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.