"...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. 

When you think you’re not enough and God tells you different.

 Life is full of moments when we question if we’re doing enough, or if there’s something bigger out there waiting for us. Recently, I found myself at one of those crossroads. I applied for a job that felt like it could be a great fit—something in a familiar environment, giving me the opportunity to use my skills that I have acquired through my previous career. Although I’m happy in my current role, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I could offer more somewhere else. 

For days, I went back and forth, weighing whether to step out of my comfort zone, in yet another new job or stay put. I prayed a lot, seeking clarity and wisdom. I reached out to friends, and my sister who had been in similar situations, hoping they could help me find peace in whatever decision I made. Finally, I chose to apply, and not long after, I got the call for an interview.

The interview went well. I walked away feeling confident but unsure if this new path was what I truly wanted. Over the next few days, I was constantly wrestling with myself. Should I leave the job I like, where I know I could just be replaced with another person off the street for something that I am familiar with might be a more valued position. 

In the middle of this internal debate, I received a message from my sweet friend Jeanne. It wasn’t just a text—it was a video. As I watched it, tears streamed down my face. She had listened to her instincts and sent this video at the perfect time. It was a reminder of the impact I already make in my current role. Specifically, it brought me back to the time Jordan was in school. So many people had worked hard to make sure that Jordan’s time in school was as special and joyful as it could be. His time with us, though short, left me with memories that will stay with me forever. Jeanne walked with through my last career and after moving is somewhat unaware of what’s going on in my current job, so the fact that the video spoke to her about my previous job and spoke to me about my current job is a testament of God’s timing. 

The message I received through that video made me realize that whoever steps into my role might not understand the weight of what we do. Being a "teacher's aide" may seem small, but to the students with special needs who come through the classroom doors, it can be life-changing. I know that God has placed me here for a reason, and the relationships I’ve built with my students (and teachers her)  are precious. They are the reason I come to work every day, knowing that I can help create moments that matter.

So, today, I sent an email to the interviewer, rescinding my application. The moment I hit send, I knew in my heart it was the right thing to do. I’m incredibly thankful for the guidance that God provided through my sweet friend. It’s a humbling reminder that sometimes, where we are is exactly where we’re supposed to be. And that’s more than enough.

If you want to be blessed watch the video for yourself. 

Be blessed.

Forrest Frank for the WIN!

These past 25 days have been a whirlwind—full of change, challenges, and moments that have pushed me to my limits, physically, emotionally, and spiritually. It started with finally joining the rest of our family in San Antonio after two long weeks, giving Starla a much-needed break and helping her settle into her new home. But there was no time to catch my breath, as the next four days were a mad dash to attend convocation, teacher orientation, meet the teacher, and somehow unpack both my classroom and our house before the school year kicked off. Thank God for Jeannette, who swooped in to help, moving boxes of pictures on the floor to up to up on the walls making our house feel like a home, complete with pizza and a Dollar Tree scavenger hunt making the madness bearable.

And then, just like that, it was the first day of school. Michael's a junior now, Biscuit's stepping up as a freshman, Jaxon began Junior High as a 6th grader, Jett's in 2nd, and Maddie Jo is officially a kindergartener. Jeremy's new title is head baseball coach and CTE teacher, and I'm juggling my new position teaching EKG and phlebotomy, while also supporting Life Skills students at the Junior High. If you can't tell from the picture my classroom is pretty bare too. I hope to get some more things with time but here is my wishlist if you feel the urge to go shopping!  (Meagan's Classroom Wishlist) The start of this school year has been one of the toughest yet, but there have been bright spots—like the family coaching photos, afternoons at the neighborhood pool, fireworks in New Braunfels, and house warming gifts and birthday dinners with Jeremy’s parents.

