When Healing Happened in the Smallest Spaces

This time last year, we were struggling just to keep our heads above water. We had just moved to San Antonio, and it felt like we were carrying a storm on our backs. Every time we tried to catch our breath, something else came crashing down.

Our move started out rough, being separated for a few weeks while I finished my job and Jeremy already starting his job in Natalia. Early into football season Biscuit broke his arm, a break bad enough to require surgery. Not long after that, my teaching job ended. Jay had to leave college and move back home. I had to pull Maddie from the school the boys were attending because her disabilities were not welcomed. The first time we experienced true discrimination.

And then came December…

Jett got sick and spent the entire month in the ICU. My days were spent in hospital hallways, living on prayers and cafeteria food, hoping for one good update. Christmas came and went still on the 10th floor of University Medical Center San Antonio. 

Then Jeremy’s new truck broke down and led to a 10-month-long lawsuit. And as if our hearts weren’t stretched thin enough, Maddie got sick. Two kids in two different hospitals. She came home with a ventilator. 

Somewhere in all of that chaos, I was feeling more desperate to go "home" than I have ever felt before. After a weekend at a coaching clinic and a long talk I finally worked up the courage to tell Jeremy I wanted to go home, without hesitation he said "me too". A few weeks later he made a decision that looked wild on paper but felt right in his heart: He resigned from his job without having another one lined up. He simply believed God was going to bring us home. 

The months that followed were hard. There were interviews, waiting, closed doors, and a few hopeful ones that never quite opened. But then slowly things started to shift.

Jobs were offered. Conversations felt different. A twinge of hope every now and then. 

And then, God made a way.

He brought us back to the Big Country. Back home. Back to the kind of community that remembers your name and shows up before you even ask, for you AND your kids. Even more cool is that the one person, the one family, the one friend that I had in San Antonio, God sent with us to Baird. 

Jeremy accepted a job offer. We found a house, a very small, under 1,000 sq feet,  house which was nicknamed “The Mansion on the Hill.” It was tiny, but it felt like hope. Like exhale. Like healing. We made it work.

And that healing did happen. In that teeny-tiny house, our hearts finally found a place to rest.

The kids started school, and the littles were embraced so fully, I almost forgot they weren’t “typical” students. The big kids fit in as if they had always lived here. They have made friends. They have found roots. They have found joy again.

And then, just two weeks ago God opened up another door... to a much bigger house. 

We finally moved into a bigger home. With the move happening and months of healthy reports I made the decision to call the medical equipment companies. All of the kids’ medical equipment is now scheduled to be picked up.

No more ventilators.
No more oxygen tanks.
No more monitors.

The Littles are HEALTHY again with MULTIPLE good reports! 

Jeremy finally won the lawsuit and now has a new truck. I have a job that I truly love, one that allows me to work and still be present for every school event, game, therapy session, and celebration.

The boys are happy.
The littles are healthy.
We have our family back.
We have our community back.
And for the first time in a long time… we have peace.

If you’re walking through your own storm, hold on.
But one day you’ll look back and say…
Here’s to coming home.
Here’s to the tiny Mansion on the Hill that brought so much healing. 

We are not the same family we were one year ago.

God didn’t just bring us home — He brought us back to LIFE.
You might not see it yet. You might not feel it yet.
“That’s when the ground began to shift.”
Here’s to healing.

Now, it's time to grow. 

We’ve done harder things!

 Seven months ago, we packed up our lives and moved to San Antonio, leaving behind everything and everyone we knew. We thought we were strong. We weighed our pros and cons, the pros included, closer to a children's hospital, better pay, better facilities, closer to the beach, more actives for the kids. 

From the moment we arrived, life has thrown relentless challenges our way.

I started my new job at the high school just 24 hours after moving, and the first few days were rough as I adjusted to an entirely new world without the support system we once had.Maddie, our sweet girl with complex medical needs, was not welcomed at her new school. Despite our efforts to make

it work, the school environment was not accommodating, leaving us heartbroken and frustrated. 

Then, in the middle of everything, Maddie was hospitalized in Fort Worth for a week. We were relieved when she was finally approved for nursing hours, but that relief was short-lived. The difficulty of her school led to us going through three different nurses in just three weeks.

As we tried to regain some stability, life had other plans. Biscuit broke his arm, requiring surgery and rehab, cutting his football season short. Around the same time, Jay’s mental health declined. Being away at college in San Angelo proved to be too much, and we faced every parent's worst nightmare—substance abuse and a downward spiral. We brought him home, trying to pick up the pieces and help him heal.

