Chris coined the term “chill people” when we moved to Cape Town several years ago. We were not (and are not) “chill people” but seemed to live in a city full of them….

Somebody prayed for us today. I witnessed the proof through supernaturally joy-filled boys playing their ever-loving hearts out. It was a different kind of play. It was light... it almost made light.

Celebrations are the punctuation of life.

Mornings, evenings, weekends, months, and years whiz by like a dizzying run-on sentence. They can feel like they drag on and on. Then suddenly it's over, and you've missed the point.

For me, gathering around meals, birthday cakes, Christmas trees and midnight countdowns create causeways of remembrance. We create intentional spaces to look at each other, look back, give thanks, look ahead, and look around. I'll always do the extra dishes, spend the extra time, and go the extra mile to punctuate a life that sees, remembers, attunes and gives thanks.

Sometimes I worry about our "YES" to remain in South Africa.

Chris and I wholeheartedly know God has authored every step of our story, and we are right where we are supposed to be. It is our joy to love and lead Southpoint Church.

I worry about the repercussions of my kids growing up without their grandparents, cousins, and extended family members. I wonder what it's like for foreign soil to be your only familiar soil.

I took this picture of Wyatt for the boys in the background.

We've been in an extra-challenging season, learning to new sides of Benjamin's PDA profile of autism. I've been posting brotherly bonds and family adventures as a banner over us. We're still doing the things that matter. We choose these moments to mark us.

Benjamin lives with an unusual form of autism called Extreme Demand Avoidance.

Most people's primary drive is survival. Our brains will do anything to ensure we have food, water, and air. Benjamin, and kids like him, have a primary drive for autonomy and equality.

If you've followed along with us, you've probably read that Benjamin struggles with an unusual form of autism. We've developed a great support team in the last 12 months, but there is no better support system than his big brother. I just had to sneak a few pictures this morning of this unexplainable love in action.

I made an angel-friend last year. The kind of friend God sends to you when you need to be seen in a way you can't see yet. I would pump breastmilk in the car on the way to meet her, hold teeny-tiny Wyatt, and drink an extra large coffee while I sniffled and stammered about not knowing how to be a special needs mom. She was the one I could be very raw with and say I didn't WANT to be a special needs mom. I could ask the questions you're not supposed to have and feel all the feelings I didn't think I should feel with her.

I told my friends on the Help Club for Moms team that I was ready to start writing for them again…

Finally, it was two days before my first deadline, and my mind was still blank. On top of that, I felt completely overwhelmed by my own kids. I sent up a quick prayer for help as I dashed off to a play date that I was sure would be a disaster. IT WAS. Total disaster. But wouldn’t you know that my God met me in that mess?

My mom just spent seven glorious weeks with us in Cape Town. We said goodbye last night, and she is on a plane back to America now. Mom stayed in the apartment connected to our house, and Benjamin asked to go to "Gosa's house" every morning as soon as he woke up….

Happy New Year! To tell you the truth, I can hardly remember the last weeks of 2022. Wyatt got strep throat, a virus and then a sinus infection. I had mastitis. My mom came in town. And we moved! My 2022 ended at 10pm because I knew 2023 was going to start early, and I was already wildly sleep-deprived. But here we are now, all settled in to a beautiful place God has provided, cherishing moments with my mom, and enjoying a Cape Town summer together. We are healthy, and the small people are finally sleeping again.

There was a lot of a lot in 2022. Here's a "Year in Review" in bullet points!

If you read our last update, you might have seen that we are fundraising to buy a family van. What you might NOT have seen is my stomach lurching and face twisting when I asked our beloved friends, family, and people of the Internet for help.

We have been sustained as missionaries in South Africa by people's giving for almost thirteen years. THIRTEEN YEARS...

Kacy: "Hey Benjamin, do you think God gave you special powers?"

Benjamin: "YESSSS!"

Kacy:"What are they?"

Benjamin: "VEGETABLES!"

Welcome to the Ladd Family Update! If you're reading this, THANK YOU. We are so grateful for a relationship with you and a few minutes of your time. We hope to hear back from you and have an opportunity to invest in you - you matter!

Chris called me with a chuckle in his voice when he arrived at the church men's retreat to tell me he was bunking with Ted Mirtle. "TED'S MY MAN!"

Ted and Margaret Mirtle have been married for 58 years. Their hands and hearts are softened from years of praying together. We look forward to seeing their ever-bright smiles each Sunday morning for church.

Life has been eating my lunch. I’ve been one breath away from a breakdown as circumstances and needs with Benjamin have escalated…. and the rest of life didn’t stop to accommodate! I’ve seen the roughest edges and lowest lows within myself in the last weeks. It hasn’t been pretty.

Finally, last week, time stopped just long enough for me to ugly cry and write an unfiltered letter to God. I didn’t write it to publish but to clean it out of myself. But since wiping away the mascara smears, scooping up the baby, and carrying on with life, I’ve not been able to shake the feeling that I should share my very personal letter here.