We've discovered new favorites, like those Cosmc's drinks Jaxon hilariously called "moonshine" (it's "Moonlight," but close enough, right?), and I’ve been surprised by Biscuit’s dedication as the JV quarterback. There were beach days, quality time with Amber and Stephen, and celebrating Hunter’s birthday with swimming and cupcakes. A visit from Jamie, Chris and Hunter couldn't have come at a better time. But then, there was the heaviness of another birthday and Heavenday, remembering sweet Jordan. That weight is something I carry with me, even in the moments of joy and those that remembered with a text, call, card or cookie delivery, thank you. so. much. 

Maddie Jo’s surgery was supposed to be routine, just an outpatient thing, but complications turned it into a three-day hospital stay in Fort Worth. Those days were scary and exhausting. Seeing her need oxygen was new and terrifying, but she’s doing better now—still not 100%, but on the mend. 

The constant challenges over the last few weeks were enough to break me and it’s in those moments that I find myself shaking my fist at God, asking why He led us here, provided us with a handicap-accessible home, a job that aligns with the kids' schedules, only to let everything feel like it’s crumbling around me. Where are my people? The ones who get my sarcastic humor, who can make me laugh until I cry? Where are my Megan, Casey, Michelle, Stacy, Macy, Jamie, Laci, Kari people, the people that made hard things not so hard? It’s hard to feel happy without people to laugh with. What is my purpose? I'am not fulfilled when I don't know my purpose. Show me God, please! 

Every day has been filled with tension, like I’m bracing for the next issue. This blog post doesn't even begin to touch on the struggles. Stress, grief, fatigue—they’ve all frozen me in place, making it hard to even respond to a text. But my sister keeps checking in, nudging me until I finally respond. It’s been a rough road, and when people ask, “How are you doing?” I’m not sure they really want to know. I’m tired of feeling like I’m always complaining, but the struggle is real. And now Jay—who, a year ago, I couldn’t imagine living without—has left for college without a proper goodbye, and it feels like a punch to the gut. I had dreamt of taking him shopping for his dorm, but instead, it was just a Walmart pickup order sent to his new town while I was at Maddie's bedside at Cook Childrens. Everything feels so hard right now.

We’ve started searching for a church and found LifeChurch of SA. It’s close to home, and while it’s smaller and we are hard to miss with our crew, they’ve been so welcoming. Today’s sermon was on The Salt Covenant—God’s promise not to forsake us, even when it feels like the enemy is surrounding us. And believe me, these last 25 days, that’s exactly how it’s felt. The pastor reminded us that all we have to do is cry out to Him, and while I know that in my spirit, my heart has been paralyzed by the trials we’ve been facing. Last night, I woke up over and over, wondering how I can encourage others who are struggling. I can’t fix it, I can’t offer a guaranteed solution, but I can tell you this: You are not alone. And sometimes, that’s enough—especially when, like me, you feel really alone right now.

If you’re feeling surrounded by the enemy, I invite you to take some time and listen to the sermon we heard today here. You can skip the worship and the ending if you want, but I encourage you to listen to the message. It brought me some peace, and I hope it does the same for you.

As we begin week four of this new life in a new place, we’re trying to move forward with hope that the future will be better than the last few weeks. The house is finally unpacked, the garage is cleaned, and the yard is groomed. This weekend I met two special needs parents and was able to share about JPN and provide them with resources and supplies. We’re finding our rhythm with school, and Maddie’s nurse officially starts tomorrow. There’s a sense of settling in, and we have a trip to Morgan’s Wonderland on the horizon—a little something to look forward to. It’s been a challenging start, but we’re hoping that with each new day, things will get a little easier. 

I am a sucker for a good worship song to listen to on repeat for our morning commute and currently this is the anthem and after this mornings sermon we will crank it up and cry out to Him, declaring, "I'M BOUT TO HAVE GOOD DAY!" 

The mystery has been solved... and we are Mexico bound!

 A Mystery Donor and How God Met Our Needs for Mexico and Haiti

For the past few weeks, I’ve been stressed about the lack of funds raised for our mission trip to Casa Hogar Vision de Amor children's home in Acuña, Mexico. With a few people backing out of the trip, our fundraising efforts took a significant hit. Little did I know that the stress wasn't just on me but on another one of our team members, Kimi. As she prayed and asked God for help yesterday morning on her way to work, she felt in her spirit to fast until God revealed the peace she needed. She was obedient and fasted.

