Everything about a new year gets me excited.  It's clean, fresh, motivating, and just so full of potential.  And if my word in 2014 was brave (something that has actually become more of a life word than a year word), I think for sure that my word for 2015 is simple.  Not to be mistaken for easy, lack-luster, laid-back, or even lazy.  Just simple: a clear vision for God's purposes, little time for the things I can't take with me to heaven, a house full of love and not things, and joy because Jesus already won- do we really need a reason other than that?

In the spirit of simple, I am doing my best to walk in to 2015 with a less and more heart:

More Jesus, lipstick, phone-free time, date nights, books, spinach, and Spanish lessons.

Less facebook, self-justification, comparison, and peanut m+m's.     

And that's really it.  More of Him, less of me.  That's always been the equation. 

Cheers, 2015!  Waiting with anticipation for what you have in store. 

typical Blackburn family picture- but Harper is smiling, so that's a win

I love everything about a new year.  I think it is the same quirk that makes me buy new journals and new pens every third trip to Target that also gives me a giddy feeling over a blank calendar.  Just the idea of fresh starts carries with it some sort of magic that makes my dreams bigger.  But, before I jump in to all the things I hope the new year has in store, I want to remember this year and the grace weaved through every piece of it. 

I have always loved the Israelite practice in the old testament of building an altar of remembrance when God showed up for them.  It strengthened their faith and left reminders for the generation following behind that God has been there before, he will be there again.  In some ways, a look back at this sweet year is my altar, an offering of gratitude for the things only He can do.

winter

We spent Christmas at my parents’ home in California and had just found out a baby boy would be joining our crew in May.  Then right after the new year, we went to the ocean, to my favorite spot on earth, a little pocket of soft white sand and steep cliffs.  We threw Harper in their air and took a million pictures and remembered that there is nothing too broken for God to fix.

In February I flew to Santa Barbara for the IF: Gathering at my best friend, Kristin’s, house.  We prayed on the beach, had omelets at Jeannine’s, went home and ate hummus and pita chips, then curled up with warm blankets and journals and listened to life-changing words.  And I spent at least half of the free minutes of the weekend talking to Leah, a sweet connection of a friend through Kristin.  Leah is hands down one of the most gentle souls on earth, and she is crazy brave.  Her stories of bringing light to the dark, dark world of the sex industry inspired me as much as any Christine Caine or Jen Hatmaker talk, and I came home changed, inspired, so ready to do something in large part because of conversations with her.

spring

I met Kelly and Ashlee, two women who had their own IF: Gathering experiences here in Spokane and wanted to bring the event to our home church.  A team of seven of us grew out of that, and these women became mentors, sisters, and friends for a lifetime.

Cannon Lee joined our family on May 9th, and it was the sweetest labor and delivery I could have hoped for.  But what might have been the best memory for me is when I called Emily at 11:00 in the morning and told her I was heading to the hospital.  She hung up the phone, called back ten minutes later and said, “the kids and I are on our way, you tell Cannon he better wait for me!”  Emily walked in to the delivery room at 5:00pm, a four hour road trip with three kids under five behind her.  Sometimes- all the time, really- I can’t even believe God gave me the friends that he did.

Summer

This past summer will forever be remembered as the summer at the lake.  My college mentor, Fro, spent four days with us at Em’s parents’ home on Newman Lake, something he does every year.  These days are always some of my favorites.  We eat and laugh, eat and laugh some more.  And my parents moved in to their home on Liberty Lake, where Harper quickly got over her fear of the water and we spent lots of hours on the paddle boards getting sun kissed shoulders.  The lavish blessing of being in homes on the lake is not lost on me.

Alex and I celebrated our third anniversary in August, and I think somewhere around the time the mornings got cool enough to welcome the fall, I started to get a hang of this two-kid gig.  Not that I have it down, but I stopped feeling like I couldn’t function without another pair of hands around (i.e. Daddy).

Fall

Kristin and I both felt like God was bringing our love of writing in new directions, so she is living in to her gift of teaching the bible at alive + active, and I started putting my words here, on just enough brave.  And because of the way my best friends modeled the need for Jesus every single day, a new morning routine was born in the Blackburn house: 5:15 alarm, coffee, bible.  Every day.  Three months of this has been the difference between me loving the word brave and me believing in the word brave.

We traveled to Arizona for my brother’s wedding and decided to not bring Harper on another airplane until she is seven.  Cannon and I went to Santa Barbara in October and got to meet Ryen Kate, the sweetest, cutest little blue-eyed girl in the world.  Alex plugged away at his last semester of nursing school and I taught two night classes, something I love doing with all of my heart. 

