I grew up in Birmingham, Alabama, the middle child of three girls. My parents were deeply loving people who not only provided for us physically, but intentionally modeled what it meant to live with genuine love—sacrificially serving others and bringing light wherever they went. They didn’t just tell us how to live; they showed us.
In 2001, my dad took a leap of faith and traveled across the world to India. My sisters and I were still young, and no one in our family had ever gone that far from home. But my dad felt God nudging him, so he went in obedience. His first day in India was July 8, 2001. He visited orphanages and slums and saw overwhelming need with his own eyes. His world was shaken. When he returned, he was a changed man, and the ripple effect on our family was profound.
A few years later, my parents made an unconventional decision. Instead of taking us to Disney World, they chose to take us across the world to India. They wanted us to understand that the world was far bigger than Birmingham, and that people everywhere mattered—even those living lives completely different from ours. So in June of 2005, our family of five boarded a plane bound for India.
I vividly remember arriving in Delhi in the middle of the night, driving down dark roads lined with hundreds of bodies sleeping on the streets. At just 12 years old, I was stunned, trying to process the reality that these were people with no homes and nowhere to go. It was a moment that forever altered my perspective.
We spent seven days visiting orphanages and slums, exploring landmarks like India Gate and the Taj Mahal, riding auto rickshaws, and eating endless plates of rice. We were confronted with immense need—but also with hope. As we sang songs alongside street children, a truth pressed itself into my young heart: You have been blessed to be a blessing. I realized then that the gifts I’d been given were not meant to be kept, but poured out for the sake of others.
When we returned home, we stayed connected with friends we had made in India. Though we lived in America, our hearts remained tethered there in ways we couldn’t yet fully understand.
In 2013, while studying social work at the University of Alabama, I was offered the opportunity to spend a summer in Nepal working with women rescued from sex trafficking. Memories of India flooded back, and the chance to combine my passion for South Asia, justice, and empowering women felt undeniable. In June of that year, my team and I boarded a plane for Nepal.
If India changed me, Nepal transformed me. I built deep relationships with 15 Nepali women—some as young as 13—who had endured unimaginable trauma. At times, my words felt inadequate, but God moved powerfully despite our limitations. Over that short summer, I watched these women rediscover joy, learn to play, connect deeply, and recognize their own beauty and worth. They learned to sew, earned certificates, and began to believe they mattered in a culture that had long told them otherwise.
I knew I would never be the same. The following summer, I returned as a trip leader. Life was uncomfortable—rice and lentils for every meal, sleeping on a wooden plank, no air conditioning, and a 15-pound weight loss—but it was more than worth it. Watching lives transform made it impossible to say no.
As graduation approached, I knew I wanted to use my social work degree to fight injustice and advocate for the vulnerable. An internship opportunity at Lifeline Children’s Services in Birmingham opened the door. After two months, a position became available for an international social worker in the Haiti program, and I applied immediately. In October 2014, I was hired.
Not long after, Lifeline began developing an India adoption program. Though the process was new, leadership asked if I would help pioneer it. I was stunned—and honored—to be considered, and I eagerly said yes, grateful to stay connected to the part of the world that had shaped me so deeply.
Around that same time, a new employee named Jeffrey joined Lifeline. I noticed him immediately—green shirt, khaki pants, kind eyes, and a scruffy beard. After confirming there was no ring, I gathered the courage to introduce myself. Six months later, he asked me on our first date and shared that he’d be leaving Lifeline to pursue a master’s degree. Though bittersweet, hope filled the space between us.
Our first date was in March of 2016, and everything fell into place. Jeffrey shared about his years spent in East Asia—learning the language, building relationships, and serving communities. Our shared passion for Asia felt like a long-lost connection. We were engaged in December 2016 and married in May 2017, stepping into marriage with excitement and faith.
In early 2019, an opportunity arose to move to South Asia with a humanitarian organization. Though everything seemed perfect, an unexplainable hesitation held us back. By September, we stepped away, uncertain but trusting.
Two months later, God provided us with a home—and with it, a renewed calling: adoption. In February 2020, we officially began the process of adopting from India, fully reliant on God to provide the $40,000 needed. Out of that faith came Wilder Way Threads, a vintage textile shop that unexpectedly flourished and helped fund our journey.
On September 1, 2020, exactly one year after stepping away from South Asia, we said yes to a 2-year-old girl in India. Her birthday was July 8, 2018—the same day my dad first stepped into India years earlier. We knew God was weaving something beautiful.
After months of waiting, we boarded a plane on February 3, 2021. Just four days later, in Maharashtra, we met our daughter, Eden. The moment our eyes met hers, love flooded our hearts instantly. She was ours—and we were finally a family.