Switching gears to Haiti for a minute—if you haven't seen the destruction Haiti is facing right now, a quick search on TikTok will show you the devastating situation. Be warned, it’s bad. The feeding clinic there, which Joy Project Network (JPN) supports, is in desperate need of formula. I have the formula here in Electra, but the cost to ship it is not cheap.

Yesterday evening, around 10 pm, I boxed up all the formula, weighed it, and set it aside, not confident in shipping it until we had raised all the money for Mexico. Time was running out. Would we sacrifice items for Mexico or formula for Haiti? Both needs are equally important.

As I climbed into bed at 12:15 am, my phone dinged. I picked it up and saw that we had received a sizable donation via JPN's CashApp. I was confused because I didn’t recognize the name, and it was after midnight. The donation was the exact amount needed to fund the rest of the trip to Mexico, which would allow me to ship the items to Haiti. This can’t be real!?

I immediately texted a few people who might know the person. Interestingly, the mysterious donor and another team member share the same name, but that team member had no idea who this person was. I started to panic, thinking we had been scammed. CashApp instructed me to verify my identity multiple times, which felt strange too. I decided to unlink my bank accounts because the situation seemed too weird.

A quick Facebook search led me nowhere. A Google search revealed that the "mystery donor" was in Cyber Security. Cue the real panic. Kimi responded to my message about the mystery donor and found him. He was a real person. But how could he possibly know how much money we needed to fully fund our trip?

I checked out his mutual friends, and it turned out that another team member, Carina, had shared about our trip with the mystery donor. He generously donated the remaining money needed for us to complete our mission!

Through our mystery donor, we all witnessed the fruit of Kimi’s obedience, Carina sharing her heart with her friend, and the providence of God. The $2900 worth of formula can now be shipped to Haiti, and our trip to Mexico is fully funded. Through it all, God made a way for every need to be met, just like He promises.

We are in awe of how God works through the hearts of people and orchestrates events in ways we could never imagine. This experience has strengthened our faith and reaffirmed that when we trust in Him, He will provide for our every need. Thank you to everyone who has supported us, and to our mystery donor—your generosity has made a profound impact on both Mexico and Haiti and each member of our team! 

We are still in need of a few items from our Amazon wishlist. If you would like to help us finish our list off you can purchase items and have them sent directly to the children's home director. Shop our Wishlist! 

South Texas, here we come!!!

Are you surprised?!, if so, we're right there with you! 

We are headed south, a journey that is both exciting and nerve-wracking. We are stepping out in faith, trusting that this move across the state is part of a greater plan for our lives. While the thought of relocating again brings a mix of emotions, we are confident that the opportunities awaiting us in our new home will far outweigh the temporary stress of this transition.

One of the most significant benefits of this move is the improved access to healthcare and therapy for the Littles. Since December, they have been going without essential therapy, but living near a bigger city will offer a wealth of resources that will help them thrive. 

For Michael, the move will give him new opportunities to engage in activities that spark his interest. Similarly, Biscuit and Jax will have fresh opportunities to hone their skills, which is something we eagerly anticipate. Jay is eagerly awaiting his move to San Angelo and start his college career as a Ram in late August! 

The best part of our move is Jeremy's new role as the head baseball coach at Natalia ISD, a 3A school located 30 miles southwest of San Antonio. This position is not only a career milestone for Jeremy but also a source of immense pride and excitement for our family. The groundbreaking of the brand new baseball facilities is set for the first part of September and expected to be ready for the first pitch in the 2025 season! Jaxon keeps reminding us "this will all be worth it when we don't have to mow and water that field every single day!" We also look forward to being with familiar faces on the coaching staff. 

