ‘Better Call Saul” and now nothing else measures up. Bob Odenkirk and Rhea Seehorn, you have ruined us. Sometimes we don’t realize mediocre acting and contrived dialogue until we’ve experienced masterful performances. The good news: They’re filming the final season now. The bad news: It won’t air until 2022.

🎵 I busted out Taylor Swift’s “Lover” album this week and forgot how much I love it. (Perhaps because it came out in 2019 and reminds me of life pre-2020.)

💕 Now that my parents have gotten both vaccine shots and had their waiting period, I am beyond grateful to be able to safely see them again. Yesterday I met my mom at Panera and then helped her pick out some furnishings at Home Goods. Such regular things that now feel like the greatest gift! They lost a loved one (their third dear friend) to C*vid this week and it’s yet another reminder that we are not out of the woods. Far from it. Be safe, everyone. And let’s not stop praying for swift and efficient vaccine distribution.

📚 I’m reading The Soul of Shame: Retelling the Stories We Believe About Ourselves by @curt_thompson_md. This is a bold statement, considering the fact that I haven’t finished the book, but here it is: I think it’s going to be in the top 3 non-fiction books I’ve ever read. This is not a book to read lightly, nor is it quick. It will require your full focus. I’m reading a portion every day because it’s content you need to dive into and stay with until you’ve finished. I’ll say more and report back when I’m done.

😢 My oldest child turns 20 in a few days. I already have all the feelings about it.

Thanks to my friend @kimberlyacoyle for this Saturday invitation to share our #windowontheweek.

Window on the Week

For weeks I haven’t been able to piece together any meaningful words to share. I blame winter and a back injury that had me, well, on my back. (Anyone else feeling just a general February malaise?)

But my friend @kimberlyacoyle shared a #windowontheweek post and I thought to myself, “This I can do.” Here we go:

❤️ My husband ordered a giant monogram M filled with Valentine’s confections for me back in January. The January before we decided to go off sugar (among other things) for the month of February. Sometimes planning ahead isn’t the move. 😂

👟 He also took me surprise shopping for new running shoes today so I still feel like a winner.

📚 I’m currently reading Brave: A Teen Girl’s Guide to Beating Worry & Anxiety by @sissygoff. Even though I’m a mom to 3 teenagers, this book is actually helping me, a very grown woman. Her guide is helpful for anyone, not just girls, who struggle with worry and anxiety. I’m looking forward to passing this one along to my college daughter who is a Young Life leader for high school girls.

🎧 I’m listening to Will the Circle Be Unbroken?: A Memoir of Learning to Believe You’re Gonna Be Okay by Sean Dietrich (@seanofthesouth) and I already know it’s going to be a favorite for me. His southern drawl that beats all southern drawls makes the audio version an experience, let me tell you.

📺 Since Christmas my husband and I have been making our way through “Better Call Saul.” It’s slow and sneaky and has the best characters. A top TV show of all time for me.

🙏 I’m learning that much of my work these days happens in listening and in prayer. Gone are the days of cutting off sandwich crusts and sorting Legos, work that held a measure of control and predictability. These days I feel around in the dark and pray for a flicker of wisdom (and also for Jesus to just take the wheel already.)

How about you? Give me a window on your week. You can also share on IG using #windowontheweek.

Friday Introductions

Friday Introductions: Hi! I’m Marian and the natural state of my hair is a tad on the wild side. But you’re probably not here to learn about that. So here’s a little bit about me and what you’ll see in these squares:

💁🏻‍♀️ I’m a wife, mom, and communications director for a local non-profit. I’m also a writer, former American history professor, recovering overthinker, reluctant but happy small-town dweller, INFJ / Enneagram 4. I’ve been writing on the internet for 13 years now.

⭐️ Surprised by: How much I love being a mom to teenagers (we have 3.) My tendency to live beyond my limitations (despite learning the hard way 67,000 times.) How young I still feel on the inside (despite being middle-aged +.)

😍 Smitten with: words, beauty, young children, bougie (as the kids say) beverages, dessert, thrift stores, soft clothes, all things home, my husband of 25 years.

💝 Grateful for: Jesus, seasons, community, artists, that our nation’s history (and specifically racial injustice) is finally receiving the broader attention it deserves, the daily text message thread I have with my 3 younger siblings.

