Brionna Ariel Homan, Age 9 “Noble Lioness of God” 

Ezekiel Keefer Homan, Age 7 “Gentle Strength” 

Phoebe Joy Homan, Age 6 “Pure Joy.” 

Jedediah Jeremiah Homan, Age 4 “Beloved and Exalted of God” 

To my beautiful children,

Welcome home.

You represent the goodness of God to me. Your fingerprint smudges on my van windows are proof of His faithfulness. Your messy unmade beds, a reminder of His reality. You are the answer to so many prayers.

I am not sure there will ever be words to adequately describe how deeply and profoundly you are loved. Oceans are but a drop in the bucket. Mountain heights are not as far reaching. Go into the farthest regions of the universe and you have yet to come close to scratching the surface of it.

My love for you is vast and hard to define…and yet…it’s not even close to depth, width, and height of HIS love.

Oh, how I pray daily that you would know and receive HIS love most of all.

I pray you would see it in the way Daddy makes you giggle as he tucks you in at bedtime.

I pray you would see it in the way Mama holds you in my arms and kisses every scraped knee and sore finger.

I pray that in every word, in every action, and in every decision we make as parents – the love of Father God would be so evident and undeniable, that your heart would find it’s true HOME in Him. For this “adoption” is the most beautiful and life-changing of all.

I will fail you. He never will.

I will make so many mistakes. He will never make one.

Where man’s strength, wisdom, and abilities end…He is just getting started.

If I could give you anything in this life, my beautiful babies, I would give you Jesus.

“Christ with me,
Christ before me,
Christ behind me,
Christ in me,
Christ beneath me,
Christ above me,
Christ on my right,
Christ on my left,
Christ when I lie down,
Christ when I sit down,
Christ when I arise,
Christ in the heart of every man who thinks of me,
Christ in the mouth of everyone who speaks of me,
Christ in every eye that sees me,
Christ in every ear that hears me.” (St. Patrick)






So This Is Love


I can still picture it in my mind…Cinderella’s breathtaking ball gown gently swaying to the rhythm of the music as she was held securely in the arms of her Prince. Without one hair out of place, without one misstep, they gracefully moved across the dance floor as if they were meant for THIS moment. Lost in each other’s eyes, they found themselves out on the balcony of the castle before they knew it. Gone was the crowd. Gone was the ballroom. Only the song remained,

So this is love. So this is what makes life divine…” 

Oh, Disney…You had me at Prince.

As a child, I bought this love story hook, line, and sinker. I WOULD find a Prince. We WOULD fall in love in 5 minutes. We WOULD live in a castle of perfection basking in our perfect love and have the most perfect life EVER. THIS was love.

Oh, Disney…How wrong you were.

Fast forward to a 32 year old me, cleaning up my daughters puke in the middle of the night…and what do I hear, the Father God singing over me?

“So this is love…So this is what makes life divine…” 

Oh, what a laugh we had together – my Father and I.

He followed the serenade with a movie reel in my mind that proved better than any Disney Love Story.

My husband holding me while I cried on the floor of the hospital.

Midnight feedings of babies who hated sleep.

Loads and loads of Dishes.

Endless laundry piles.

Carrying for the sick. Puke buckets. Cold rags on the forehead.

Yesterday’s pajamas still on my body.

My husband telling me I’m beautiful in said pajamas.


It looked nothing like Cinderella’s love story…but it was my own..and it was beautiful.

So THIS is love.

Sure, there is romance. Sure, there is butterflies. Sure, there is memory-making and even moments that scratch the iceberg of perfection.

But at the end of the day…THIS is love…

It’s messy. It’s hard. It’s exhausting. It’s unselfish. It’s relentless. It’s enduring.

And it is so much more than a moment under starlight.

It’s a lifetime in the trenches… And it’s WORTH IT.

It’s found in a friend who offers to bring you anything you need at anytime of day or night to help you while you children are sick and your husband is away.

It’s a mom who stops over to bring medicine and doesn’t leave until she’s helped you finish your chores and get them all in bed.

It’s a sibling you know you can call on to pray or listen or cry with you or laugh with you.

It’s a husband who is faithful – in big and small ways.

It’s the mothers and fathers who have been caring for their sick children day and night over the past winter season…who have washed bedding, bleached toys, checked temperatures, and held their child’s hair back as they leaned over a bucket.

It’s the member of the church who comes every Sunday and serves joyfully in the children’s ministry.

Oh, Disney…there is so much MORE!

It’s not glamorous. But it IS glorious. 

“I’m all aglow and now I know, the key to all heaven is mine….this is the miracle that I’ve been dreaming of….so this is love.” 


