A few months ago I posted a review of One Thousand Gifts by Ann Voskamp. I’ve been counting gifts ever since. I’ve found it’s impossible to be grouchy and grateful at the same time so gift counting is something I wanted to be intentional about in 2012.

In December, I wrote about Joy. Joy in suffering. Joy in the Moment. Our real reason for Joy.

So imagine my Joy when I discovered the Joy Dare for 2012. An opportunity to count 1000 gifts in 2012, along with thousands of others, and rediscover Joy all year long.

If you look at the top of this page, you’ll see a “One Thousand Gifts” tab. You can click there to see my one thousand gifts in 2012. Ann’s made it as easy as imaginable with a calendar and prompts for every day.

I’ll also be tweeting (@LynnHBlackburn) my gifts (#1KGiftsDare) several times a week.

Won’t you join me in intentional joy and thankfulness this year?

I’m a Clemson Tiger. My blood runneth
Orange. And when it comes to my team, I’m all in . . . all the
time.

But sweet mercy.

For those of you who don’t follow
college athletics, Wednesday night the Clemson Tigers faced the West
Virginia Mountaineers in the Orange Bowl.

Clemson was favored to win.

Clemson got juiced.

When the last drop of dignity had been
squeezed from our orange peel, the Mountaineers were victorious in a
stunning 70-33 final.

It takes a true believer to wear the
colors on the day after a loss like that. To acknowledge that we blew
it in every way imaginable, but still have hope for a new day, a new
season, another opportunity to return to the Orange Bowl and emerge
victorious.

I love the idea of being all in. It’s
how I want to live my life. All in . . . all the time.
Whatever God
has for me, I want to charge down the hill onto the field and face it
head on. After all, if God is for us, who can be against us! I’m
favored to win. All the time.

And some days, I do. I take the field
full of the Holy Spirit and when children whine, I pray. When laundry
mounts, I praise. When agents reject, I rejoice (ok . . . maybe not .
. . but you get the idea).

Then there are days where the score
swings wildly. I stumble, make poor decisions, and drop passes.
Thank goodness for half-time where I regroup and end the day on high
note.

But some days . . . the kids take turns
getting up all night and my defense is worn out before the sun comes
up. I’ve been sacked six times before breakfast, and even three
cups of coffee aren’t enough to prevent me from throwing two
interceptions before lunch. There are missed tackles, fumbles, and
poorly executed plays.

I have to wonder if that “great cloud
of witnesses” is squirming in their seats wondering what happened
to their girl. Where’s the mighty warrior of yesterday? Where’s
the comeback kid of last week? Why can’t she throw up a few blocks?
Why won’t she use her shield of faith? Her breastplate of
righteousness?

Do they watch as I collapse into bed,
sick with the knowledge that not only was today a poor showing, but
one I’ll regret forever? Do they wonder who will show up the next
day—the star quarterback or the third string kicker?

‘Cause lets face it, in this game, no
one can blame the Coach.

I’m so thankful God doesn’t watch
my “Orange Bowl” performances and give up on me. When I’m in
the locker room, spent and humiliated, He reminds me that I may have
lost this game but the Eternal Championship is already in the bag.
His Son won that battle on the cross (talk about being “all in”).
And while I sometimes embarrass myself on the field, the truth is
that His Spirit lives inside me and empowers me to run the plays God
calls.

Have you already blown it in 2012?
Yeah. Me, too.

Let’s put the “Orange Bowl” behind
us.

Our Coach forgives when we ask and He
never gives up on us.

Today is a new game day. We can choose
to wallow in past defeat or charge the field confident we will win.

I’m all in . . . who’s with me?

The steadfast love of the LORD never
ceases; his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning;
great is your faithfulness. “The LORD is my portion,” says my
soul, “therefore I will hope in him.” (Lamentations 3:22-24)

*****
Congratulations to Liz! She’s the winner of the Tony Dungy One Year Uncommon Life Daily Challenge! Thanks to all who participated!

It’s the first Thursday of the month, so I’m blogging over at The Write Conversation today.