Thanksgiving, graduation, and Christmas have come and gone now, and like many moms at this time of the year, I am purging our home because I absolutely cannot feel ready for a new year unless my house is de-cluttered.  Alex and I are dreaming and setting goals for 2015 now, and we are beyond excited for what is on the horizon. 

Of course along with all of days that marked our calendar, this last year brought with it so many lessons, dozens of sweet coffee dates, lots of great dinners with friends, many beautiful books read, the most humbling of parenting moments, and no shortage of need for forgiveness, too.  This year has been a faith-changing one for me, something I want more than anything to live in step with in the days to come.  And one other big thing happened this year: my friends told me I should keep writing.  You will never know how much of an impact your encouragement has been.

I sit here with so much gratitude today, because our lives have been filled with goodness more than we deserve.  Looking back is so good for the soul.  There is no way to make sense of our stories except to believe that they are part of a bigger one, and that is the most comforting thing to take with us into a new year. 

I woke up last weekend channeling my best Princess Anna with "It's graduation day!  It's graduation day!"

"Blessings won by prayer should be dedicated to God, as Hannah dedicated Samuel.  The gift came form heaven- let it go to heaven.  Prayer brought it, gratitude sang over it, let devotion consecrate it.  Each blessing provides a special opportunity to pray, 'We have given you only what comes from your hand.' (1 Chronicles 29:14)'." 
-Charles Spurgeon

For the first time in our marriage, my husband will go to bed and wake up this weekend with no homework, no looming paper deadlines, no clinical hours to prepare for.  He will read non-school related books, spend hours in Bible commentaries (yes, he loves it) and not feel guilty about it.  Alex graduated from nursing school this week, and our little family could not be prouder.

We've taken a bit of an unconventional road over the past four years, and I can tell you looking back on it all, it only makes sense because of God.  Alex started school in January of 2011, we got married in August, had Harper in December 2012 (oops!), and then in June of 2013 I decided I wanted to be a stay-at-home-mom, because it made perfect sense to have one student and one unemployed adult heading up our household, right?  We made approximately 375 budget spreadsheets to see how we could make it work financially while Alex applied for every scholarship he could find.  Let me tell you, not much works financially on a GI Bill housing allowance.  But then Alex got grant money, financial aid, and a Nurse Corps scholarship to complement the GI Bill and just like that, we had enough to make it each month.  And then I was offered a few teaching jobs and a part-time job at our church, and Alex worked landscaping jobs and YMCA jobs and, despite my trepidation and "I think God would understand there is barely enough in the account for this!" statements, he never, not for one month, did not make us tithe whatever money we brought in- something we believe to our toes is the answer to financial provision even in the smallest forms.  Cannon joined us this May (not an oops!) and here we are, at the end of this crazy how are we going to do this season, not one penny of student loans waiting for us.  (Lest I paint this picture that we have navigated this season perfectly, I feel the need to assure you there have been no shortage of marital throw-downs over time and money management, and plenty of days of doubting God at every turn.  We are more than certain that provision has nothing to do with our merit and everything to do with his).

If we were to write down the financial debits and credits of the last few years, I'm actually not sure it would even make sense.  God's provision has truly defied math.  Our community has blessed us in every way with kids' clothing, baby gear, even a whole month of meals after Cannon was born.  We have seen Jesus in tangible ways through our people, and it has been such a gift.  

And my husband, I don't even know where to begin with him!  He's the hardest worker I know.  He has spent more late nights under the dim lighting of our kitchen table with books open than I can count.  Nursing school is no joke, but he believed that God gave him a desire for this career that served others, and he never wavered from that.  Alex and I are both learners, and to be honest, would probably prefer to be poor students than rich employees if we could have it that way.  Alas, the bills must be paid and children must be fed, and we should probably start contributing to that retirement plan again, but this season has been sweet in a million ways and I think we are both a little bit sad to see it go.  (Temporarily, that is- we both have plans for more school should God open that door for us!)

For now, we are going to soak up a few weeks of vacation and Holiday celebration before Alex takes the NCLEX (nursing license exam) and starts working at his new job at a community health clinic in West Central Spokane mid-January.  It feels like the end of something beautiful and the start of something exciting all at once around here.  But gosh, I am so, so proud to call this man my husband, to know this is who Harper and Cannon get to look up to.   

God is good friends, and he knows what we need even before we ask for it.  If there is anything Alex and I have learned in our marriage it is that He is the gift, not his provision or his blessings or his gifts of intellect or a college degree.  Everything he gives us is an arrow straight to him, so that we can look up and know He is able, every time.    