Leaving Electra, especially just seven months after our previous move, was not an easy decision. The hardest part of all is saying goodbye to my amazing job and coworkers, who have been a source of support and friendship and those that have loved our kiddos so well. Additionally, being farther from my sister and Granny Jo is a tough reality to face. However, the opportunities for our family are too significant to pass up and being just two hours away from Del Rio and the beach (and the Strealys) and Jeremy's family is a pretty big perk! We are excited about celebrating birthday and weekend getaways together. 

As we prepare for this new chapter in our lives, we are filled with a sense of excitement and anticipation. We trust that God is leading us on this path for a reason, and we are ready to embrace all the new experiences and opportunities that await us as Natalia Mustangs! If you have any questions, feel free to ask, however, in true Kirk fashion, I probably don't have an answer, all we know is that school starts August 5 and which highway to take to get there! 

Shock, Sadness, Devastation, and a Purpose

I had braced myself for the reality that awaited me, knowing that children's homes in Mexico would be vastly different from those in the US. But nothing could have prepared me for the overwhelming shock and heartache I felt upon arriving. We passed the concrete wall that barricaded the home and the 15 foot gate slammed behind us as we drove through. We emptied our car and children trickled out slowly, one at a time. The trauma and sadness etched into the children's faces spoke volumes, far beyond what words could convey. One of the teenagers, sat in the corner, never looked up as could barely even say her name, when asked. Their meek voices faltering under the weight of their past experiences.

 

The physical conditions were stark. With no air conditioning and only a few working fans, the heat was stifling. When I asked some of the kids what they wanted us to bring back, three of them said, "new pillows." Here in America, children would ask for the latest gadgets, air pods, or new TVs. Yet, these children, in their simplicity and need, asked for something as basic as pillows. My heart sank. The disparity in our worlds was laid bare in that moment.

Speaking with Irma, the director, through our translator, Melissa, my preconceived notions were shattered. Like many who come from fortunate backgrounds, I had assumed that toys, candy, and treats would top their wish list. I couldn't have been more wrong. She explained that what they really needed were lice shampoo, good deodorant, antifungal cream, Ziploc bags, and even loaves of bread. We went through their Amazon wish list, removing the unnecessary items and adding what was truly needed.

In our discussions, I suggested keeping bracelet kits for an activity for us to do during the Viaje Uno. Irma thought it was a great idea because the teenagers could make and sell them, earning their own money and learning how to budget and prepare for adulthood. She explained that when the children turn 18, they are released into the world to fend for themselves. Unlike in the US, where many high schools teach trades and skills, children in Mexico do not have such privileges. 

These children come from backgrounds of child abuse, abandonment, and environments rife with prostitution, rape, human trafficking, and drugs. The trauma they’ve endured necessitates that the girls and boys be separated most of the day, except during meal times and require constant supervision. I can't go into detail about their stories because they are not mine to tell, but believe me when I say they are far worse than any stories I've heard here, even after 12 years of fostering for Child Protective Services. From the moment we left until the moment we returned, I felt God’s protection and blessings on this planning trip. But after several hours at the home, I felt so defeated. How could we possibly make a difference with the few thousand dollars we had? The need was just so immense.

On my way home, I couldn't stop thinking about the dire needs Irma had discussed and how these teenagers would be sent into the world with nothing. The word "sustainability" kept echoing in my mind. How can we create something sustainable for the home? I don’t want to be part of a mission team that swoops in, brings toys and candy, and then leaves, only to return the next year. We need to make a lasting difference.

I'm still brainstorming and discussing possible ideas, but I'm thinking about building raised garden beds, bringing sewing machines to make pillowcases or curtains, or providing beads to make bracelets. My vision is to create something that lasts, something that will help these children and teenagers not just for a few days, but for years to come.

Please pray with me as we figure out how best to help these children and teenagers who have endured so much before finding Irma, and Casa Hogar Vision de Amor. Together, we can find ways to make a long-term impact and provide them with the stability and hope they so desperately need.