📝 A long time ago, I started a blog called “a la mode: a little scoop for every slice of life.” 13 years later, that still sums up what I share. Artful photos, thoughts on faith, motherhood, home, marriage, women’s work, struggle—all through the lens of “receiving your own life.” If there’s one thing I know, it’s that we can find peace and purpose right where we are. Even our most broken stories can shine with the beauty of redemption.

You can still find me at marianvischer.com. Most of my writing these days is shorter form and happens on Instagram.

I’m so glad you’re here! If you’re new, say hello, tell me about yourself, or feel free to ask a question! And thank you @emilypfreeman for sending some new folks my way this week. 🤍#fridayintroductions

Friday Introductions

😍 Smitten with: words, beauty, young children, bougie (as the kids say) beverages, dessert, thrift stores, soft clothes, all things home, my husband of 25 years.

You can still find me at marianvischer.com. Most of my writing these days is shorter form and happens on Instagram.

I’m so glad you’re here! If you’re new, say hello, tell me about yourself, or feel free to ask a question! And thank you @emilypfreeman for sending some new folks my way this week. #fridayintroductions

For the One Who’s in the Fog of Doubt

“Doubts come when what your mind knows becomes unreal to your heart because of the experience.” Tim Keller, “Praying Our Doubts”

Lately I’ve had a string of late-night conversations with someone I dearly love.

How do you know if _____?

What if God doesn’t do ______?

Is it still possible for _______?

Scenario-spinning, projection, loss, regret, fear and anxiety over the future, trusting God when the thing you most deeply want slips through your fingers like a vapor—these have been the dominant themes of our conversations.

We’re all wringing our hands over the future right now. Instead of bounding into a new year with energy and hope, we tread weary and hunched, walking into the fog of 2021 with cynicism, angst, and doubt.

If you’re one of those souls whose deep personal struggle mirrors our collective struggle, if you’re facing a personal crisis within a pandemical crisis, I’ll say to you what I say to myself and what I’ve said to my late-night friend:

Haul all of your fear, doubt, pain, loss, and complication into the presence of Christ.

When your right-now experiences threaten to unravel what you know is true, ask Jesus to clear out the thorny, overgrown path between your mind and your heart, to make the “crooked places straight and the rough places smooth” (Isaiah 40:4).

He not only bears witness to your pain, he invites his heavy-hearted and striving-sick children to come to him for help, for rest, for company and consolation. (Matthew 11:28-30)

God is always at work in a million ways, even when we can’t see it or touch it. If you’re feeling your way through the fog today, desperate for any sure thing to stand on, I offer this prayer:

“Jesus, you see me, you know me, and you love me. This hard chapter of my story is not simply a ‘lesson’ in patience or perseverance; it’s an opportunity to be loved. Help me to free fall into that love today. Remind me of the personal truth I need to know. When doubt disconnects my mind and heart, may your love and truth provide reconnection. You are Love incarnate and Truth Incarnate, never one without the other. ❤️ Amen.”

Recommended: “Praying Our Doubts” by Dr. Timothy Keller, a sermon

Debating America

I’ve been reading a lot of words that go like this:

“This isn’t who America is.”

“I can’t believe what I’m seeing.”

“What have we become?”

Simply put, we are who we have always been. Privilege and power have simply kept most of us comfortably ignorant. We haven’t had to reckon with the violent origins, practices, and realities of our nation because our lives did not require it.

Don’t believe me? Read history. Real history by real historians, not hobbyists or tv personalities or savvy young journalists or the influencer du jour.

I’m not trying to be elitist here. Rather, consider me passionate about truth and an honest historical record, someone who believes in learning and understanding as a path toward repentance and healing.

So if you’re struggling to understand “how it’s come to this,” I invite you to look back before you make assumptions about today or look toward the future. This is always in order if we’re to find healing.

And if you want to do the work of that, here are a few resources by folks who have either lived a history you haven’t or who have been properly trained in the careful craft of historical investigation.

There are myriad sources I could choose that uncover the backstories of our right-now issues. But these are a few from my own bookshelf, sources I’ve studied that unpack the tragic historical realities bearing fruit today.

Primary Sources (first-hand accounts and narratives):

–Narrative of the Life of Frederick Douglass by Frederick Douglass

–Incidents in the Life of a Slave Girl by Harriet A. Jacobs

–Secession Debated, edited by William W. Freehling and Craig M. Simpson (7 surviving speeches and public letters of the greatest southern debate over disunion)

Secondary sources:

–Stony the Road: Reconstruction, White Supremacy, and the Rise of Jim Crow by Henry Louis Gates, Jr.

