As told by Anna Amy, Housing Director, Hastings Senior Health & Living

Here’s a hard truth about nonprofit work: there’s never quite enough money to meet every need or bring every dream to life.

Care Center Administrator Kim Szymanski and I often talked about the things we wished we could provide for residents. At the top of that list was replacing our ancient, failing bus.

A new bus would cost around $130,000—far beyond our budget.

Megan, Philanthropy Director at the Cassia Foundation, helped us imagine what fundraising could look like. She assured us people would care enough to help if we simply asked.

Her confidence was contagious, even as I nervously worried people might doubt our needs or think we were asking for too much.

Still, we moved forward with modest expectations, hoping at least for enough funds to purchase a dependable used bus.

What happened next surprised us all. Generous people began showing up—and not just for the bus. Something deeper was taking root.

A phone call and a legacy

Early in the campaign, I received an unexpected call from John, the son of a resident, David Word, who had passed away. David left us a gift in his will—something I never expected but was deeply honored to receive.

David and his wife, Eileen, loved spending time together soaking up the sunshine in our backyard, and his gift allowed us to transform that space.

It started with a beautiful pergola, picnic tables and expanded flower beds. That inspired resident John Diischer to provide additional  furniture for all to enjoy.

That gift showed me something profound: generosity was already part of this community’s story. We just hadn’t asked for it before.

Honoring what matters most

Around that time, a family I knew well was in town visiting their mom. I expected we’d talk about the bus.

It became clear that the bus wasn’t the need pulling at their hearts. Our conversation kept returning to food. Their mom often provided detailed reviews of her meals, in true Midwestern fashion, and they hoped dining here could feel more like a true restaurant experience.

Obstacles stood in the way. Our building depends on the care center kitchen, so meals must be planned ahead. Still, we wondered what might be possible.

We found a cutting-edge ventless oven that could give residents more choice and flexibility. The family joyfully donated $12,000 to make it happen. Today, residents enjoy more options that bring agency and joy. As resident Margaret told me, “Choices give us a feeling of independence.” That line has stayed with me.

This gift showed me people are moved by different needs, and that’s a beautiful thing. When we listen closely and invite people to support what matters most to them, generosity takes shape in powerful ways.

The bus we built together

Even so, I couldn’t have predicted the overwhelming support for our bus campaign.

Our very first gift came from a long time resident before we’d even officially asked. Then 47 others joined her. Many who couldn’t give financially encouraged loved ones or connected us with community leaders who could.

Our local Power of 100 group selected us as their Impact Award winner, bringing in almost $25,000 through the combined generosity of nearly 200 women with a matching grant.

Businesses, churches, families, the VFW and our own staff stepped in. In just over a year, 324 donors gave $130,351—enough for a brand-new bus.

When I saw it pull up for the first time, I felt a lump in my throat. It wasn’t just a bus—it was proof of what can happen when a community believes in something together.

What’s growing here

Looking back, I understand now what began to grow here.

David’s legacy gift helped me see that generosity often begins quietly, long before anyone names it. People find deep joy in giving back to places that once blessed them.

The family who made the improved dining experience possible showed me the power of listening closely. When we take time to understand someone’s heart, generosity can take shape in unexpected and creative ways.

And the bus campaign showed me what can happen when we talk openly about real needs. Sharing that need didn’t create generosity from nothing. It simply gave what was already there room to grow.

I’ve come to see this is Holy Work. Not because of the gifts themselves, but because of the care, listening and love involved. Hastings Senior Health & Living feels different today. More connected. More hopeful. More alive.

I’m grateful to have witnessed how generosity can transform us in surprising ways, and I’m excited to see how it continues to grow.