Navigating Fear and Finding Hope: My Journey as a Special Needs Parent at Awards Assemblies (Particularly at Electra ISD)

As a special needs parent, there's a unique blend of pride and anxiety that accompanies each milestone in my child's educational journey. Awards assemblies, in particular, stir a cocktail of emotions that few outside our community might fully understand. The experiences of the past linger in my mind, especially those painful instances when teachers seemed to intentionally exclude my child. These moments have left scars, making each new assembly a battleground for my nerves.

Today was no different. As I sat in the unfamiliar auditorium of Electra Elementary, my heart pounded as the general education teacher approached the podium. Memories of previous assemblies flashed before me—moments when my child was overlooked, despite their hard work and progress. I steeled myself for disappointment, fearing that history might repeat itself.

As the names were called in alphabetical order, my anxiety grew. With every "J" name announced, I inched closer to the edge of my seat. Our last name starts with "K," and as the last "J" was called, I braced myself. What if, yet again, my child was forgotten?

But then, the teacher announced my child's name. The rush of relief was overwhelming. I watched with tears in my eyes as my child, beaming with pride, walked confidently across the stage to receive their award. In that moment, every previous heartache seemed to fade into the background. The applause from the staff and students resonated deeply, a testament to the inclusive environment fostered at Electra Elementary.  

A few hours later, I attended the high school awards assembly, where Michael, my oldest attended. Though he’s not the most athletic kid, he played football for the first time this year at TLCA. Unfortunately, due to our school switch midway through the year, his athletic achievements went unnoticed. I braced myself for another potential disappointment, never expecting what happened next. Not one, not two, but three awards were given to Michael, including the Outdoor Education award, recognizing his dedication and hard work. As his name was called, a group of senior boys leapt up and started cheering for him. Soon, a chorus of over 100 students chanted "Big Mike, Big Mike, Big Mike." In that moment, a profound peace washed over me. The pain of his unrecognized athletic efforts melted away. I realized that recognition for one achievement does not measure his value. The enthusiastic cheers from his peers, his proud walk across the stage, and the acknowledgment from teachers and staff affirmed that others see and appreciate his quirks, his disabilities, and his friendship. His teachers recognized his dedication and perseverance.

Today was more than just awards assemblies. It was validation. It was a reminder that my children’s efforts are recognized and valued. I felt immense gratitude for the teachers and administrators who went above and beyond to ensure that all children, regardless of their needs, are celebrated.

Recently, I had been feeling particularly discouraged after Maddie's first ARD (Admission, Review, and Dismissal) meeting. The challenges discussed and the road ahead seemed daunting. I worried about her future and whether she would receive the support she needs to thrive. But today, watching my children being celebrated, my perspective shifted.

Today, I realized that my children will be just fine. The dedication of the Electra ISD staff and the kindness of their peers have rekindled my hope. Each assembly, each small victory, reminds me that we are not alone on this journey. My children are surrounded by a community that cares and champions their success.

As I look forward, I know there will be more challenges and more moments of doubt. But there will also be triumphs, like today, that will light our way. To every teacher, student, and staff member at Electra ISD, thank you. Your commitment to inclusion and recognition makes a world of difference. 

And to every special needs parent out there, hold on to these moments of pride—they are the beacons that will guide us through the toughest times. I know there are so many parents that don’t have this experience and that is not lost on me. If you are struggling with your school’s special ed program, I’ve been there, I know how hard it is. I know the pain and the heartache and times you’ve cried yourself to sleep. Don’t give up. Don’t lose hope. Keep praying for the right people to be placed in your child’s path. I pray for us too, often. 

We made it another year. 

Celebrate, celebrate your child AND you! 

I know how this story ends...

I've been wrestling with words for days, trying to articulate my thoughts, actions, and emotions. It's been a mental battle of whether to speak up or stay silent, and how to release myself from the grip of a situation that doesn't deserve my time or energy. Few things irk me as much as having my integrity questioned.