Comment below with your “So this is love” moment…












Messy Beautiful

I decided to pick up my crotchet needle and attack some yarn again…and when I say “attack” I mean mangle, destroy, and mutilate a ball of yarn. Nobody – and I mean – NOBODY can do the kind of damage I can do with a crotchet needle.

I don’t mean to….honest! I have big dreams for myself.

In my dreams, I’m the mom pinned on everyone’s Pinterest holding my latest craft of sheer awesomeness with pride.


But in all reality…all I have to do is look at a ball of yarn and it tangles itself.

The farthest I’ve ever got on a crotchet project was a holey doll scarf. I thought it would fit one of my children…I was going to outfit them all for the winter and was pretty proud of my idea. My husband just nodded encouragingly as I told him my idea. But when I was done, it was one very small purple scarf with a big whole down the middle. (Don’t ask me how I did it…we may never know…but the fact remains, I did.)

I looked at my disaster with tears in my eyes and discouragement seeping into my once optimistic heart.

And then, my daughter – my Pollyanna who always sees a silver lining – took it from my hands and said, “Oh, Mommy! How did you know my doll needed a poncho?!”


She went on to play with it all day, moving it from one doll to the next – and I felt like a million bucks.

Until a few months passed and my husband ran downstairs to unclog an overflowing toilet…only to find the culprit, the SOURCE of this mess…was MY scarf, my “doll poncho” that had been flushed down the toilet by one of the boys!

“Never again,” I said as he pulled a sopping wet pile of purple yarn from the tank.


But then…

Time went on.

And I forgot the knotted yarn balls of my past and began to dream again of craft-glory.

And time after time, I’d try again, but get no farther than another holey doll scarf.


Now, I’m almost half-way through a blanket that is so beautiful, I don’t know that I will ever let anyone use it.

Oh, and when I say “beautiful,” you need to know that it’s code for “crooked, misshapen, and deformed.” BUT….it’s a legitimate misshapen blanket. And it feels warm and soft when it lays in my lap. The warmth reminds me, “I’ve made something because I didn’t give up…something actually usable.”

And the most miraculous part of this? Not one ball of yarn was hurt in the making of this blanket. NOT. ONE.

Every time, I look down at the blanket-in-the-making filling my lap, I find myself reminded of the power of NOT GIVING UP….and how thankful I am that God has never given up on me. 

I’m sure…I know for a fact…there were times, ARE times, it would be much easier to walk away, to throw in the towel, to move on to another more teachable child.

But no matter how many times I look more like a disheveled knot then a beautiful masterpiece, He untangles me. Unafraid, He reaches into my life and does what only He can do.

He is not intimidated by my mess. 

He doesn’t roll His eyes. He rolls up His sleeves.

And I wonder…what if we did the same? What if we REFUSED to give up?

On our crotchet dreams?

On the education God told us to go after?

On the ministry God birthed in our hearts to start?

On our marriages?

On our children?

On each other?

What if we were those who showed up – even when we didn’t feel like it? And who kept coming back – even when it was hard?

What if we were those who were quick to forgive and slow to run away?

Those who persisted? Those who finished what they started?

I’m determined to find out.

There are crotchet socks in everyone’s future. =)








If You Give A Mom A Sock

The last time they went back after our adoption visit, I found his sock on the floor. One tiny, faded sock.

I picked it up. Held it in my hand. And pictured the boy who wore it. Oh, how I missed him…how I ACHED for him.

It’s been over 10 months since I first saw their pictures and began this journey of falling in love. From the first time I saw them, I knew – THIS was it. These were our children. I stared at the pictures over and over again every single day until we finally met for the first time.

And since then, we’ve had visits. Starting with a few hours and expanding to weekends and holidays…and this time, a whole week.

And now that I’ve met them, that I’ve said their names aloud, held them in my arms, felt their skin against mine…now that there are places for their shoes in coat room and beds they sleep in when they are here…now the missing has become a deeper sense of loss each time they leave.

When they aren’t here, I make extra plates for lunch.

When they aren’t here, I keep looking for their faces in the rear view mirror as I drive.

When they aren’t here, I still listen for their laughter.

Part of us is missing…and we feel it in every moment.

We cling to our “Forever” on the horizon – a forever in which we will never have to say good bye.

And until then…

If you give a mom a sock, chances are she will want the boy who goes with it. 



Bitter Sweet Tears

I’ve never been one to be good at hiding my emotions. I wear my heart on my sleeve. I feel deep. Tears are easy for me. They can well up at any given moment for any given reason – good or bad. For this reason, my children have labeled me the “weeper.” Bless their hearts.

Over the past week, as we’ve searched for our rhythm as a family with 14 children (with a lot of trial and error, mind you…oh, the stories I could tell…), I found myself often trying to button a coat or find a lost sock through the blur of unrestrained tears. I can’t put into words what my heart feels at the sound of their voices running towards me calling my name, “Mama! Mama!” 