–Ar’n’t I a Woman? Female Slaves in the Plantation South by Deborah Gray White

–The Slave’s Cause: A History of Abolition by Manisha Sinha (I am working my way through this one.)

If you’re looking for just one, go with Stony the Road.

Recommendations provided by fellow historians & learners:

– The Souls of Black Folk by W.E.B. DuBois

– Sojourner Truth by Nell Painter

– Race Rebels by Robin D.G. Kelley

– The Cross and the Lynching Tree by James Cone

Edited:

Questions from the comments on Instagram:

Yesterday was about us having been a nation that once allowed slavery?? In our past? It was the root of everything that is wrong with America, completely deligitimizes us from then onward? Our past curses us forever and we can never be redeemed? It would seem that anything we ever do then would never be enough to correct our past sins? Or do you have any idea of how we can repent for the sins of our forefathers? And did you recommend this reading bc it was tied to yesterday’s events? Trying to understand…..

My response (because it’s a valid and common question):

Great questions. I was writing in response to the many statements I’ve seen about yesterday’s events, such as: “this is not who we are” and “how has it come to this?” I’m simply trying to share how history has helped me in my own journey toward understanding that it hasn’t just recently “come to this.” This is part of our nation’s DNA. (White privilege & violence to maintain power and control.) I believe in naming our specific sins. This is true when I’m reconciling with my spouse, a child, or anyone I love. I believe this is true for us as a nation. The Bible provides examples of God holding families, groups, and nation’s corporately responsible for the sins of individuals. (Tim Keller wrote a helpful article on this: A Biblical Critique of Secular Justice and Critical Theory) As for how we do that, I appreciate what the book, Prophetic Lament: A Call for Justice in Troubled Times by Soong-Chan Rah, and How to Fight Racism: Courageous Christianity & the Journey Toward Racial Justice by Jemar Tisby.

A Christmas Message for the Weary Plate-Spinners

I grumbled not so under my breath as I scraped wilted bits of lettuce and bread crumbs from my freshly cleaned countertops. In theory, it’s the season of goodwill and giving. In my heart, not so much. Such is the life of a mother come holiday season. Even during a pandemic, the calendar somehow swells with busy-ness. New tasks materialize as soon as old ones are ticked off. And people still require dinner, even though it’s December.

By nature, I am a helper. I am empathetic and relational, but I don’t need to be needed, which may sound like a contradiction. I’m simply saying that if there are needs I can meet, I will. If someone in my midst is anxious, if there’s a problem I can fix or relief I can offer, I will gladly and instinctively do it. I will gladly and instinctively do it until I suddenly hit a wall from all the glad and instinctive doing of things.

In the last couple of weeks, I have repeatedly run up against the wall.

If you run a home, if you have a job, if you have a partner and / or children, each day can feel like being CEO of a Needs Factory. The holidays mean overtime but with no extra pay. Which means that on a December Tuesday, you may forget to pick up your youngest from school (hypothetically speaking, of course), a task you do every day without fail. You may forget the child because your brain is at capacity from All The Needs And Details Of Your Life And Everyone Else’s.

Unlike a real CEO, you cannot simply quit and walk away with a severance package. You have to keep showing up—remembering the appointments, fixing the meals, planning ahead, wiping the counters, spinning all the plates.

Sometimes we may technically keep the plates from breaking. But in the process, we break the hearts of those around us. As we survey the carnage of our loveless service, our own hearts break too.

On a crisp Sunday morning a couple of weeks ago, with our camping chairs perched atop dewy earth for outdoor church, it hit me that I wake up each morning as if on a throne, a sovereign who wants to rule over my own life and the lives of others. A VIP who wants to be served in ways that matter to me instead of serving in unseen, mundane ways. Enough with the daily tasks! Enough with the muck and mayhem of making a life!

As God opened my eyes to the condition of my heart, I was able to climb down from my throne and make amends with the people I live with before we ate Sunday lunch. Though I had met their physical needs during the week, I’d stomped on their hearts with my words and short temper in the process.

