The Grafted Tree

The Story Behind “The Grafted Tree”

If we were sitting together at my old wooden kitchen table right now, I’d hand you a mug of something warm, brush the crumbs from between us, and start here: with why I named this little corner of the internet The Grafted Tree.

The name comes straight from the gospel, from Romans 11, where Paul talks about Gentiles being grafted into the olive tree of faith through Jesus — Yeshua. I’m not a theologian, and I don’t belong neatly to any one denomination or religious label. I’m just a woman who loves Yeshua and keeps coming back to the Bible, asking, “What is true? What do You actually say?”

That picture of being grafted in — wild branches joined to a living, rooted tree — has followed me for years. It’s the way I understand my own faith. I didn’t grow up knowing all the right words or belonging to the “insider” crowd. Yet somehow, by grace, I found myself held fast to Him, drawing life from a Root so much stronger than I am.

And then, God wrote the word “grafted” into our family story.

We have six children: two biological and four heartgrown. One daughter came to us from China. A sibling set and an eleven-year-old came to us through foster care. None of those stories were simple or tidy. They weren’t driven only by emotion or sweet adoption videos. We stepped forward because, as imperfectly as we heard it, we sensed a call from the Lord: “This is the way. Walk in it.”

Faith wasn’t a pretty bow we tied on the end; it was the map, the flashlight, and the hand we clung to in the dark. We wrestled, we questioned, we counted the cost, and then we opened our door again and again, trusting that the One who grafts branches knows how to care for every root and leaf.

Today, as my hair is graying and I reminisce, I realize we are truly a grafted tree. Children born from my body and children grown in my heart, all fully belonging. Different stories, different beginnings, same family name, same table, same Savior holding us together. No one is “half” anything here. We are, all of us, fully grafted.

The Grafted Tree is where I’ll share what I’ve learned (and am still learning) about adoption, homeschooling, homemaking, and all the big and small transitions of motherhood. Not from a place of having it all figured out, but as a fellow traveler who has logged some miles and has the mud-streaked jeans to prove it.

So, pull up a chair. You belong here, whether you’re an adoptive or foster mama, a homeschooler, or a woman just trying to sort out faith and motherhood in the middle of dishes and doctor’s appointments. My hope is that, as you read, you’ll feel a little less alone and a little more seen — like a branch that was always meant to be part of this tree.