Then, my own world at work crumbled. As a teacher, I faced potential lawsuits, grievances, and terroristic threats—all stemming from issues that spiraled beyond my control. My safety, my mental health, and my family's well-being were at risk. I was too scared to go to football games alone. I had no choice but to resign from a job I loved and pull Maddie from her school at the same time.

Just when we thought we could take a breath, Jett was hospitalized. What we assumed would be a quick stay turned into a month-long battle, including time in the ICU. The doctors discovered a diaphragmatic tumor, and he now requires oxygen as we await a plan for his treatment. The day he was finally discharged, Jeremy’s truck broke down. After investigating, we learned that a botched oil change resulted in a blown engine, and we are now locked in a legal battle for the damages.

As we waited for Jett’s next steps, Maddie got sick. Again, we thought it was something minor—just strep and antibiotics. But one week in the hospital later, we discovered she has severe sleep apnea and now requires a ventilator with oxygen at home while awaiting further testing.

To top it all off, life kept throwing curveballs. Our dog unexpectedly had seven puppies, and the day we brought Maddie home from the hospital, last week, we found out all of them had suffered chemical burns from an unknown source. The resulting vet bills were overwhelming, and we ultimately had to surrender them to a foster home.

This season has been relentless. Exhausting. From the very start, nothing has gone as planned— The reserved U-Haul for Jeremy wasn’t available the day we moved.  Jay got a flat tire on moving day. Jeremy’s flight back to help finish moving was canceled due to a random international IT shutdown at the airports.

And now, we are here—tired, broken, and unsure of what’s next. Jett has surgery scheduled for April 14. Maddie’s much-anticipated surgery, originally set for April 25, has been pushed back to July. At one point, we even had two kids in two different hospitals at the same time.

This isn't a post for pity. It’s not even a post to vent. It’s just the truth of what life has looked like for us these past months. We knew moving here would be a challenge, but we never expected this level of hardship. The weight of it all—physically, mentally, and emotionally—has been unbearable at times.

Having Jeremy’s mom here has been a huge blessing, but the absence of the family and friends we left behind has left a hole that cannot be filled. The boys miss hunting and their ball teams. I miss my sister. We all miss Granny. 

The children's hospital that we lived in for over a month isn't comparable to Cook Childrens. The better facilities are indeed better and beautiful and fun. We haven't even had a chance to visit the beach. We have enjoyed Sea World and Morgan's Wonderland but Jaxon still hasn't landed a team that feels like family. 

We are at a crossroads. We need clear direction from God on what to do next. Please keep our family in your prayers as we navigate these next steps. We are exhausted. We believed in our mantra: "We've done harder things." But we weren't prepared for ALL of this.

 

"...with the help of a real and loving God."

The past few months have been filled with changes and challenges for all of us. On October 25, I said goodbye to my teaching job, and Maddie Jo's last day of school was October 18. We had to make difficult decisions that disrupted what we once thought was a well-laid plan. 

Teaching is one of the most demanding jobs, and taking on a position as an adjunct instructor through a local community college, in addition to Life Skills aide, was supposed to be a way to balance being present for the kid's at school, supporting my husband’s schedule and utilize my education and skills. I knew it wouldn’t be easy—I’d need to make lesson plans, grade papers over the weekends, meet students after hours—all for just $300 a month stipend attached to a teachers aide pay, which is not near enough. But I believed it would be worth it if it meant being there for my children.

What I didn't anticipate was how quickly the situation would shift. From day one, my character was questioned, I was threatened by a parent and it got to the point where I feared going to school events to support my own family. I lost sleep at night, replaying every word I said in class, worried it could be twisted and used against me. I feared losing my nursing license from exaggerated scenarios. I couldn’t build genuine connections with my students out of fear, nor could I meet their needs as I wanted to, constrained by policies that prioritized uniformity over compassion. I didn’t know the light that I tried so hard to be for others would soon start to dim. Thankfully, I did have a supportive administration and school board and local officers that has fought for justice for many of the staff that have been victimized. 

Maddie Jo’s school experience mirrored mine. In just two months, there were multiple teachers, aids, and private duty nurses, none of whom were equipped, supported or willing to create the consistency she needed. The lack of resources and a caring environment was heartbreaking, and I had to advocate for her endlessly. The weight of it all—the mental and emotional exhaustion—led us to realize that a change was necessary. It wasn’t fair to her, and it wasn’t fair to us as a family.