Last night, while reviewing numbers for future grant proposals, it dawned on me: I don't have to fight this battle alone. The war is already won. My worth isn't tied to others' opinions of me. I've often reminded others of this truth, even my own children, yet struggled to believe it for myself. If you're grappling with a similar battle, hear this: "GOD HAS ALREADY WON THE WAR!" That doesn't mean we can simply quit mid-battle, but it's a powerful reminder that the outcome is assured.

Do these reminders always come at the right time? Not necessarily. In fact, I could have used this reassurance three months ago, sparing myself many difficult days.

While many may perceive my life as chaotic, it's actually structured to manage the chaos. However, when one aspect falls into disarray, it impacts every other facet. I always understood this conceptually, but recent events drove it home in a profound way.

As some of you may know from following my journey, I embarked on a nursing position at Hospice of Wichita Falls, a dream fulfilled. But what I hadn't anticipated was the psychological toll of caring for terminally ill patients. Despite my initial readiness, the reality proved overwhelming.

In a matter of weeks, life threw multiple curveballs: my daughter started school with a new nurse, my husband was diagnosed with Type 2 Diabetes, my son faced health complications requiring surgery, and illness struck our household. Amidst this turmoil, I found myself confronting PTSD-like episodes triggered by the sight of morphine vials, reminiscent of past traumas. The dream job rapidly morphed into a nightmare.

Yet, amidst the chaos, there were moments of clarity. My supervisor's empathy, my husband's unwavering support—they provided a lifeline. With their encouragement, I made the difficult decision to step away from hospice care, recognizing that my well-being mattered.

Less than 24 hours later, an unexpected opportunity arose: teaching nursing classes at Vernon College. Despite reservations, I embraced this new path—and found fulfillment beyond expectation.

God has won the war.

In hindsight, I see divine intervention weaving through the chaos. With my family's health restored and a job I love, I've reclaimed a sense of peace. I can tackle household chores, set boundaries, and prioritize self-care.

Moreover, Jeremy and I are channeling our grief into something positive: establishing a nonprofit in our son's memory, the Joy Project Network. It's a testament to the joy he brought into our lives and a commitment to preserving his legacy.

God has won the war.

I'm reminded that amidst life's uncertainties, He will not forsake us. It's in letting go of what no longer serves us and embracing new beginnings. As I navigate this journey, I hold onto the truth that the war is already won, bringing solace amidst the chaos.

"I know how this story ends..." -Shane and Shane

For more information about Joy Project Network, please visit our Facebook page. 

If you or someone you know is having a mental health crisis or thoughts of suicide or harming yourself, call or text: 988. 

Embracing the Hospice Journey: Part II

 As I sit down to put my thoughts into words after a full week of training and orientation. I find myself on the cusp of a new chapter in my life—a chapter that is both daunting and incredibly rewarding. 

Today, I am thrilled to share the news that I have accepted a position as a nurse at the Hospice of Wichita Falls. The journey to this point has been a rollercoaster of emotions, but it feels like my "hospice journey" has come full circle, bringing with it a profound sense of purpose and fulfillment.

The decision to embark on this path was not an easy one. The mere thought of stepping into a role where I would be dealing with the complexities of life's end was intimidating. However, my personal experience with Hospice of Wichita Falls played a pivotal role in shaping my perspective. It was a journey marked by the unwavering support of incredible individuals—Nina, Jeannette, and the entire hospice team.

The journey began with the unimaginable: navigating through the final moments of my own son’s life. Our family found ourselves in the compassionate care of Hospice of Wichita Falls during the challenging times with Jordan. What was an overwhelmingly painful experience turned into something unexpectedly beautiful. Nina and Jeannette, with their empathy and professionalism, not only eased our pain but also helped us find moments of beauty in the midst of the profound sadness, in not just my experience but the experience of  43 other people that got to be a part of Jordan’s homecoming. Their dedication, coupled with the holistic approach of the hospice team, transformed the process into a profound and meaningful experience for everyone that night. It wasn’t until months later that I experienced the true essence of hospice care—an unwavering commitment to providing comfort, dignity, and support to both the patient and our entire family.