What a gift! What an overwhelming privilege!

And with the reality of this, comes the tears – the good ones. The kind that spill out of a heart so full of love, it couldn’t keep it in. They fall freely, unashamedly, and often make way for even more. I am blessed.

But then…there are the other tears. The tears I cry at night after they’ve went to bed. Tears of exhaustion. Tears of pain. Tears of intercession. These tears are often cried right here over the keys of my computer as I pour out my truth on this blog or over the keys of my piano where I find a melody and lyric that speaks to where I am in that moment. They have been puddled on my wood floor, where I’ve knelt in prayer – not because I was being super spiritual, but because I didn’t have the strength to stand. They’ve drenched my pillow, mingled with the water in my shower, and found residence on the shirt of my husband as he’s held me close.

And I’d be lying if I didn’t say some of “those” tears haven’t been shed this week as I’ve tried to figure out this “mom of 14” thing.


“Weeping may endure for the night, but joy comes in the morning.” 

Joy comes.


What I’ve learned is that my kids aren’t afraid of my tears. And neither is God. 

Psalm 56:8 says, “You keep track of my every toss and turn through the sleepless nights, Each tear entered in Your ledger, Every ache written in Your book.”

I’ve learned that God wants to be part of ALL of it – the good tears and the bad ones, the laughable moments and the heart-breaking. He’s not afraid. He’s not shy. He’s not a fair-weather Father

And He actually LIKES being a part of my life. He LIKES being there with me – in the beautiful moments and the ugly ones, making “all things work together for my good.”

He even promises not to leave me or forsake me…no matter how terrifying my mascara-streaked face looks.

He is IN this WITH me.

Emmanuel, GOD WITH US. 

And He loves me just as much when we “good cry” together as when we “ugly cry.” It NEVER changes.

Breathe that in, tonight.

And then…get real with Him.

Get ugly with Him.

Don’t be afraid.

Don’t hold it in.

Let Him have it.

And just see what He will do with it!

He who turns the bitter into sweet. (Exodus 15:22-26)








Three Scars





If I close my eyes, I am still there,

Sitting 27 days in that hospital chair.

His lungs collapsed, they found a clot

Between heart and brain – the very worse spot.

“If it moves either way, that will be the end….

I’m not sure he will ever breathe alone again.”

Each report less hopeful, there was no suprise

When they took us to the room reserved for good byes.

And I watched the machine fill up his chest,

Then I did the one thing that I know to do best…

I sang.


I sang over him every lyric and line,

Songs of worship and hope, and love so divine.

And as they counted down to start the new year,

You could hear my hoarse voice amid all of the cheers,



And now five years later, he is joining the song.

Happy and whole, independent and strong.

Three scars still visible under his ear,

Reminders to me that my God is near.










“Surely there is a future and your hope will not be cut off.”

Proverbs 23:18

Surely there IS a future…Oh, how I have been clinging to those words this past month.

This part of the adoption journey is hard. 10-12 hours in the car each weekend driving to pick up and return our children after weekend visits…making dinner on my lap as we drive down the highway…missing them – ACHING for them – while they are away…trying to hold it together while they cry that they have to leave…consoling our other children who “just want to have them here forever.”

I have cried so many tears the past few months. Tears of joy, tears of exhaustion, and tears over empty beds I wish were filled with the soft skin and round cheeks of our newest Homanites. It’s hard to be in this place in between the beginning and forever. This middle part – this part is HARD.

And through my tears, I tell my heart this verse over and over again. “Surely, there IS a future…” 

The God who promises His plans for me are for GOOD (Jeremiah 29:11), who promises to GO BEFORE ME and GO WITH ME EVERY STEP OF THE WAY (Deuteronomy 31:8), and who CANNOT LIE or change His mind (Numbers 23:19) is MY HOPE.

This isn’t where the story ends. 

There IS a future.

In the book of Acts, a lame man (lame since birth) sits at the gate begging for coins. Peter and John see him on their way to pray and Peter tells him to look up at them. And when he does, the Bible says, “He focused his attention on them, expecting to receive.” 

This past week when I read this story, something exploded inside me. Like a volcanic eruption bubbling to the surface, words bubbled up within me and could not be controlled. “THIS is how I will enter 2018,” I said into the empty room, “With my attention on Jesus, EXPECTING to Receive.” I realized as soon at the words were spoken, that it wasn’t just how I wanted to live 2018…it was how I wanted to live the REST of my life. Focused on Jesus. And full of expectation.

There IS a future. 

It’s NOT over. 

May your heart come alive with this truth tonight.

We have a reason to HOPE.

SURELY there IS a future!