It is Christmas, the time of year Christians celebrate the unfathomable reality that a king left his throne to live among a needy people. A servant king who traded his royal robes for swaddling clothes. A humble king who folded himself into a mother’s womb and quietly entered the world to love us and to meet our ultimate needs. .

Christmas invites us to remember that the God of the universe came to unfold himself within us, to make us his home. By the power of his love and leading, we can let go and unfold ourselves into the lives of others, making a softer home in this world for those around us. He is the true gift that somehow keeps on giving through us.

From one weary soul living in a weary world to another, I want to remind you that visibility does not equal significance. Every counter you wipe, every dish you rinse, every word of consolation you offer, every meal you prepare, every ribbon you curl, every prayer you offer on behalf of another—it all matters.

We can continually serve and love because we were first served and loved by a king who stooped low and came to live among us, a fussy and desperate people whose needs never end.

As you unfold yourself into the daily lives of those you around you this Christmas week, may Christ himself bring you peace and perseverance.

He loves you.

And He loves through you.

Merry Christmas, friends.

“For you know the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, that though he was rich, yet for your sake he became poor, so that you through his poverty might become rich.” 2 Corinthians 8:9

When You’re Carrying Something That No One Can See: Christmas Hope for Weary Souls

…because what is conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit. ~ Matthew 1:20b

It was the second Sunday of Advent and these words leapt from the passage and lodged in my spirit.

I could not shake them.

As my children squirmed in their church seats and rifled through my bag for gum and pens, God whispered his attribute to my walled-off heart:

I am a God who conceives unthinkable things.

Within the virgin womb of an ordinary Jewish girl, the most divine alchemy swirled with light and life infused by the Holy Spirit.

It’s December. I am worn out and wrung out. God whispers truth about himself and about me:

Marian, I am a God who conceives things. This is not simply who I was at a single point in history. It is who I am and will always be. It is what I do within those who I have called for divine purposes. But you must yield to it.

I thought more closely about the order of things in Mary’s life, scribbling notes and arrows on my worship folder.

The Holy Spirit — > conception — > surrender — > carrying that which no one can see — > labor / pain — > new life — > death — > redemption

I whisper back:

God, what have you conceived in me that I have not yet surrendered to? In what ways must I yield?

And I know what it is. I know what I carry that no one can see.

I long to carry something different and God says no.

This is what I have conceived in you. Will you carry it? Will you labor under this burden and choose to receive it as a blessing? Will you trust that there is life and death and redemption on the other side?

As I write this post, my lip quivers. I do not want to say yes.

In his book, Ruthless Trust, Brennan Manning says this about people, pain, and purpose:

Anyone God uses significantly is always deeply wounded…On the last day, Jesus will look us over not for medals, diplomas, or honors, but for scars.

My view of humanity is limited; I can’t possibly match up each person that God has significantly used with a corresponding deep woundedness. But I know there is truth to what Manning says.

I know that God opposes the proud but gives grace to the humble. I know that pain humbles us and that wounds make us real.

I’m not looking to be a person of great significance in the kingdom of God. The older I get, the more uncomfortable I am with attention. But I long to be a meaningful part of God’s work here on earth. I don’t want my story, my labor, or my scars to be wasted.

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Mary didn’t have to say yes.

We’re not robots. God entrusts us with choices even within the mystery of sovereign will. He invited her to be part of his work and she said yes.

And aren’t we glad that she, like Jesus, yielded to her Father’s will instead of surrendering to her own rightful agenda?

Her yes gave birth to the light and life of the world. This is why we sing songs of rejoicing at Christmas.

A thrill of hope, the weary world rejoices.

We don’t rejoice because all is right with the world —

We don’t rejoice because life has gone as we’d hoped —

We don’t rejoice because we have a robust college fund for our kids —

We don’t rejoice because we have a marriage that’s easy —

We don’t rejoice because we have jobs that are well-paying and secure —

We rejoice because we are a weary and wounded people but we are not abandoned in this state.

Perhaps you’re carrying a hard and heavy thing you never asked to conceive, much less labor under.

But what if we see our heavy thing as a privilege instead of a weight?

What if we choose trusting instead of fighting?

What if we choose the mindset of freedom instead of bondage — freedom to die to our expectations and even our desires because we trust in a greater purpose?

Mary died to reputation, to convention, to logic, to self, to a comfortable path. She was forced to flee while pregnant and birthed her baby in a crude and humble dwelling. Her newborn child slept in a feeding trough for animals. Who would choose that?

