What a gift.  That’s the phrase that keeps coming to mind as I think back on this year: what an incredible gift!

As I try to put in to words the ways in which God has blessed and provided for us, I realize that reducing his greatness to the tangible blessings of life in middle-class America does a great injustice to him.  We are blessed, to be sure.  And no one knows that more than we do.  I have an incredible husband, humble to the core and devoted to me and his family above anyone or anything else.  Together we have three precious babies, and parenting them has taught us more about God and each other than any other endeavor.  We both have been given the gift of meaningful (paid!) work: Alex as a nurse and me as a teacher.  And of course we have the blessing of enjoying the little things in life: creativity and writing, reading and learning and filling our bookshelves to the brim, setting goals and being disciplined toward pursuing them, and enjoying the people God has graciously given to us as our friends.  These are graces that so much of the world does not have, and when I really think about it, they are not so “little” at all.

But perhaps the greatest thing that has happened to us this year is that we finally understand with new purpose why we have this life: to bring God glory.  That’s all, and amen.

Our marriage, our parenting, our work, our hobbies, our passions, our home: none of them are meant only to set up a comfortable life from now until the end.  God is far too big and far too concerned with the things of eternity to think only about giving a very small percentage of the world a nice eighty-or-so years on earth and then entrance into his presence forever.  No, no.  We have purpose here, and great work to do.  And that great work happens in the big moments and the small details. 

This past year our family grew from four to five.  God was just so good to give us Jordi Daniel. We bought a mini van to accommodate and, haters gonna hate but it has been my favorite purchase ever.  Alex began his career as a nurse and found a home in a job he loves.  I spent the school year as a “lecturer” at a small Christian university in town, which basically means a teacher but my title made me feel the tiniest bit proud (and gave me something to write on a resume, you know, the important things in life).  We spent much of the warm months at my parents’ home on the lake, we laughed with new friends and even got the chance to visit old ones in other parts of the country. 

We made lots of mistakes and let other people down at times, moments I wish I could take back and words I wish I could unsay.  But we learned a lot about repentance and hope to walk out those lessons with more and more humility our entire lives. 

We read books, studied scripture, and are imperfectly finding the beautiful rhythm of new routines that allow for real time in God’s word, even in the busy-ness of a swing shift job and three children.  And after almost four years at our church we decided to make the move to a new one, a small church plant in the very heart of our city.  It has been the best decision for us; we absolutely love the place God has led our family and the way we are learning about Him there.  But leaving one home for another after four years has not been easy.  We have over-explained to some and failed to explain at all to others.  I wonder still how one finds the right words for a transition like this.  We tell people the truth, that we sensed God doing many new things in us, and in that process calling us to a new place- but how does one manage how others interpret and accept that?  Well, I have landed on this: I do not think you can, and I do not think I should.  My desperate to please everyone self wants to more than anything, but I have to trust that the Holy Spirit is alive and moving and directing the steps of all of us, and in the process he is teaching us to keep our eyes on Him and on building his bride, the church, the way he has asked each of us to.  We pray daily for unity among all believers, and then we walk forward with a humble confidence.  The way we see it, we have two precious church families now, and hope to forever.

Alex and I have fought and then reconciled.  We wrestled with what his sobriety needs to look like, how to parent together rather than one at a time, and how to value this marriage relationship more than any other on earth.  I wish I could say we’ve found the formula, but we haven’t.  What we have found is God’s word, and what he has to say about dying to ourselves seems to inform the way we need to do our marriage better than anything.

I struggled to no end with fear and insecurity this year: in my parenting, in my job, in my friendships, and like always, in my writing.  But I think when the anxiety of those feelings hit the hardest we also have a chance to learn the most, and that is what happened to me.  I turned off the tv a few months ago and really have not turned it back on, because I am finally taking responsibility for the things I let in to my mind and taking seriously the exhortation to truly think about whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence, anything worthy of praise... (I have tried so hard to fit Bravo into this category and right now, for me, I just cannot.)  I am working so intentionally to get a handle on social media and the comparison issues it causes in me.  I love the connection and learning about meaningful work of others afforded by Facebook and Instagram, but at times I fail to celebrate others in their life and work because I’m only thinking of me and my not-enoughness; and then up comes an ugliness in my heart I am anything but proud of.  But I see it all very clearly now, and I’m daily learning how to walk with Jesus through a culture I want to be in but not of.