Have you ever dared to pray, “Lord, this is what I want?” Should you?

Could you be so bold?

We’re talking about shooting for the stars so come by and tell us what you are praying for during 2012.

A new year.

What’s a task-oriented, planner-toting, stressed-out-mom-of-three, wanna-be-writer to do?

There’s a part of me that longs to open a spreadsheet and plan the next twelve months.

There’s another part of me that knows just how long that spreadsheet will hold up under the steady stream of daily life.

So this year, I’m trying something new.

Well, it’s not new. It’s new to me.

Instead of resolutions and detailed plans of attack, I’ve chosen one word for 2012. One word to focus on, to filter decisions through, to pray for and about.

One word.

And let’s face it. For a word-loving girl like me, narrowing anything down to one word should have been challenging. But this word floated to the surface with ease.

I tried a few other words, let them bob along in my mind for a few days, but they couldn’t stay afloat. So I’m stuck with this word. For 366 days.

My word for 2012?

Intentional.

My prayer for 2012? That I’ll use this word to remind myself that I don’t want to bob along without direction. I don’t want to parent by accident. I don’t want to write on whims. I don’t want to worship only when the mood strikes. I don’t want to be so busy ordering my day that I fail to rest in His plans for me.

Ten years from now, I want to be able to look back on this time of my life and see trips to the library, the zoo, and the children’s museum, sprinkled in with Bible studies, date nights, and, dare I say it, maybe a novel—or five?

Life is short. I want to live on purpose.
Not regimented. Not legalistic. Not even with a ten-page spreadsheet. But I don’t want to miss the things that matter. And it would be so easy to let that happen in the whirlwind of everyday life.

So here’s to a year of intentionality. I hope you’ll hop Out of the Boat and walk the waves with me.

How about you? Do you have a word for 2012? I’d love to hear about your New Year’s plans and possibilities!

Are you feeling a little blue? Post-Christmas malaise settling in? Are you thinking that there will be no more gifts for a year and you’re a bummed about that?

Well, then I’ve got great news!

The fine folks at Tyndale House Publishers will be giving one of my blog readers a copy of Tony Dungy’s latest book, The One Year Uncommon Life Daily Challenge.

**If you don’t know who Tony Dungy is then you are obviously not a football fan. And that’s OK. But you should definitely click on the link above and check him out. He’s a Super Bowl winning coach with a passion for God.**

The One Year Uncommon Life Daily Challenge focuses on seven themes: Core, Family, Friends, Potential, Mission, Influence, and Faith. The devotions rotate through each of the seven themes and each devotion stands on its own.

Each day’s reading begins with a passage of Scripture. Not just the reference, but the entire verse or verses, already printed on the page. I love that!

The devotion that follows ties to the verse and the theme for the day, usually with a story from either family or athletic life. Each day concludes with an Uncommon Key – a brief take away or action point based on the day’s reading.

I found the devotions to be straightforward and easy to read. The devotional is geared toward men (and I think that’s great!) but I found the readings to be quite applicable to me as a mom as well.

While I like the book, I like the purpose behind the book even more. Coach Dungy is challenging men – and women – to live Uncommon lives and the key to beginning that process is to spend time with God. EVERY DAY.

Check out this video from Coach Dungy as he describes the One Year Uncommon Life DAILY challenge. It’s only two minutes long and well worth it.

To enter to win your free copy, just leave a comment (include your first name and last initial). I’d love to know if you’re a football fan and would keep the book for yourself, or who you plan to give it to if you win! The contest is open through Friday, January 6th.

My regular blogging schedule will resume on Monday, January 2nd. I hope you’ve had a blessed holiday season!

The super fine print: I received a free copy of this book in exchange for my honest review.

Merry Christmas!

It’s something we struggle with—this
whole concept of suffering. We have an ingrained worldview that
suggests suffering is only “fair” if it’s deserved. When we know
our desire is to serve God and we are still clobbered by life, we
wrestle with “why me” and “this isn’t fair” thoughts.