No one.

But with a posture of humility and trust, she yielded to a divine purpose she couldn’t actually see. As she received the unthinkable realities of her own life, she simultaneously received the glorious hope that waited on the other side.

I am the Lord’s servant…may your word to me be fulfilled.

Death always precedes redemption.

Right now I’m wrestling with a sort of death, clenching tightly to fear, to desire, to doubt, and to my own logical solutions instead of placing my big self aside and submitting to the will of the Father.

If you’re in the same place, may the story of Christ comfort us and lead us as we wait for a miracle. May we receive our own lives with trust and hope this Christmas.

That which is conceived in you, though it feels unwelcome, may actually be destined for fullness of life.

You may also enjoy:

Why Compassion is the Answer to a Messy Christmas

Why You Really Are Prepared for Christmas, Even if You’re Not

The Key to Finding Peace and Purpose Right Where You Are (and a wearable reminder to receive your right-now life, even as you wait with hope)

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New here? I’m all about helping you recapture the possibility of your right-now life.

If that sounds like something you need, sign up in the box below to receive fresh hope and possibility delivered to your inbox.

The Key to Finding Peace and Purpose Right Where You Are

Is your right-now season one of struggle or overwhelm?

Are you in a place of upheaval or interruption?

Has God given you challenging or complicated people to love and serve?

Is your right-now work a far cry from your hoped-for work?

Always, you have a choice. Receive? Or refuse? Clench your fists? Or open your hands?

God meets you here, at the intersection of the right-now and the hoped-for. He has gifts for you unwrap, no matter how barren or chaotic things feel.

The gift of acceptance, which gives way to peace.
The gift of surrender, which gives way to trust.
The gift of laughter, which gives way to not taking yourself so seriously.
The gift of patience, which gives way to perseverance.
The gift of his presence, which gives way to joy and gratitude in the unlikeliest of circumstances.

But first, you have to receive. You have to relax your grip, give up your (illusion of) control, and let go of your agenda.

Receive your own life.

This is the key to living in the tension between your actual life and your hoped-for life.

Every choice to receive is a two-fold opportunity:

To reject your limited view of how life should go.

AND

To receive the grace and unexpected gifts that comes with surrender, trust, and hope.

I’ve lived through heartbreaking seasons where the unknowns stacked so high, I couldn’t see to take the next step. And I’ve lived through regular ol’ frustrating days of circumstances and people that conspired against my perfectly acceptable agenda.

Whether your current season feels broken in an extreme way or messy in a normal way, I’m learning (still) that “receiving your own life” is the key to finding peace and purpose right where you are.

I’m also learning that the broken stories we receive can one day shine with the beauty of redemption. (But that’s a message for another time.)

I’m offering a little something to wear as a reminder to receive.

I’m so happy to offer these hand-stamped key necklaces with the word “Receive.” A sweet reminder for you or for someone you love who’s in a season or situation of struggle, of waiting, of hopeful expectation. It could also be for someone struggling to receive a time of rest or respite. Pain isn’t the only thing we learn to receive. When life has brought long seasons of struggle, receiving blessing can feel counterintuitive, even wrong. In the same way we learn to receive the unwanted gifts, we must also learn to receive God’s heart of abundance for us.

Here are the details:

You can order by clicking this link.
Brass + hand-stamped + 14” drop / 2” key
Comes with a “Receive” printable so you can give the necklace as a gift without someone saying, “What a weird word to put on a necklace!”

Limited supply. Shop will be open through Monday, December 10th or until they’re sold.
$20 shipped

Thanks for embracing this message with and supporting this little holiday pop-up shop! Feel free to leave any questions in the comments section.

Get your receive necklace here.

Choosing Your Absence from Something You Love: 5 Things I’m Learning

Five posts into writing a blog series I loved in early 2018, “The Sacred Art of Receiving Your Right-Now Life,” I found myself drowning in a sea of very normal roles and responsibilities. I’ve been living out the message of that series in real time instead of writing it down and hitting the “publish” button like I’d planned.

There was nothing crisis-like or dramatic about any of it, only that all the things conspired against my writing all at the same time. Or at least that’s how it felt.

