Forever Fuchs

I get so damn tired of being told I don’t look like a “real Christian.”

Because I cuss.
Because I lose my s**t sometimes.
Because I’m loud, messy, emotional, sarcastic, and not wrapped up in a cute little beige Bible-verse bow.

Let me clear som**hing up.

God didn’t save me because I speak nicely.
He saved me because He knows my heart.

He sees the nights I cry in silence.
He sees the prayers I whisper when I’m exhausted, overwhelmed, and holding on by a thread.
He sees me loving my kids fiercely, trying again when I screw up, and choosing grace even when I don’t feel very holy.

Jesus didn’t hang out with the polished and perfect.
He sat with the broken, the loud, the doubters, the screw-ups.
So if my faith doesn’t fit neatly into your comfort zone, that’s okay — it was never meant to.

My relationship with God is not performative.
It’s personal.
It’s raw.
It’s real.

And if you think a few swear words cancel out a surrendered heart…
that says way more about your theology than my faith.

God knows me.
God holds me.
And I refuse to believe He’s offended by the very personality He gave me.

I’m not perfectly put together — I’m gracefully broken.
And last I checked, that’s exactly who grace is for.

That weird week between Christmas and New Year’s where time doesn’t exist.
Is it Tuesday? Saturday? 2007? Who the hell knows.

There’s no schedule. No rules. No bra.
Breakfast is vibes only.
Steak and vodka at 9am? Absolutely.
Leftover pie and cold coffee at noon? Still counts.
Charcuterie straight from the fridge like a raccoon? Michelin star behavior.

Kids are feral. Moms are exhausted.
Pajamas are formalwear.
Makeup is optional. Showers are a suggestion.

We’re all just out here free-ballin’ life until January shows up like,
“Alright, let’s talk about goals.”
No. Shut up. I’m still eating ham like it’s a personality trait.

This is the week we survive on vibes, leftovers, and ✨delusion✨
And honestly?
I don’t hate her.

Cuz they are perfect little Angels! 😇

Where are all my 80’s babies at!?! 🥰😎