And finally, I think Alex and I are re-learning what it means to parent.  Maybe this is something we are always re-learning, all of us.  As our children grow from babies to little toddlers trying to grasp their words, and toddlers learning their words to young children telling stories and practicing kindness, we have to continually find ways to give them each what they need.  I think that being a mom of intention may very well be the most profound journey God takes me on this coming year.  But as I look at all three faces under my roof, I am overwhelmed every time to know that God would give me the gift of investing in these three souls with eternity in mind.  It's my favorite job. 

A whole year’s worth of moments, mostly really great, some really hard, all of them telling a story.  In the end, I think this year has been one of me wanting to keep the main thing the main thing and fumbling my way towards that end.  I’ve learned who I am not while learning who I am, and those are important distinctions to make.  I am a follower of Jesus, a sinner saved by grace through faith.  I am Alex’s wife and mom to Harper, Cannon and Jordi, the two titles that are the honor of my life.  I am a teacher and a writer, a homemaker and an advocate for the marginalized.  And, I hope many of you reading this would also say I am a friend, because caring for the people in my life actually makes me come alive, too.  I hope and pray that in 2016 I can live in to these roles with more love and intention than I have given them before, spending my days wanting more of Jesus and, by his grace, making more of Him, too. 

He's making all things new, friends, and he is starting with each of us.  Here's to a year of faith in Him, lived out with a bold simplicity and the humble offering of praise that our life can be. 

We all got an extra hour of sleep last night, which to a mom of little ones essentially means that everything just starts an hour earlier.  But that’s ok, because mornings are my favorite and I love that the sun will rise before the world really gets going with their day now.  And do you remember that summer sunshine I bragged about for three solid months?  You know, the 10:00pm sunsets and late nights on the deck with friends?  Well, THIS is where we earn them.  We have officially entered the abyss of darkness that is the winter months, when the sun is gone a little after 4:00pm and we all walk around just a little bit tired and slightly Vitamin D deficient for the next half a year.  Soldier on, Northwesterners.  June is a mere eight months from today and in the meantime I will just casually leave three words here for your cold hands to hold on to: toasted graham lattes.

Our life on the homefront has been both the best and the fullest of any season I can remember.  In the midst of babies and bellies growing, careers demanding time, relationships needing tending and all the usual stuff of life, God has been so, so good to do something for Alex and I: He has united us in ways that I’m not sure we have ever been so ‘together’ on before.  We are hungry for God’s word, and while our time and walks with the Lord are separate, the paths are merging in the sweetest ways.  I did not truly realize until recently that we have mostly cheered one another on in our four years of marriage—not at all a bad thing—but right now it feels like we are hand in hand and not waving at each other from a sideline.  I feel so lucky to do life with this man and call him the leader of our family, more and more every day.

The last two months have also taught me a whole lot about juggling, a skill I thought I had down because, well, former student-athlete over here.  But let me tell you, Division I sports has nothing on motherhood, nothing.  Add 36 weeks of pregnancy to that mix and GOODNIGHT.  Keeping up with an almost-three year old, an eighteen month old who climbs on everything, and a baby boy who seems to be half-ninja in my belly has me leaning toward the deep end of exhaustion every day.  The kind where, if you sit down past 3:00pm, it takes an effort of monumental proportions to lift your own body again—mostly because we all feel the size of a child humpback at this point in baby-growing.  I’ve also taught nine credits since the end of August, which means grading, always grading (shout out to the two grandmas in my life for free babysitting!).  And perhaps the weightiest, no pun intended, piece of the last few months has been less physical and more emotional, because I’m watching the refugees and learning more and more of their plight and my heart falls right down to the floor (p.s. you can still HELP raise money for them right here!).  I’m sitting with friends who are walking through cancer diagnoses with people they love dearly, and it’s painful.  I’m part of building a small team of women that want to tell a different story to the world about our sisters stuck in the sex industry, and it’s hard to meet those women and hear what they actually think of themselves. 