Married with three children
I have a job, but it’s not full time.
And because it’s not full-time, a year ago I also took on a couple of freelance jobs that became triple the work of what I expected. (Lesson learned.)
My kids were doing all of their kid things. Two of them are teenagers, which means there’s no end to the shenanigans (and maternal angst.)
From February until the end of school, I lived in constant stress. Then summer and working from home with kids. Bless it.
After nearly 20 years of teaching Economics to college students, my husband began a brand new career last August. We’re grateful and excited; it’s such a good fit for him. But it’s meant long hours, working on Saturdays, and yours truly filling in the gaps. It won’t always be like this, but building a business requires a great deal of heart and hustle (and uncertainty.)
Also? Our girl graduates from high school in less than 8 weeks, and this year has stretched each of us in ways we couldn’t have known ahead of time.

Guys, I’m tired.

But do you see what I mean? These are normal things, good things. Every role and responsibility I have means that I’ve been entrusted with gifts and people and opportunities to nurture and steward. But good things still come with hardship.

Which brings me to the first thing I’m learning during a season of living my stories instead of writing them down:

1. Too many good things at the same time are still too many things.

Sometimes we can’t help it. Sometimes we really are at the mercy of season and circumstance. But sometimes we let too many things in during a season that’s already sagging under the weight of all the good things.

Like a generous host throwing a grand party, we leave the door open and the lovely guests keep filing in, champagne glasses held high in celebration. Next thing you know, the floor has collapsed under the weight of this fine party. Here’s the part where I chuckle because this exact thing literally happened last year in the town where I live. It’s fine. No one was seriously injured. It’s a metaphor that works, is what I’m saying.

2. Life right now is much more about managing my energy than managing my time.

I’ve only fully realized this over the last several months and guys, it’s a game-changer. Busy as I am, I have actual time on my hands. We all do if we’re brutally honest. What I don’t have leftover is energy. And the things I really miss (like regular writing) require a mental and emotional energy that’s currently taken up by other required roles and responsibilities.

Once I realized this, I was able to let go of some of the guilt and striving, and replace it with grace and acceptance. I’m still sad about it. But all of my brain power and emotional reserves are currently spoken for. (See #4 if you want to know where it’s going.)

3. Structure is my friend.

A lot of us struggle with doing tasks that we don’t feel like doing. We procrastinate, distract ourselves, and make excuses. I have a friend who’s currently writing a book. As in, she’s under contract to write a book. One morning she texted me, “Haven’t gotten one word down on paper this morning but my hair and make-up look exceptionally good.” I laughed so hard because THIS IS WHAT WE DO.

And some of us struggle more than others. (Ahem, it’s me.) Add to this equation that I work mostly from home, which means it’s easy for work tasks and mom / wife / home / life tasks to bleed together into an existence where I always feel “on” and never “off.” My brain is in a constant state of whiplash from switching back and forth between vastly different roles and tasks.

“Enough,” I said to myself in January. “You are a grown-up and you can do this differently.”

Now I try to have three days a week when I work full-time and two days a week that are for my other “job,” the one where I plan the meals, get the groceries, run the errands, fill out the paperwork, email the teachers and coaches, decipher FAFSA forms, do the laundry, (take a nap,) etc.

We’re all different but my brain works better when it has a long runway in the same direction. I’m more efficient with the work I do for my job when my brain gets in that zone and can just stay there for hours. The same is true for domestic life. It only makes sense to structure life in accordance with how my brain works. It’s required all sorts of rearranging and it will never be a perfect system, but it’s given me a renewed sense of hope that I can get through this season with a measure of wholeness and stability.

I can’t stress enough that this doesn’t always work perfectly. The last few weeks my rhythms have been off and I’ve had to accept it. But each week I begin again and ask for grace. Always, I try to hold it loosely.

(If you’d like to learn more about this, I highly recommend this podcast episode by Emily P. Freeman: Design a Rhythm of Work — Theme Days!)

4. If you’re living in a pivotal life season, even one that’s not a crisis, it will take up more space in your head and heart than you realize.

No one can tell you what it’s like during the last year before your child becomes, in theory, an adult.

And just like that, the tears start flowing. (I was doing fine until now.)

I recently told a friend that I feel a low-grade sadness all the time. I miss this girl of mine already and she hasn’t even gone anywhere yet.

