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 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.
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.
You might not see it yet. You might not feel it yet.
“That’s when the ground began to shift.”
Here’s to healing.
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