Kellie, Mom

This road is one I never imagined for our lives, but oh, what a ride it has been…

Before my husband and I were married, we talked about fostering and adoption in premarital counseling. We talked about what we thought our family might look like. Our dreams. Our hopes. We both carried a heart for adoption, though we had no idea how deeply it would collide with our future.

Six months after we married in 2005, we began growing our family. In June of 2006, our eldest and only biological son, Lukas, was born. Later, we would learn that his conception and healthy birth were scientifically miraculous. That knowledge brought us to a place of profound gratitude. We knew his life was a gift.

When Lukas was 1, we began trying for a second child. After nearly two years, we learned we were unable. But God had already been gently preparing our hearts. We had spoken about fostering and adoption before, and as we prayed, we felt peace that this was the moment to step forward.

While we were researching next steps, a friend I taught with reached out. Her sister ran a maternity home and had a woman in her care who was about to deliver twin boys, two babies who would need a family. Would we consider it?

It didn’t take long for us to shout yes.

Overnight, our eldest had two brothers, and our home was wonderfully full. And still, our desire never waned to care for orphans and widows, especially through foster care. But at the time, we lived in a small California home that legally prevented us from being certified. We believed the Lord had closed the door… or so we thought.

In 2016, an unexpected opportunity arose to move to Georgia. A home with more rooms. More space. More possibilities. We moved in June, began the certification process in July, were approved by November, and welcomed our first placement that February.

Since then, fourteen children have passed through our home over nine years. Some stayed for years. Some for a weekend. But every single one left a permanent imprint on our hearts and on our family.

We’ve built beautiful relationships with biological families. We’ve fought for reunification. Created safety plans. Partnered with grandparents. Flown across state lines to stay connected with children who were adopted by extended family. We’ve seen the sweetness, the goodness, the brokenness, and the heartbreak of the system.

And through it all, God has taught us how to love the vulnerable, support the unsupported, and empower those who need to feel seen.

As our family has grown, so has our desire to serve… not just inside our home, but alongside others who are answering the same call. As a family, we volunteer with Georgia Kids Belong because we believe fostering and adoption were never meant to be done alone. We want our children to see that caring for vulnerable kids isn’t just something we talk about, it’s something we live.

Especially at Christmas.

Christmas reminds us that Jesus came because the world was in need. He entered brokenness with humility, love, and purpose. Fostering and adoption matter deeply during this season because they reflect the very heart of the Gospel, opening our arms, our homes, and our lives to those who need to be wrapped in love and belonging.

Serving during Christmas isn’t about checking a box. It’s about posture. About teaching our children that generosity, compassion, and obedience don’t pause when life feels full or messy. They matter most then.

Our deepest desire has always been the same: to be the hands and feet of Jesus. To allow Him to reign and rule in our hearts and in our home. To love in a way that points back to Him and the hope He brings.

Today, seven children live under our roof. Yes… seven. Ages 2 to 19. Our family is complicated and hard to explain, but I’ve grown to love that. We keep people on their toes.

We have a 19 year old college student who commutes. Twin 16 year old boys in high school. Two sweet girls who spend their weeks with us as we co-parent with their mom, whom we dearly love. An 8 year old daughter adopted through foster care. And our newest little girl, who will turn 3 in January.

Our home is not quiet. It’s not free from drama or the effects of past trauma. But the God who created this family rules over it and through it.

On Christmas Eve, as we remember the waiting. And on Christmas morning, as we celebrate the birth of Jesus, the One who entered the world in vulnerability and love, we are reminded that we have never done this alone. He has always come alongside us. Comforted us. Instructed us. Provided wisdom and discernment exactly when we needed it.

And He always will.

This is our story. Rooted in faith. Ruled by grace. And forever held together by the One who first welcomed us in.