Hello precious readers…
Welcome back to the beautifully wild, slightly sticky, always loud life we call home—otherwise known as living in the chaos with 8.5 kids and a pig. Yes…you read that right. No, I will not be explaining the “.5” at this time. We all have our secrets.
Before we get into the deep stuff, let me introduce you to our newest furry (and slightly feral) family member…
Miss Nola Jean.
Nola Jean is our bloodhound puppy, and let me just say—she is equal parts angel and tiny land shark. Imagine a baby wrapped in velvet with about three sizes too much skin, the softest ears you’ve ever felt, and a tail that stands straight up like a proud little flag anytime she catches a scent in the yard. That tail says, “I have no idea what I’m doing, but I am absolutely committed to it.”
She is precious. She is snuggly.
She is also aggressively committed to biting everything in a 3-foot radius.
We lovingly refer to her as Baby Shark, because she moves fast, chomps often, and has zero remorse. Pray for our ankles.
Now that you’ve met Nola Jean, let’s talk about something a little more meaningful…
the wall.
In our family room, there is a long wall that stretches the entire length of the space. It’s not fancy. It’s not perfectly styled. But it is, without question, one of the most important things in our home.
That wall holds nine 16×24 black-and-white candid photos—one for each of our children…plus one grandbaby (yes, ONE, and no, I am not old enough for that, thank you very much).
At first glance, it’s beautiful. Clean. Classic. Intentional.
But if you look closer…you’ll see it.
Tiny nail holes.
Little patches.
Places where photos used to be…before another one was added.
And those holes? They tell the real story.
Because behind every frame on that wall is a journey—
a story of love, perseverance, heartbreak, frustration with a broken system, patience stretched thinner than we thought possible, and a faith that had to grow roots deep enough to hold us steady.
Every time we added a child, we added another hole.
Another mark.
Another reminder that this life didn’t come together in a straight, polished line.
It came together in pieces.
In prayers.
In moments where we said yes when it would’ve been easier to say no.
And now that wall—holes and all—has become a bit of a conversation piece.
People walk in…
They stop.
They stare.
They start counting.
Then they count again.
“Wait…how many kids do you have??”
And we just smile.
Yes. Enough for a basketball team. Substitutes included.
And the question always comes…
“Did you always want this many kids?”
“Did you dream of having a big family?”
No.
I didn’t.
There was never a vision board with ten frames on a wall.
No carefully mapped-out plan for chaos, carpools, hospital visits, meal trains, muddy footprints, or pigs wandering through the house like they pay the mortgage.
This life…this family…this beautiful, overwhelming, loud, grace-filled story…
It wasn’t something I planned.
It was something I said yes to—one step at a time.
And somewhere along the way, all those yeses turned into this.
A house full of life.
A wall full of stories.
A heart stretched wider than I knew it could go.
So here we are.
Living in the chaos.
Holding onto grace.
Raising babies, chasing dogs, feeding a pig, and occasionally sitting still long enough to look at that wall and think…
Wow. God knew exactly what He was doing.
Even when I didn’t.
More to come soon, my friends…because with this crew, there is always more.
Love you all…send snacks 🤍