My family lives in an expansive blue home we affectionately call our “beach house,” perched atop a hill with breathtaking sunsets. While it sits miles from the shoreline, the sandy landscape gives it a coastal charm that rivals the gulf view just 15 minutes away. After spending 11 years pursuing our dream of horse ranch ownership in Texas, we returned to Florida to be closer to family and the community that has long been part of our story.
At home, you’ll often find me snuggling with Delilah, my wrinkled English bulldog, or sitting cross-legged in my swivel recliner with a steaming cup of coffee in my “Don’t Wake the Bear” mug, savoring a quiet morning with Jesus before the day begins. While many assume I’m an extrovert, the writing life is often one of solitude—and it suits me well. With four boys filling our home with energy and noise, I’ve come to treasure the quiet moments, where I can tune out the chaos and let my fingers dance across the keyboard, turning everyday life into meaningful words.
My husband Eddy and I were married in a Texas barn, surrounded by our shared love for all things country. I arrived on horseback, wearing a western corset, red cowboy boots, and a matching jeweled belt, a wild bouquet of sunflowers in hand. As I walked down the center of the barn to the smooth sounds of Michael Bublé singing “Quando, Quando, Quando,” the moment felt nothing short of magical.
Our journey into fostering began with a quiet whisper that settled deep in my heart: legacy. What would we leave behind? Would it carry eternal value? Today, that legacy is found in raising four young men who are growing up rooted in a deep and abiding love for their heavenly Father. Each of our boys came to us between the ages of two and five, carrying stories marked by trauma—some more severe than others. Now, they are energetic middle and high schollers, full of life and very much “all boy” all the time. And while the days are full, falling into bed by 9 o’clock is still a regular—and welcome—ending for this tired mama.
Motherhood was never the dream of my heart as a young adult, so it’s no small wonder that I now find myself raising four children—especially when they first came to me as someone else’s. My passion has always been rooted in serving the vulnerable, which is what led me to foster care in the first place. Somewhere along the way, though, my heart shifted—and I fell deeply in love with children.
Foster care is hard work. It is often messy, unpredictable, and emotionally demanding. And yet, it is profoundly rewarding. There is a sacred honor in caring for children during some of the most traumatic seasons of their lives. Too often, people stay on the sidelines because the child welfare system is known primarily for its shortcomings. But my passion is to bring the focus back where it belongs—on the children. To tell their stories. To help you see what’s possible. And to offer this simple but powerful truth: you can be part of the solution.
Some are called to foster. Others are called to support those who do. But all of us are called to care for the children in our communities who need safe, loving homes. There is a place for you, and I hope to help you discover it.