Mia Robertson, the youngest daughter of Duck Dynasty’s Jase & Missy Robertson, has been born with a condition known as cleft lip and palate, a gap in the upper lip that can involve the gum as well.
The U.S. Centers for Disease Control and Prevention shares that about one in every 1,600 babies is born with a cleft lip with a cleft palate in the U.S.
Because of her condition, sweet Mia, who is now 18 years old, has been forced to undergo 13 surgeries, with the 14th taking place just recently. The family truly hopes this would be Mia’s last procedure before her problem is finally solved.
Throughout every surgery, the young girl remains positive. What’s most, she hopes she serves as inspiration for other young children who are born with the same condition. On her own initiative and with the help of her family, Mia established the Mia Moo Fund in order to assist in making certain that each and every child wears a smile on their face.
“One of the functions of the Mia Moo Fund is to spread awareness of the cleft lip and palate journey,” Missy Robertson told Christian Post. “The other one is to help with medical funds for the parents and the families living right here in America.”
On his podcast Unashamed, Jase Robertson shared an update on Mia’s condition and said that his daughter is recovering well.
“She’s doing great. She’s turned a corner,” he said, and then added, “Everything seems great, seems to be fine.”
“Surgery went a little longer than expected, but she is home and recovering,” the loving father told his podcast listeners. “Thank you for praying for her and for our family. She is a champion!”
Before the surgery took place, Missy spoke of her daughter’s condition and explained that she had been constantly asked about the number of procedures Mia would need to undergo in the future. “There is never any other response than ‘We just don’t know,’” Missy said. She then added that they rely on God for assistance. “Since she is 18 now, she is taking the lead in all the discussions and medical forms. It’s been a little strange,” Missy wrote. “But it’s just another reminder to lean on the Lord and that I’m not in control.”
Mia also hopes that she’s at “the finish line.”
“Hopefully the last time I’ll see my doctors in this setting! It’s been a long road but we are at the finish line,” brave Mia said.
The Robertson’s have also been preparing for a new addition to the family as they open the doors to their hearts and home for a child whose mother was unfit to take care of.
We wish Mia speedy recovery.
I Felt Disappointed That My Grandfather Left Me Just an Old Apiary, but My Perspective Changed When I Inspected the Beehives
My late grandfather, a master storyteller who spun tales of buried treasure, left me a rather unexpected inheritance: a dusty old apiary. It felt like a cruel joke at first. Who would leave their grandchild a shack swarming with bees? My resentment lingered until the day I finally ventured into the beehives.
One typical morning, Aunt Daphne urged me to pack my bag for school, but I was too busy texting a friend about the upcoming dance and my crush, Scott. When she mentioned my grandfather’s dreams for me, my frustration grew. I had no interest in tending to his bees; I just wanted to enjoy my teenage life.
The next day, Aunt Daphne chastised me for my neglect, threatening to ground me. She insisted that caring for the apiary was part of my responsibility. Despite my protests, I reluctantly agreed to check on the hives. Donning protective gear, I opened the first hive, my heart racing. A bee stung my glove, and for a moment, I considered quitting. But a rush of determination took over, and I pressed on, hoping to show Aunt Daphne I could handle this.
While harvesting honey, I discovered a weathered plastic bag containing a faded map. Excited, I tucked it into my pocket and raced home to grab my bike. Following the map, I pedaled into the woods, recalling my grandfather’s stories that had once enchanted me.
I found myself in a clearing resembling a scene from one of his tales—the old gamekeeper’s house stood before me, decaying but still captivating. Memories flooded back of lazy afternoons spent there, listening to his stories. Touching the gnarled tree nearby, I recalled his playful warnings about the gnomes that supposedly lurked in the woods.
Inside the forgotten cabin, I uncovered a beautifully carved metal box. Inside was a note from Grandpa: “To my dear Robyn, this box contains a treasure for you, but do not open it until your journey’s true end” Though tempted, I knew I had to honor his wishes.
After exploring further, I realized I was lost and panic set in. Remembering Grandpa’s advice to stay calm, I pressed on, searching for a familiar path. Eventually, I stumbled upon the bridge he often spoke of, but it felt further away than I had hoped. Exhausted and disoriented, I collapsed beneath a tree, longing for home.
The next morning, determined to find my way, I recalled Grandpa’s lessons as I navigated through the wilderness. I found a river but was startled when I slipped into the icy water. Fighting against the current, I finally managed to cling to a log, eventually dragging myself to shore.
Soaked and trembling, I rummaged through my backpack, only to find stale crumbs. When I remembered Grandpa’s wisdom, I used healing leaves for my cuts and continued onward, drawn by the sound of rushing water. I finally reached the river again, but the water was treacherous. Desperate, I knelt to drink, but the current swept me away, and I found myself struggling against the powerful flow.
Determined not to give up, I let go of my backpack but clung to the metal box. With sheer will, I fought my way to the bank, finally escaping the icy grasp of the river. I needed shelter, so I built a makeshift one from branches under a sturdy oak tree.
The next morning, I set out once more, the metal box feeling like my only lifeline. Memories of fishing trips with Grandpa warmed me, urging me forward. When I finally spotted the bridge, hope surged within me. But the forest began to close in around me, confusion and despair threatening to overwhelm me. Just when I thought I couldn’t go on, I found a clearing and collapsed, utterly spent.
Then, I heard voices calling my name. I awoke in a hospital bed with Aunt Daphne by my side. Overcome with regret, I apologized for everything. She comforted me, reminding me of Grandpa’s unconditional love and how he always believed in me.
As she reached into her bag, my heart raced when I recognized the familiar blue wrapping paper. It was an Xbox, a gift from Grandpa, meant to be given only when I understood the value of hard work. I realized then that I had learned that lesson, and the desire for the gift faded.
In the following years, I grew into my responsibilities, embracing the lessons my grandfather imparted. Now, as a mother myself, I reflect on those moments with gratitude. The sweet honey from my bees serves as a cherished reminder of the bond I shared with Grandpa, a bond that continues to guide me.
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