Shayla, my talented designing friend, and I sat at Starbucks this week, talking about the Giving Shop and dreaming up ideas for what could, should, might come next.  Just a month ago, I put an idea out there in the world that I hoped would do two things: raise awareness and money for a cause I believe in with all of my heart, and encourage people to be brave.  Friends, I think both of those things are starting.  In the short four weeks that the Giving Shop has been open, we have raised enough money for two years worth of school supplies to support a young women who has gotten out of sex trafficking and is learning a new, dignifying trade.  And, there are well over a hundred brave cards out there in the world, which I pray are encouraging people in perfect, God-ordained moments, putting scripture in front of eyes that need to remember our bravery really comes from there, from God’s beautiful word.

This morning, I had the sweet privilege of sharing about bravery and the idea of the Giving Shop at a local Mom’s Morning Out group.  I was unbelievably humbled by the response and encouragement of this crew of women- it affirmed what I believe so strongly: if you will be brave, I will be brave, too.  We share so many of the same fears, but I know a brave soul lies deep in all of us, longing to live out a faith that believes in a God who is able.      

And now, we’ve got fun dreams and plans for the Giving Shop in 2015: a few changes to the current card sets, more card designs, coffee mugs, and journals (because these are a few of my favorite things).  And like always, you give twice when you buy them, as all profits will always be given away.

The thing that makes me smile and feel the most excited about all of this is that we are doing something together, something that I couldn’t do alone.  You are giving your support and it is adding up to much more than I could simply give.  You are encouraging your people and spreading bravery in ways only you can do.  This is small, this little dream, but it’s something, and I’m so grateful that in a teensy tiny way, we get to do something together. 

Brave begets brave, as Annie Downs would say.  So let’s keep spreading the brave, friends.  We’ve got kingdom work to do and a Holy Spirit all too willing and ready to do it with us.

From now until Christmas Eve, as we celebrate the God who came to be with us, use the discount code IMMANUEL for 10% off your order of Brave cards. 

On December 6, 2012, after 16 hours of labor, Harper Kristin was laid on my chest for the first time.  It is actually hard to remember life before that moment, because she changed everything for me and her dad.  This little girl is strong, independent, funny, and a bit sassy.  She pushes boundaries but knows how to say sorry.  And she talks, all the time, narrating life the way her little mind sees it happen.  My favorite Harper phrases are: "Check this out, guys." "Oh my goodness!" and "That's incredible."  She counts to ten in English and to five in Spanish, and she is fully bilingual with her colors.  I wish I could say this gift of language is because we never watch television and have been reading her baby Einstein since she was in the womb but alas, neither of those things are true so it must just be the way God made her.

Every single day for the past two years, I have thought about who my little girl will become.  There are so many things she can pursue, so many dreams God will plant in her heart, and so many roads she can take in this life.  But what I pray for daily is that Harper loves Jesus, has a kind heart toward others, loves learning, and seeks justice.  That's really it.  Whether she runs a bank or cuts hair or teaches children or whatever she does in this life, we hope that she "does everything in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through him." Amen, let it be so.  

We have a whole lot of celebrating to do this month: a big girl's second birthday, an amazing man's graduation, the visits from out of town family and friends, and of course, the best of all, Christmas itself.  As poor of a party planner as I am, we've got this whole celebrating thing lined up and dialed in this month.  But what I am sure I need to be a lot more intentional about: celebrating someone else.

In my advent study, we have been reading the prophet of Malachi- beautiful scripture foretelling the very holiday we elaborately celebrate with trees and stockings and all things green, red, gold, and silver.  In this book, the Lord tells us about the coming Savior, about a prophet that will come before him, and that for those who believe, we shall go out leaping like calves from the stall: with the glee and joy and carefree spirit of unbounded, pure freedom.  Wow.  To live a life with that kind of joy, what a gift to the world.

As I roll these words around in my heart, I cannot help but think that I can celebrate my life, my blessings, my family with great consistency.  I can humble-brag on this blog or social media, and I can rally likes and comments and take great pleasure in a day where I have been affirmed, encouraged, and cheered on.  In a me-centered world, I want my parties well attended.  But this world is not about me.  At the center of it all is Jesus, who has given us the grace to live in pure freedom, in joy.  And I think the kind of joy he desires for us makes a big deal of him and big deal of other people.  It celebrates other people.  The joy of a life surrendered to Jesus leaves judgment up to him, freeing me up to love, to say "I'm so happy for you... your pregnancy, your new home, your vacation, your promotion, your new business, your accomplishment..."  Joy cannot keep score, because it is lost in the celebration, in the dance and in the music of the party I am so lucky to attend.  