I gave my two-week notice with no backup plan, placing my faith in God to guide us forward. Medicaid restrictions made it impossible for me to work solely as an aide, given the 40-hour nursing coverage limit and the commute time that ate into those hours. We withdrew Maddie Jo from school the next week and stepped out in faith, trusting God would provide. I am thankful for her last aide and last teacher that truly want the best for their students, it was just to late, too much damage had been done and I had zero trust in the administration at her campus. 

Soon after, I was offered another job at a the neighboring district, and I made sure to be upfront about Maddie Jo’s needs. I insisted she would need to be properly settled into her new classroom before I could start. Despite my clarity and multiple follow-ups, the special education department remained silent. We set a deadline, and when it passed without a response, I rescinded my acceptance. I "quit" a job before even starting because of a lack of support in the special education system. This isn’t just my struggle; many parents face the isolation and disheartening reality of raising a special needs child while balancing work.

The next day, I reached out to our zoned school district, a place where I had previously met with staff who genuinely seemed excited to welcome Maddie Jo. The difference was immediate and heartwarming. On Friday, I dropped off her medical supplies and completed her paperwork. On Monday, Maddie Jo and her new nurse will start together, and I’m hopeful for a brighter experience. Her new nurse is amazing and I think they will be the perfect pair. 

I’ve decided to not return to work full time, like many special needs parents are forced to, and focus on my kids’ medical and educational needs, supporting them and rekindling the light that God placed in me so I can shine for others again. I would love to return to the school district with the boys and Jeremy one day when Maddie Jo's needs can be met and I can go to school without the mental stress. We will continue to support their school, the sports, the programs, the students, the teachers, staff and the administration. 

As a coaching family our "house mood" is pretty dependent on the season we are in. We are now 9 weeks into our football season, which on its own brings its share of stress. The varsity team is currently 1-8. We knew going into this year that we had a young team and that it probably wouldn’t be an undefeated season, but we were excited to watch Biscuit play as the JV quarterback in his freshman year. Unfortunately, his season came to an abrupt end on September 26 when he made a tackle, was stepped on, and broke his hand, which required surgery. Watching him have to sit out and heal has been tough, he’s shown resilience and determination to come back stronger but my heart hurts for him. He should get the pins removed this week and hopefully we will be full healed in time for some basketball. Friday nights are not fun, not to mention navigating multiple non-handicap accessible stadiums that I am not familiar with, but Coach's perseverance doesn't waiver, heading into week 10 and still working 7 days a week to put together the best plan possible for the boys to be successful. Maddie Jo also has a new found love for cheerleading and high school band. 

In the midst of these changes, on October 16, Jay faced his own battles while navigating college life. Trying to find himself in a new environment brought challenges he hadn’t anticipated, and after an incident that could have ended very tragically, he decided to come back home, refocus on his priorities, and start working. We are profoundly grateful for the people God put in his path that day—my dad and step-mom and long time friends, who helped ensure he made it through until I could get from San Antonio to San Angelo. Over the next 63 hours we prayed that he would return to "normal" again and be the Jay that we sent off to college. I prayed a lot over those 3 days between begging God to not make me bury another child and praying that Jay's heart would be softened and know and understand that he we love him more than he will ever know. We are just normal people, doing our best to raise good human beings, and in an instant, we found ourselves not knowing if our child was dead or alive due to choices made in an attempt to fit in, make friends, and escape the stresses of college life as a freshman who had never been to school without us and barely spent the night away from home. I am so thankful that he is alive today. He has a secured a great job and is working on himself to be the best version he can be. 

I share these struggles openly because we are just real people with real battles, facing them with the help of a real and loving God. If one post can reach another mama and make her feel less isolated in her journey, then it’s worth sharing. Satan’s mission is to kill, steal, and destroy, but when two or more gather in prayer, God hears us, and Satan’s plans crumble. He does not have the power to take away or diminish the beautiful life that God has planned for each of us. So, if you find yourself in the midst of hardship, remember that you are not alone, and God’s strength is greater than any challenge we face.

The last four months have taught me that plans may change, but faith and perseverance can guide us through the darkest valleys. If you are in a season of change or struggle, know that you are not alone. Talk to your kids about the dangers of drugs and alcohol, not just once but over and over and over again. Support your children’s teachers, advocate fiercely for your little ones, and trust in God’s timing. He sees the whole picture when we only see fragments.

If you are in the trenches hold on to this promise. I have repeated it multiple times a day to myself the last few weeks: "And we know that God causes everything to work together for the good of those who love God and are called according to his purpose for them." Romans 8:28 

Thank you for walking this path with us. Your prayers and support mean everything.