These are the time when I have often
found the lives of Paul and Peter to be a source of comfort. These
men served God and on a regular basis took a beating for it.

But never, before this year, have I
ever realized that there’s someone else who we know—know it from
the very mouth of an angel—was favored by God and from the moment
of that proclamation—suffered.

Mary.

Think about her for a moment. A young
virgin with life cruising along as planned. Getting ready to marry a
great guy. Then an angel shows up and says “God thinks you’re
awesome and He’s going to give you a remarkable gift. You get to be
the mother of the Christ.”

What the angel didn’t say? “Oh, by the
way, you’ll live the rest of your life under a cloud of scandal. And
you’ll have to flee the country in a few months. When He grows up,
He’ll traipse all over the country doing miracles. And people will
talk. Oh yes, they will talk.

But none of that will compare to what’s
coming. There will be a day when you will watch Him beaten to a
bloody pulp, groan under the weight of a cross, hang from that cross,
and eventually, breathe what everyone will believe is His last
breath.”

We don’t know how much Mary understood.
We know that from day one, she’d been pondering everything. The
angels, the shepherds, the star, the wise men. We know she’d been
warned, when He was only a few days old, that a sword would pierce
her soul. You can bet she never forgot those words.

We know from the very beginning of His
public ministry that she knew He could perform miracles.

But we don’t know how she coped. Did
she live all of His thirty-three years wondering when it would
happen? Was she ever able to look at Him—tiny baby nestled against
her, chubby toddler wrestling with His brothers, gangly teen helping
Joseph craft a table—and enjoy being His mom without wondering how
it would all end?

Did she know that the end would be the
beginning?

When she watched Him hanging there,
even if she knew He would return in three days, would it have
mattered? Would it have lessened the agony? Would if have prevented
the tears?

I don’t think so. You won’t find this
spelled out in Scripture, but my mother’s heart tells me that on the
day He died, no one hurt the way she did.

Knowing the rest of the story, we can
say it was worth it. Mary undoubtedly would agree.

But in the moment, Mary suffered.

I wish the Bible gave a us picture of
the reunion. The joy on Mary’s face when she saw her resurrected son,
her resurrected Savior. I’m sure her tears dripped onto His
nail-scarred hands. Surely He held her close. Thanked her for being a
great mom. Assured her that it had all been part of God’s plan.

Can you see it?

He’d like to do that for us as well.

When life is hard. When the loneliness
is overwhelming. When the pain won’t go away. When it’s all over.
When nothing will ever be the same.

He is.

He knows.

His sacrifice makes Joy possible.
Continuous Joy. Even in suffering. Not because we think pain is fun.
But because we know there’s a purpose. There’s a plan.

There’s a future.

He will wipe away every tear from their
eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning,
nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away.
Revelation 21:4 (ESV)

As I’ve been mulling over the idea of how big God is and the miracle it is that He became flesh, I’ve also been thinking about how often God does things in ways that are both unexpected and incomprehensible.

I’m wondering how often I don’t see God’s hand because what’s happening doesn’t make sense to me.

I’m wondering how much Joy I miss out on because instead of resting in His plan, I’m arguing with Him about His methods or pointing out to Him that what He’s doing doesn’t seem like a good idea.

I could go on and on about it, but Christmas is ten days away and my guess is you don’t have time for me to go on and on!

So instead I thought I’d leave you with one of my favorite passages from The Last Battle.

I love The Chronicles of Narnia by C.S. Lewis. (Please don’t ask how many times I’ve read them – the answer is, “I have no idea and if we don’t quit talking about it I’m going to have to start reading them again!”)

At this point in the story, the characters have been fighting all around a small stable and are now inside.

Ponder this, and find the Joy!

“It seems, then,” said Tirian, smiling himself, “that the Stable seen from within and the Stable seen from without are two different places.”

“Yes,” said the Lord Digory. “Its inside is bigger than its outside.”

“Yes,” said Queen Lucy. “In our world too, a Stable once had something inside it that was bigger than our whole world.”