It gets so dang exhausting rallying cheers for myself, and I think God rigged the system that way.  When we lose our life, we find it... when we can put aside the me, me, me, look at me! life, all of sudden we get both: the joy of celebrating others and the blessing of others celebrating us.  With Christ's birth, life, death, and resurrection, he freed us up to not have to think too much about ourselves, to not have to manage the anxiety of constantly wondering "do they like me? do they see me? am I ok?"  The God of the universe sent Jesus, and "all the promises of God find their YES in him.  That is why it is through him that we utter our Amen to God for his glory."*  (Are you fist-pumping or what?!)  YES, to every question about my identity, my worth, my salvation, my security in Christ and the promise of his return.  Yes.  I am choosing to believe this, because I know that when I don't, when I hustle for approval, it leaves me empty every time.  So let's go give away joy, love, celebration because we will never run out of it in Jesus.          

*2 Corinthians 1:20

With the turn of the calendar to December 1st, I wonder if other moms feel like me in that there is a teensy tiny bit of pressure to do something cute with our kids every day.  And by teensy tiny, I mean a lot.  My friends are instgramming their adorable craft projects, sharing on facebook beautiful family traditions, and talking about their Elf of the Shelf stories from years prior.  And those Pinterest searches- well those will just about kill a girl, so I've abandoned them for now.  Still, I do have a daughter who is starting to get it, that this season is wonderfully different from every other month of the year, that there is something coming worth decorating and planning and being excited for.

And yes, there is something coming.  That's what the word advent means: coming.  And the setting apart of these December days in special and meaningful ways has always been to prepare our hearts and minds for His coming, our Savior, our Jesus.  

Something has changed in my heart now that I have little minds that I want so, so desperately to understand the magnitude of Christ's first coming, and it is this: I want so, so desperately to understand it myself.  I want to feel the weight of Jesus' humble birth with all the anticipation of a nation of Jews who knew that they knew that they knew a Messiah was their only hope, coupled with the confidence of an age of believers who know that they know that they know He did come, and he did the work of redemption God gave him to do on our behalf.  Because we have that precious gift of hindsight in our generation, we should be longing with even more desire for Christ to come again, for "the sun of righteousness that shall rise with healing in its wings" (Mal 4:2).  

In Mark 9, a distraught father comes to Jesus on behalf of his young son, who needs the healing only the power of Christ can give him.  He says this to Jesus: "But if you can do anything, have compassion on us and help us."  Jesus responded with the implication that it isn't even a question, "If I can?!"  Of course he can.  He is 'I Am.'  He can, he can, he can.  He adds this to the father, "All things are possible for the one who believes."  And the man's response has become the most desperate cry of my own heart: "I believe; help my unbelief!"    

Help me to get this, God, not merely on the level of memorization or the backings of intellectually sound theology, but in the mystery, in the same way that the angels long to look into this, help my unbelief!  As we wait for your advent, may every story and every craft and every song and every chocolate candy only point our eyes to the horizon, where we look longingly for that sun of righteousness.  May our journey through December be a heart surrender to the most beautiful gift the world will ever know, the presence of glory in the body of a man.  As I talk my children through the things my mind knows so well, will you captivate my heart in the process.  Make this advent truly about yours.  Amen.         

"Piglet noticed that though he had a very small heart,
it could hold a rather large amount of gratitude."
-Winnie the Pooh

Thanksgiving. I love this season, this holiday, this special moment in life set apart to simply be thankful.  I love it so much I refuse to put Christmas decorations out until Friday, because as beautiful as the shimmer and lights are, I don't want to look past this day, this time to be overwhelmingly grateful: exactly what I feel.  Thank you, sweet Jesus, for my man, my babes, my people, the Northwest summers, writing, cold brew, and smiles.  You didn't have to give human kind smiles, but I'm so glad you did. Happy Thanksgiving, y'all.

It's Monday morning, and I'm in a coffee shop (with a fireplace!), my Bible and journal, a salted caramel latte, and the computer.  And I'm alone.  No diaper bag or stroller or toddler in tow.  It has been months since I've done this. 

It's glorious.

We just turned the corner in our house from a three-day bout with an ugly stomach flu for my little girl.  Poor thing had sickness coming out both ends of her body for three straight days.  So we watched Frozen three hundred times, Dora at least a thousand, and I did laundry.  All day long, laundry, laundry, and another load of laundry.  The highlight of the three days came when I was nursing Cannon and Harper started whining like she was going to throw up again, so she came over to me for help just in time to vomit on both me and her little brother.  More laundry, showers for all, a whole can of Lysol.  And fresh scentsy in the warmer.  The dog days of motherhood, or something like that, is what I would call it. 

