Over the past decade, we adopted five children out of the Kansas foster care system—each with their own unique blend of challenges: autism, cerebral palsy, fetal alcohol syndrome, complex PTSD, cognitive impairments, and critical medical conditions. They came to us with little background, incomplete medical records, and a long history of bounced placements and broken trust. They were labeled "hard to place." However, for Adam and I, the moment we received the phone call and accepted them they owned our hearts. 

​

Life with disabilities is not just different—it’s relentless. School systems often aren’t equipped to meet our kids where they are. Advocacy becomes a full-time job: fighting for services, pushing for IEPs that are actually followed, sitting through hours of meetings just to be told there’s no funding for what they need. You get used to being told "no" in a hundred different ways, and ou get used to people seeing the diagnoses before they see the person.

​

There are days when we feel invisible. Friends drift away. Invitations stop coming. Even within the disability community, the more complex the needs, the fewer the supports. There’s an emotional hopelessness that creeps in—quiet and persistent. A chronic sorrow that becomes your constant partner. It’s the weight of never being able to truly rest. It's grief. Grief for milestones never met, expectations that are constantly adjusted, and medical conditions that battle to determine the number of days a loved one has. It's the constant fight for services and crying in the shower so no one sees you. It's the constant rejection, even by people to take pride in saying they are "tolerant", or churches and organizations who profess to be "inclusive". ​Isolation doesn’t just happen—it grows. It’s the result of a world that isn’t built for families like ours, and furthermore, doesn't want to be. We try to build bridges, but often find ourselves on the outside, looking in. The journey we are on is littered with stumbles, dead ends, and rough pathways. This isn't to say that there aren't "glimmers" of unfettered joy, there are, but the chronic sorrow is always lurking in the background. 

​

In the midst of all this hardship, we’ve found something else. Something fierce and unshakable. Our children, though scarred, are survivors. They’ve taught us to reframe success: a word spoken, a new food tried, a full night’s sleep. They give a purity of love that hasn't been granted to them by many around them. We measure progress in inches, not miles. They have become our heroes and have taught us so much more about life than we could ever teach them.

​

We don’t share our story for pity. We share it because so many people and families live this quietly, unseen. And the truth is, the system needs to do better. Our churches need to do better.  All people who identify with having a disability deserve better, however, for many just the battle for basic human rights and dignity takes up their day. There are times when the chronic sorrow is so profound that it hurts more to dream of "better" than it is to deal with reality. People who identify with disabilities is the largest people group in the United States; additionally, they also rank the highest in suicide rates, divorce rates, poverty, discrimination, victimization, and lack of educational and employment opportunities.

​

To anyone walking a similar road: you’re not alone. Even when it feels like you are. You have people who see you, but more importantly, you have a God who sees you! Adam and I have dedicated our lives to advocating for individuals with disabilities and their families. I would like to say that need is only in the world around us, but more often than not, it is also inside the church walls as well. We share the Gospel of Jesus with authenticity. Never dodging the complex questions or painful conversations. Why? Because our family encountered a powerful God and a mighty Savior in the dark spaces of isolation and hopelessness that changed our lives forever, and if God can do that for us, we know that God can do that for you!