You see friends, I’m so much of a make a list and get to work on it kind of person that this season of tenderness and deep feeling God has brought me to has truly stretched and humbled me.  Between God’s Word, and of course, third trimester hormones, I’m in a new place.  Still rejoicing in all the good, but really feeling the hard and wrestling through the insecurity that seems to follow any good endeavor we all make (anyone else feel like they always need to be told “Hey, you’re doing alright!”)?

In the end, the Fall season has been beautifully stretching, as much of life seems to be.  We’ve had children’s dentist appointments (I cannot talk about this), broken garage doors (not cheap), and freeway calls to AAA (just get the membership, worth it).  But we also have had late nights in our friend’s home, the kind where you put the babies to bed in pack n’ plays and stay up late solving all of life’s dilemmas (my favorite kind).  Big Al and I snuck away to a hotel (with a Jacuzzi tub!) for one night and enjoyed very second of it (and also slept nine hours. Hallelujah).  My best friend spent a weekend in town from Georgia and Harper jumped into her arms again and again and again at the park (it does something crazy good to your soul when lifetime friends become heroes to your babies).  We’ve all been growing, all been learning, all been stumbling.  And it’s all been worth it; I think it always will be when you somehow love Jesus a little bit more when you’re standing again. 

And here we are in November.  Just over four weeks from my third baby in three years, and very much looking forward to life with him and the other three people under my roof.  I have prepared less for this baby by a large measure than the other two, and I’m looking forward to wrapping up a few projects and then just being: finishing the room transition, packing a hospital bag, praying, waiting, praying some more, teaching my toddlers about thankfulness and practicing it every day, and keeping scripture at the center of my life and home.  And who knows, if baby boy decides to come a week early like his siblings, my November round-up might be a little extra exciting!

I hope your November is filled with good things, including cozy socks and fireplaces and time, just time to be around the people who fill you up.  I am immeasurably thankful for mine.

Oh sweet July, you’ve been a month to dream, to talk, to play, to question, to seek truth, to laugh, and to savor.  July was the month my husband marked five years of being sober and the month Harper learned to take selfies.  It’s the month we hiked and played with friends and finally got a few tomatoes from our garden, and also the month we argued over big things and prayed for resolution that the Lord so sweetly brought us.  It seems like life is a pattern of heavy and light, and we are learning the best we can how to navigate it all with the grace the world needs us to.  As I look back on the last few weeks of sunshine, I know I will want to remember…

…the day we found out we are having another baby boy.  We brought Harper and Cannon into the ultrasound room, and as the technician said “it looks like a brother!” my heart about burst into pieces.  My leading lady, my sweet and playful middle boy, and now a little buddy to round out the starting lineup.  I could not have dreamed up this life I’m living, but I am crazy grateful God is entrusting me with these babies.

…that we are all dreamers.  I read Make it Happen by Lara Casey earlier in the spring, and then when I found out a few people I love had started a book club, well, I went ahead and invited myself to it.  Meeting with these girls and going through the powersheets has been amazing for me.  I’ve been getting clarity on what deserves my yes and bravery on what needs my no.  And I’m inviting God to guide my goals in a way I never had before.  The point of this book and the activities with it is to think about what is possible and be intentional towards those things.  And sharing the process with other people, listening to their fears and then cheering on their ideas and goals, has reminded me that God did give each of us— yep, you too— a big, huge purpose in this world for Him.

…the way my son wants to snuggle every morning. Mornings have always been mama’s territory, so when Cannon started waking up just ten minutes after me, I was mostly frustrated by it.  But then I realized that these days are fleeting, and someday soon he won’t want my lap anymore, then a sweet little routine was born: as soon as I hear him around 5:30, I make a bottle of milk, greet him with a smile, and we go rock in the corner of our living room for about 20 minutes.  When he is done with his milk, he turns around and finds a home on my shoulder, and there we sit in silence—with the occasional glance and smile from him.  The light is so peaceful in the early morning, and when your baby boy is on your shoulder, so is your heart.  When he’s ready, he slides off my lap and goes to find some toys, and I attempt to resume a little time with Jesus before the house is busy again.  But these mornings, just me and my boy, will forever be etched in my heart.