C.S. Lewis ~ The Last Battle

As my daughter opened birthday gifts
several months ago, a sheet of paper fluttered on the edge of my
sight. All I registered was that there were at least twelve steps and
for a fleeting moment, I questioned my sister’s sanity. What was she
thinking? Why would she give Emma a gift that would be so complicated
to use? I was confused because I know that Jennifer is a thoughtful gift giver and would never give Emma something that would
only frustrate her.

Before I could investigate the
instruction sheet further, Hetti the Hippo exploded into our living
room. Squeals of delight pierced the air as the pop up tent filled
the entire open space. Within seconds, the six foot long hippo was
filled with laughing children.

And then it hit me. The instructions
weren’t for getting the tent open.

They were for cramming it back into the
box.

Ten months later, that crazy hippo is
still living large in Emma’s room.
Even when we moved, we didn’t bother trying to fold her up. (That instruction sheet is long gone!)

I was thinking about this the other day
as I tried—and failed—to get my mind around the idea of God
becoming man. Of the Word made flesh.
Of infinity squeezed into
infancy.

I can’t comprehend how He did it.

It was way more complicated than
getting dear ol’ Hetti back in her box.

No engineer, no physicist, no
biologist, no chemist, no mathematician—no human could have ever
figured it out.

It was a God-sized job.

It required a God-sized idea.

But who could have imagined that a six
pound baby boy could contain—could be—a God-sized miracle.

For thirty-three years, Jesus squished
Himself into humanity.

And after He accomplished what He came
to do, He exploded from His box.

Two thousand years later, He’s still
living large in the heavens.

He was. He is. He always will be.

So as we focus on the babe in a manger,
let’s be sure we don’t try to cram God into a box. He’s not that kind
of God.

He’s the kind of God who limited
Himself so that we could be filled with unlimited Joy.

Psalm 92:4-5 ~ For you, O LORD, have
made me glad by your work; at the work of your hands I sing for joy.
How great are your works, O LORD! Your thoughts are very deep. (ESV)

I’m a wife, mother, and writer. I’m a
daughter, sister, and friend. I’m a reader, knitter, and scrapbooker.
I’m a cook, maid, and seamstress. I’m an engineer, manager, and
bookkeeper.

With all that stuff going on, you’d
think I’d be fulfilled.

Nope. Not even close. More often than
not, I feel anxious. Desperate. Inadequate.

My task-oriented nature struggles to
stay in the moment. To focus my energy on one thing, without mentally
scrambling to determine the most efficient way to check off something
else at the same time.

But by refusing to do one thing at a
time, I’m not doing any one thing well.

And I’m robbing myself of so much joy.

Jim Elliot is quoted as saying,
“Wherever you are, be all there.” I love that. I want that to
characterize my life. I think it’s another key to rediscovering joy.

Because something tells me that when
Jesus took on humanity, He was an “all there” kind of guy. Would
you care to guess what makes me think that?

Jesus spent nine months in a womb.

NINE MONTHS.

Have you ever thought of the challenge
that must have been? To go from omnipresence to embryo. To grow
inside a body You created.

But He did it. He was all there. All
God. All man. All at the same time. All miraculously contained inside
Mary’s swelling body. The Word that spoke the world into existence
limited Himself to baby babble. The hands that carved out oceans and
piled high mountains were content to bang on a pot with a wooden
spoon.

Wherever He was, He was all there.

And because He became Immanuel, God
with us, we have Joy. True Joy. Not fleeting happiness. Not momentary
pleasure.
Eternal Joy.

So as I stand in football field length
store lines or sit in gridlocked mall traffic, instead of chafing at
the limitations, I’m trying to practice being all there.

I’m not always successful, but when I
am, I’m discovering there’s so much Joy to be found in every moment.

So what about you? Do you feel up to a
Christmas challenge?
This weekend, join me. Wherever you are, be all
there. Wrapping presents? Be all there. At a party? Be all there. At
a Christmas program when you still have Christmas baking, shopping,
cleaning, and wrapping to do? Be all there.

I think you’ll find Joy there.
And when
you do, please come back and tell us about it!

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