I think it’s because of this. When you hold that baby in your arms, 18 years feels like a very long time. It’s overwhelming, how long 18 years seems when you’re on the front end. But here we are. Though I hope and pray that our relationship will be always be close, that I’ll always be a trusted voice in her life, I know that most of the formative work is done. It is sobering beyond words, partly because I see all that I did wrong, all that I omitted, all that I didn’t know and now I do.

It’s also this. Senior year means we’re all living in the tension between a child still being under our roof and soon not being under our roof. Giving as much freedom as possible within boundaries is messy. It looks different for every child and it may exhaust you like nobody’s business.

Back in October, I drew up a “Senior Syllabus,” something we could all refer to throughout the twists and turns of this year. Sure, it’s been somewhat helpful but the truth is, there’s no real guidebook for this. We’re all simply making our way one day at a time. I pray a lot and I process it with a couple of trusted people in my life. I probably need to have a good cry or ten but I’m afraid that if I give myself permission to do that, I won’t crawl out of the corner for days.

5. Sometimes you have to choose your absence from the thing you love most.

Because there are people you love more.

For me, that thing has been my own writing. Again, it’s not that I don’t have leftover time. Monday I spent six hours of my day writing and editing content for my job. By 8 pm, I had no mental energy left, even though I didn’t go to bed for another two and a half hours. Sure, I could have come downstairs to my desk for personal writing time, but with what brain-power? (See point #2.)

Five-ish years ago I read a little book called Crazy Busy by Kevin DeYoung. He said many wise and timely things but here’s the phrase that’s stayed with me.

We must choose our absence, our inability, and our ignorance – and choose wisely. The sooner we embrace this finitude, the sooner we can be free.

In the last year, I’ve said no to speaking engagements that would have brought much personal joy and fulfillment. I said no to teaching a periodic class, even though I miss teaching and would have loved it. I turned down additional freelance work even though the money was good.

And I’ve said no to regular writing and publishing my own words, for now, because it requires energy and intention I need to save for other things. Yes, it’s life-giving and makes me feel most like myself. And yes, this joy has a way of spilling over into my everyday life. But I tend to run after this joy, this work of my heart, with too much gusto, leaving my people in the wake. Though I desperately want to learn how to curb my own ambition and enthusiasm, I’m not there yet. And this high-stakes season is simply too precious and fragile to risk.

Even though I have so much to share with you.

I’ve been storing up posts and ideas in very organized and professional ways–scattered Word docs on my computer, iPhone notes, even an entire book I’ve outlined in a spiral notebook. I started it two years ago and I keep scribbling in it. I also want to write about teenagers–about daughters and about sons. I want to write about acceptance, doubt, everyday faith, and how the life of Christ has everything to teach us about receiving our right-now lives, even as we wait with hope.

If you’re in a similar season of working, of waiting, of wondering if “your time” will ever come around, know that you’re in good company. And that company isn’t just me. It’s Jesus.

One of the things I’ve learned from studying his life is that God’s timing for our work is perfect, and that Christ himself is with us as we labor–whether it’s scrubbing the dishes (what I’m doing after I finish this,) helping with an overwhelming research paper on Macroeconomics and The Great Recession (what I’m doing after I finish the dishes #LordBeNear,) or being diligent in the work you’ve been paid to do (what I’m doing after I finish those other two things.)

As I labor in everyday ways, I invite Jesus, the one who filled the nets of his weary working friends with fish, helped them cook it up for breakfast, and then offered them a feast on the beach. This is his heart for us. He meets us as we struggle with discouragement, fatigue, and lack. He cares about all of our work, and delights to show up alongside us with compassion, grace, and sometimes a feast. (John 21:1-14)

Whatever season you’re in, I pray you will experience Christ’s presence with you, and know his heart of abundance for you.

Thanks for being here. (And for reading all the words. I sure know how to make up for lost time.)

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I do post on Instagram pretty regularly @marianvischer. It’s a little bit of personal life (think college visits + laughable school projects + how I redid my kitchen backsplash with stickers,) a little bit of writing, a little bit of everyday beauty. In the last year I’ve enjoyed writing a couple of series there.

10 Things to Tell You Series last September, hosted by Laura Tremaine. Here’s a link to the first post in that series.

12-Day Series with Hopewriters in January. Here’s a link to the first post in that series.

When I do publish here, or if you’d like to stay in the loop with news I only share with subscribers, sign up in the email box and you’ll be the first to know all the things. : )

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