But here, early in the morning at the start of Thanksgiving week, I feel a million miles away from a sick child and endless echoes of "Let it go!" in the background.  I feel like I did in graduate school, when all I grabbed as I walked out the door was my purse.  I sat in coffee shops for hours on end.  I met anyone at anytime, free to come, go, stay, leave, whatever I needed or wanted or could fit into my own dreams.  I loved that sweet season.  And as I sit here, by myself, thinking, reading, and writing the things I want to, I miss that time.  I just scrubbed vomit off of furniture and sheets and kitchen floors for three days.  Of course I miss that time.

But when I was in it, when I was twenty-three, I longed for THIS, exactly what I have right now.  A husband, a home, and arms full of babies.  I went to wedding after wedding wanting so desperately for it to be my turn.  I aspired to many things, but none more than wife and mom.  And now, those titles are mine.  God graciously gave them to me, even though I can say with full assurance I don't deserve them.  Not a day goes by that I am not overflowing with gratitude for the sweet baby cheeks that I kiss a hundred times each morning, or the husband who thinks I'm pretty and tells me he loves all my crazy ideas.  

So now that I'm in this, the mothering and cleaning and loving and time-outing, why does a few hours alone at a coffee shop feel like the best thing in the whole world?  Why did I want to put yoga pants and a cozy sweater on and get out of the house so badly today? 

I don't know for sure, but I do have a theory, and it is pretty simple actually: we need to rest.  It's when we rest that our minds get a little more space to think, our hearts get a little more margin to feel, and our bodies get a little more time to recover.  When we rest we remember the gratitude that can be hard to recall amidst temper tantrums and diaper cream.  When we rest, we get a new perspective; we see, and see again, that maybe we don't want to be anywhere else other than here, right where we are.  It's been two hours, and I miss my home already, with all the noise that comes with it and the work that it means for me, I miss it.  I love those beautiful faces inside it so dang much.  

God's best work is done in me when my soul can rest enough in him to actually see it, because I lose sight of it in the mess sometimes. Today, rest meant a solo date to a coffee shop.  Next year, maybe it will mean more.  But from time to time, we've got to put down all the things we carry just so that we can readjust our grip on them, pick them back up, and hold them firmly again.

That's where I'm headed, back home, where a little girl will run to the stairs and yell my name like she hasn't seen me in days, and a little baby boy will push his arms up on the floor, kick his legs behind him, and give me a smile.  Then the little girl will go back to whatever had her attention in the seconds before, the little boy will want to eat, and just like that, I'm clocked back in for my very favorite job.  Rested and thankful beyond words for the work it is.            

I've challenged myself to a (mostly) No TV November.  Harper gets to watch Dora or the occasional movie, still, and I get to watch Parenthood on Fridays (because I just need to) and have a football game or two on over the weekend (again, because I need to); but naps times, night times, down times, they are all quiet right now.  And friends, it has been awesome.

This little challenge was not a legalistic stance on the moral decay of television, even though there is probably plenty to say about that and the influences I have been letting in to our home.  Rather, it has simply been about two things: I want to listen for the Holy Spirit, and I was not always making the space to do it; and I want to read, because books are like friends to me, and with two little ones finding reading minutes is hard enough, I needed to do something drastic to make the choice an easy one for me.  It has been just about three weeks with no Today Show, no nap time TLC shows, no evening Voice episodes.  Instead, is has been sermons on in the background while I fold laundry, two (!!) finished books in three weeks (have you read Unbroken?  Because you need to, right now!), and a little more time spent being intentional with my hobbies, my dreams, and my home.

There is something really beautiful and peaceful about the quiet.  I haven't had a spiritual awakening or a monumental prophecy delivered to me, but I've just relished the space to simply be when there is no noise to numb that.  It has felt like the Holy Spirit is a little more welcome in our home when there is not quite as much of a fight for attention, and that's really want I want in the end.  

So come December, the challenge to myself will be over, but I don't think the tv will come on quite as much.  Peter tells us in his second letter that we would do well to pay attention to God's word like a lamp shining in a dark place (2:19).  For me, I'm just not good at paying attention to other things when Real Housewives is on, and I want to choose the better thing with my days.  A sweet, sweet writer said once that "I am responsible for the things I allow into my heart and mind."  That thought stayed with me: If I get to choose much of what goes in, and if I want to live bravely, I better fill my life with the kinds of things I will need in a dark place.