A week ago the Facebook page for my blog sent my an automated email that said, “Marian Vischer your fans are missing you.” I died laughing because a} Fans? 2} I doubt it. 3} I’ve got bigger concerns.

But it was a subtle jab to the gut that life is too chaotic to write {which makes me angsty} and also that I really can’t do anything much about the writing and the “fans” and whatnot.

Let’s just say that summer has thrown me a few curve balls and that one day last week I ate McDonalds for lunch and Chick Fil A for dinner. My kids would call that a win. I call it pathetic. And also kind of gross.

Right now I’m surviving on steady doses of grace, a tolerant and loving husband, too much screen time for my children, stellar headache medicine, and an arsenal of essential oils. {I’m hunkered down at my desk as I type this with the door locked and a diffuser that’s wafting lavender into the air. Thank you Jesus.}

Ben and Jerry have also been loyal companions.

I can’t exercise. {Because my gym membership expired and I haven’t been able to run since March because my back is dumb and old and still injured and that means I’m in physical therapy.}

My eye is twitching. {Stress.}

The Lounge finally had to be hauled off to charity. {Yes, we’re grieving.}

Life transition stuff is on the horizon. {I’ll tell you about it later.}

And there’s this unexplainable itching when I feel stressed and ruminating thoughts that I have inflamed skin patches growing tentacles. I so wish I was joking about that one.  {#marianiscrazy}

Worst of all, my friend’s cancer is back which makes me want to kick all of the walls in my house and cry when I’m in the shower and when I’m sitting on the floor of my boys’ room as we pray for her healing and I attempt to answer their questions that are still actually my own questions too.

I wish I could tell you I’m coping with All Of The Things by reading my Bible at 5am for two hours and praying without ceasing. There’s a little bit of that…but a whole lot more pretend online shopping.

In all of the unexpectedness and uncertainty, in the little stresses and the big sufferings, I’m reminded that control is an illusion and trust is a choice.

I cling to God’s sovereignty and love.

I rest — or attempt to rest — {which sounds like an oxymoron} in His faithful and undeniable promises.

This summer there seems to be one message ringing loud and clear above all others. God covenanted long ago to keep his promises to his people despite their weakness, waywardness, unbelief, and outright rebellion. He said He’d be with them in the chaos and trouble, in the good news and the bad news, in the times of obvious blessing and the times of obvious suffering. He promised to love them with an everlasting love.

He promised redemption.

He has proven, time and time again, that it’s about his faithfulness and not ours. I mean, let’s be honest, in whose track record of righteousness would you rather place your hope? Yours or God’s?

It’s times like this summer — times when I’m swimming in stress and flailing about like a fool — when I am painfully aware of my inability, idolatry, immaturity, inconsistency, and idiocy. And it’s times like these when all I can do is fall on my face and cry, Jesus please help me. I can’t bring anything to the table right now but weakness, neediness, hormonal imbalance, and repentance.

But the good news {that I still struggle to believe} is that it’s okay. It’s actually enough. Why? Because He’s enough and that frees me up not to be.

Not in the “Oh, I’m just going to embrace all of my sucky-ness so that grace may abound” but in the “Quit striving and accept where you are today and rest in the unbelievable enough-ness of Christ.”

This is the Gospel.

Jesus didn’t come for those who are well. He came for those who are sick and weak and in need of healing. I don’t have to get it together first. He makes me worthy because He was counted worthy for me. He calms my anxious heart because He is Peace incarnate and He lives in me…even when I am spewing short-tempered ugliness at my hyperactive children who could use a bit more structure this summer.

He reminds me of his promises in myriad ways, even on the days when the only spiritual effort I can muster is the two-word prayer, Help me.

Maybe your summer has been pool and beach and fruity drinks with umbrellas. Or maybe it’s been a little bit okay and a whole lot cuckoo. {Like mine.}

If you are in Christ, you can rest. You can free-fall into the arms of Jesus who is enough for you and for me and for this great big groaning world. 

And you can also go to McDonald’s and Chick Fil A in the same day.

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