Now, as I take on the role of a nurse at Hospice of Wichita Falls, I am humbled and still find myself pinching to ensure that I am not dreaming. The opportunity to be a part of this ministry feels like a calling—one that beckons me to contribute to the legacy of compassionate care that touched our lives so deeply.

The road ahead will undoubtedly be challenging. The emotions that come with end-of-life care are complex, and each day will bring its own set of trials, which I will count it all joy. Yet, in the face of difficulty, I am fortified by the knowledge that I am not alone. After just a week of training I am confidant that I am part of a team—a family, really—that understands the importance of empathy, compassion, and the profound impact that genuine care can have on those facing life's final journey.

As I step into this new role, I carry with me the lessons learned during my own family's hospice experience. It is a unique perspective that fuels my determination to make a difference in the lives of others. The hospice journey has come full circle, and I am ready to embrace it, armed with the understanding that even in the most challenging moments, there is an opportunity to bring comfort, peace, and moments of beauty.

So here's to new beginnings, to embracing the unknown, and to being a part of something much larger than myself. I am filled with gratitude, excited for the journey ahead, and ready to make a meaningful impact—one patient, one family, and one moment at a time.

Just shy of five years ago I wrote an entry about our personal hospice journey in hopes to educate others, especially about Pediatric Hospice: http://meaganandjeremykirk.blogspot.com/2019/03/when-being-strong-isnt-enough-unspoken.html?m=1

Affirming Choices Through a Game-Changing Complaint

Recently, someone said, “The problem with Meagan is she wants to do mission work.” Those words lingered in my mind, making me ponder whether pursuing our purpose is truly a problem. Shouldn't using our gifts to further the Kingdom be our calling? 

In the quest to understand our life's mission, reflections become essential. Since facing the loss of Jordan, I've sought to embrace trials joyfully, and live by James 1:2-4. Even in the toughest moments, finding joy, however elusive, brings perseverance, a testament to God's faithfulness.

God spoke the word "International" to be several times over the last few months, leaving me uncertain of its meaning. While I secretly hoped for a physical move, God had a different plan, a surprising and amazing direction for our family. Despite not fully comprehending "INTERNATIONAL," I've learned not to hesitate when encountering international opportunities.

A recent Facebook scroll led me to a desperate post from a mother stranded in Mexico with her special needs daughter facing a critical health situation. 

Immediately, my mind raced, trying to figure out how I could help.

Here's the revelation: your purpose may be unfolding in your daily life, not necessarily in grand gestures but in meaningful actions aligned with God's plan.

Because I’m trying to obedient and my recent time spent  at the border the post caught my eye because she was in Mexico. 

Because of my job as an ED at a medical non-profit I am have developed friendships with 100’s of parents raising special need children and belong to SN parent groups everywhere. Which is how I stumbled on the friend’s FB post. 

Because I am a nurse and my knowledge in the medical field I knew how urgent the situation is. 

Because I am a special needs mom I know first hand the fear that set in when your child is sick. 

Now for the best part… 

Because I was a part time exchange student coordinator, 8 years ago, I met a teenage boy from Mexico, who is now a doctor, who I still talk too, and he was able to help me, help her, help her daughter. 

This incident affirms that every season of life has a purpose, contributing to a grander design. Mission work isn't always about crossing borders, feeding the hungry, building huts or installing water pumps, although all of those things are amazing and life changing; sometimes, it's about keeping your eyes open to opportunities right in front of you.

1 Peter encourages us to use our gifts to serve others. By not wasting our God-given gifts, we fulfill our purpose and contribute to advancing the Kingdom. Your mission may be unfolding in the ordinary, so hold on, for it might get wild, but it's undoubtedly part of a divine plan.

Remember, we are just in charge of obedience, God is in charge of the results.

If my problem is doing mission work I don’t mind having a problem.