Hi, I'm McKinley.
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I’m married to a strapping man in uniform who serves in the U.S. Air Force. His name is Daniel. We met in college at a Gun Club, because like any good southern couple, that is where romances are made. We shot our way into each other’s hearts (pun very much intended) and said our vows in 2008. He commissioned in the United States Air Force the day before our wedding and our lives have been overseen by Uncle Sam ever since. The military life is an uncertain one, but it is filled with great adventures, friendships, and joy. We are beyond blessed to serve alongside some of the greatest men and women in our country. We play the role of Mom & Dad to three wild, rambunctious, and spirited boys - Britton (7) and Beckett (5) and Boone (1). Britton has been preparing for the NFL since he was born and is the top seven-year-old linebacker recruit in the country. This trait doesn’t always serve him well during first impressions since “introductory pushing” isn’t acceptable behavior in civilized circles. However, Britton’s physicality is paired with an unbelievable memory and an uncanny sense of humor that will leave people laughing (or justifiably offended). He is a fun one to play with, but a tough one to parent, dear friends. Beckett is my precious, but fiery, little babe. He’s always down for a snuggle, but will throw an Oscar-worthy fit when he doesn’t get his way. Boone is the most durable baby to ever meet this earth. He is undoubtedly the best gift I've ever given his older brothers and they enjoy every giggle Boone gives them. Our boys are the most precious and most terrifying gifts God has ever given us, but we are incredibly grateful that He entrusted them to us. In December 2015 we felt God calling us to care for orphans as James instructs us in James 1:27, and so, we became foster parents. We have cared for a number of children in our home over the last few years and are grateful for each child we've been able to serve. We also care for two 4-legged fur babies of the canine variety, who keep all of us sane on a daily basis by doling out their unconditional love. Max and Bella are real gems. |
Little college babes at the gun club. Nothing like the smell of gun powder to spark a romance.
This is my life. High-flying, big smiling, but always a little on the edge.
The always sane, aways loving, always compassionate wonder dogs.
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Oh and lastly, there is one other thing I should probably tell you: I have a secret.
Don’t tell anyone, but I am a bit of a hack. I really have no business writing words. I am a left-brained, linear thinking math major and my world has never been about THE WORDS. I find joy in Excel spreadsheets, a trigonometric proof, and a well-constructed quadratic equation. I love objective responses and factual reasoning. Words are so NOT my jam. They are messy and multi-faceted and utterly confusing at times. They can take on hundreds of different meanings and live like chameleons – changing their tone and color to fit the context. Words live in this wonky gray area that is just so far out of my comfort zone. But, dear reader, the words and I are slowly becoming friends, not because I love them, but because I need them.
Not everyone is down for a mathematical jam session to explain the secrets of life and parenting. That sounds just…so…lame. Consequently, I found that the words were all I had left to make sense of this parenting journey. My left-brained comfort zone started to dismantle because parenting is very much a right-brain activity. It is intuitive and random and subjective and holistic. It cannot be explained through objective, logical and sequential decisions. In other words, parenting is a crapshoot. For me, it’s a prayerful crapshoot that often leaves me in a total surrender because I have JUST. HAD. ENOUGH. I realized very early on these children were not my own, so I’m finding joy in the mess and beauty in the craziness because God is the party planner, and I’m simply a guest (who just so happened to bring the kid that dropped his pants and peed in the backyard). The good news is you’re invited to the party, too. So come on back it’s going to be a roaring good time.
Don’t tell anyone, but I am a bit of a hack. I really have no business writing words. I am a left-brained, linear thinking math major and my world has never been about THE WORDS. I find joy in Excel spreadsheets, a trigonometric proof, and a well-constructed quadratic equation. I love objective responses and factual reasoning. Words are so NOT my jam. They are messy and multi-faceted and utterly confusing at times. They can take on hundreds of different meanings and live like chameleons – changing their tone and color to fit the context. Words live in this wonky gray area that is just so far out of my comfort zone. But, dear reader, the words and I are slowly becoming friends, not because I love them, but because I need them.
Not everyone is down for a mathematical jam session to explain the secrets of life and parenting. That sounds just…so…lame. Consequently, I found that the words were all I had left to make sense of this parenting journey. My left-brained comfort zone started to dismantle because parenting is very much a right-brain activity. It is intuitive and random and subjective and holistic. It cannot be explained through objective, logical and sequential decisions. In other words, parenting is a crapshoot. For me, it’s a prayerful crapshoot that often leaves me in a total surrender because I have JUST. HAD. ENOUGH. I realized very early on these children were not my own, so I’m finding joy in the mess and beauty in the craziness because God is the party planner, and I’m simply a guest (who just so happened to bring the kid that dropped his pants and peed in the backyard). The good news is you’re invited to the party, too. So come on back it’s going to be a roaring good time.