…that our words matter.  I have been more encouraged by the words of others this month than I can remember.  Whether they are congratulatory words, truthful words, sincere words of correction, or encouragement to keep writing, the honesty of so many of my people has been nothing short of soul-filling.  Did you know that every comment, every text, every single bit of love shown to me as a mama, a wife, or a writer feels like an instant reason to smile and keep going?  They do.  I hold on to every one of them.  So if you did not know before how full of gratitude I am for your words, you know now.  I only hope that my words go as far for others as theirs have for me.     

And lastly, I hope I always remember that God’s word matters the most. The last month feels like it has brought with it an unrelenting storm of confusion and sadness in the news, and the vitriol loaded at one another over social media breaks my heart as much as the actual events on display.  And still, there is God’s word, that calls to us as believers and reminds of the truths we desperately need to cling to and boldly believe in, as we always have.  Fear cannot take over our hearts when God’s words have already taken up residence there, it just can’t.  In our home we are constantly remembering the words of Peter, when he reminds us that “we have the prophetic word [the Bible] more fully confirmed [you know, by the empty grave and all], to which you will do well to pay attention as to a lamp shining in a dark place, until the day dawns and the morning star rises in your hearts.”  Let’s not kid ourselves, God is so much bigger than our tiny moment in history.  Infinitely bigger.  And what He has always said never changes: love Him, love others.  His ultimate justice cannot be and will not be messed with in any way.  Let's not forget that.

Another full, wonderful summer month in the books.  We will be soaking in our last few weeks of sunshine before the leaves turn and the routines come back around, and I hope you will, too!  Happy August, friends.  Let's love well, even better than people expect us to.

It’s May.  Already.  I can’t believe it, but I also love it. In this family the month of May means Mexican food, birthdays, mamas, and warmer weather. So basically, some of my very favorite things.  You can expect me to talk entirely too much about the sun until September, because after that the Northwest weather is rarely worth talking about.  But Washingtonians… we summer, y’all. Verb. Come visit!

The last few weeks have been a big hiatus on the home front.  My written words have been few, and I feel that deep in my heart.  I’ve unintentionally traded quiet time for more time in bed, writing time for television, and books for instagram browsing.  But I’m not stuck there in guilt; just thankful, excuse the cliché, for a new day.  Yet in spite of the slow pace of my own world the last month, we have had great days and blessings to celebrate.  My amazing husband got a new job and then because he’s a total stud ran the 7.4 mile Bloomsday race in 49 minutes; we celebrated Mother’s Day with my mom and mother-in-law at Dockside in Coeur D’Alene, and then Cannon Lee, my sweet little boy, turned ONE!  For me, the second child’s first year has gone by much faster than the first’s.  Like, way faster.  How is my little man already walking and eating everything and getting mad when he doesn’t get what he wants?  He’s becoming a little boy right in front of my eyes.  I love it, but I want him to stay cuddleable and little at the same time.  Yet the calling of motherhood always, always wins over what we want, doesn’t it?  They grow and grow and our job every day is to do the best for them.  It’s hard, holy work.  The best kind of work.

Later this week I’m going on a we’re turning thirty this year girls weekend with some of my favorites.  I can hardly think about anything else this week because I’m beyond excited. Already started packing excited. Four of us are leaving seven kids with grandmas and dads and headed to the sunshine. Three nights will be the longest I’ve been away from my babies, but they will be in good hands and I will be with my besties, and by Sunday I’ll be ready to get home and hug them tight.  Isn’t that part of the good a weekend away does— makes you long for the hugs at home again?

At the end of the month I’m saying goodbye to my twenties. (!!!) Ummmmm… we can talk more about that later.  For now, I’m anxious to get in to a new rhythm again and live in to all that God has in store for a new decade.  He’s so good, even in our mess.  Happy May, friends!

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.