Annie Louise Foundation Hill Country Flood Relief Visit
When the News Stopped Covering the Flood
“Honey, the news has stopped covering what is happening in the Hill Country, so please call me when you get down there and let me know.”
— Call with my dad, July 22
It’s been six weeks since one of the most devastating natural disasters in Texas history hit the Hill Country, flooding communities along the Guadalupe River and changing lives forever.
The purpose of this blog is twofold:
To share how the Annie Louise Foundation dispersed funds specifically donated for flood relief.
To reflect on what we learned from the families and organizations we met — and how you can continue to help.
July 4th: The Day It Began
On the morning of July 4th, I called my sister to ask a simple question — but she answered through sobs, pleading for prayers for her friend, Katie Baker. Katie had dropped her daughter Mary Grace off at summer camp just days before, and now... they couldn’t find her.
It was a horrible, uncertain day. We all remember it: the chaos, the false information, the desperate prayers, the waiting. We clung to hope — even as the news began to fade away.
Raising Awareness, Then Raising Funds
As I shared real-time updates on Instagram, I realized just how few outside of Texas knew what was happening. In fact, many official sources shared incorrect information — adding confusion to heartbreak.
Then came the question, over and over: "Where can we send money to actually help?"
At first, I didn’t have an answer. But soon, with my co-founder Katie Senter, we launched a dedicated Flood Relief Fund through the Annie Louise Foundation. And you responded — generously, quickly, powerfully.
Special thanks to Kelsey Doolen and her Dallas business, Down to Play, for launching “Monday for Mystic,” which raised nearly $4,000, inspiring over 20 local businesses to follow suit. Collectively, the twenty businesses brought in a total of $16,272.
Thank you to:
Down to Play, Short Stop Food Snider Plaza, inLife Wellness Snider Plaza, Susan Roberts Gifts, For Heaven’s Sake Snider Plaza, Cotton Island Snider Plaza, Half Shells Snider Plaza, Cerulean Gallery, Banditos Tex Mex Snider Plaza, Zest Café, Maria Andree Boutique Baker Snider Plaza, Christy M Boutique Snider Plaza, Foxtrot Market/Further Point Acquisitions Snider Plaza, Image Eyewear Snider Plaza, Serving Life Chiropractic Snider Plaza, Park Cities Postal Service Snider Plaza, Ember Medical Spa Snider Plaza, Body Lounge Park Cities Snider Plaza, E.G. Geller Shoes Snider Plaza, Laser Lounge Dallas.
From Fort Worth to the Flood Zone
We knew we had to go.
Thanks to a friend of ours (whose daughter attended Kinderfrogs with Annie), we connected with local families in Kerrville, Ingram, and Hunt — identifying needs in real-time. We filled our car with supplies, gift cards, clothing, and LMNT.
A kind woman on social media connected me with LMNT, and the company generously donated 2,500 individual electrolyte hydration packets. At the time, I wasn’t exactly sure how I’d distribute them — but I knew they’d be needed. From there, I began coordinating with each family, mapping out our entire visit, and carefully packing the car to make sure every item had a purpose and a destination.
Our new ALF intern, Cooper Moog, and our talented graphic and web designer, Alisha Leach, joined us for the trip — and having them there made it all the more meaningful. Cooper and Alisha managed to get our first official ALF shirts printed in under 24 hours, which was no small feat and honestly kind of heroic. We loaded up and hit the road, arriving in Ingram late on the night of July 22nd, ready to give everything we could.
We were generously offered a place to stay by the Lehmanns — another incredible Trisomy 21 family local to Ingram. As I reflect on the journey, I’m overwhelmed by how beautifully God wove everything together: the funding support through Kelsey, the critical information from Chris, and the warm hospitality from Brittany. All of it — every connection, every act of kindness — came through three little girls who share an extra chromosome and brought these families into our lives. It’s nothing short of divine orchestration.
The Devastation We Witnessed
After picking up a few H-E-B grocery gift cards for families, we made our way to Brittany’s property. The bridge to her home had been washed out, so we had to find an alternate route. I had tried to prepare my mind and heart for what we were about to see, but no amount of preparation could have readied me for the reality of the devastation.
As we finally found the right road, we had to cross directly over the Guadalupe River. We drove slowly past riverfront homes — completely destroyed and eerily vacant. None of us spoke. The silence felt sacred.
When we began to cross the river in total darkness, my stomach turned and my heart raced. I looked to my left and saw nothing — just black water stretching into more blackness. I hesitated to even include this part, but I feel it's important. For those who will never see it for themselves, maybe this will help convey the severity of what happened. There were no lights, no sense of safety — only the echo of what once was. I imagined the force of the water and the chaos of the storm. And I prayed — for the healing of those who survived, and for the eternal peace of those now in heaven.
Later that night, as we settled into our bunks in Brittany’s guest house, a storm rolled in. Lightning flashed again and again, illuminating the sky. My mind, already overwhelmed, spiraled. I felt afraid — and I’m a 35-year-old grown woman. That moment broke me open. It humbled me deeply, just hours before our day of work would begin.
A Day of Giving: July 23
We began our day with a quick stop at Lift Coffee. The drive from Brittany’s was only about ten minutes, but seeing the destruction in the daylight was gut-wrenching. What we had passed in darkness the night before now stood in full, heartbreaking view.
As we arrived, a group of firemen walked in just ahead of us. We struck up a conversation and learned they were on a month-long assignment from Midland, TX. We covered their coffee and asked if they’d be willing to take the LMNT hydration packets back to their firehouse. Without hesitation, they said yes. Four firemen, four boxes — a smooth and meaningful handoff.
It may seem like a small moment, but to us, it was a sign that the day was already unfolding with purpose. Getting those supplies into the right hands, so effortlessly, felt like a quiet blessing — the kind you don’t forget.
We also opened a running tab so patrons could enjoy free coffee until the funds ran out. It felt like a simple way to wrap the community in a small act of love — like giving air hugs to strangers who needed a little warmth that day.
We still had a large duffle bag filled with beautiful children’s clothing that hadn’t yet been designated for any specific family. As we brainstormed how to get it into the right hands, Alisha had a great idea: check to see if Kerrville had a pregnancy center. Maybe they could distribute the clothes to families with older siblings in need.
Sure enough, we found the Pregnancy Resource Center of Kerrville — and walking through those doors felt like another divinely timed moment. We shared why we were in town, and two incredibly kind women, Lainie and Sylvia, welcomed us with open arms. We brought them out to the car to show them the clothes, and their eyes lit up at the sight of the beautiful pieces donated by our local boutiques and designers. It was another one of those sacred pauses in our day — a moment where everything just clicked and felt covered in grace.
A huge thank you to Collins & Conley, Poppy Kids Co., Ruth & Ralph, Blue Quail Clothing, and Bow Next Door for donating such beautiful items. It’s so special to imagine little ones in Kerrville wearing clothes that came with love from Fort Worth. And how amazing that each of these incredible women business owners came into my life because of Annie girl.
The Griffins: A Life-Saving Story
Next, we headed to Hunt to meet Lori Griffin. We had spoken for about 30 minutes on the phone after Chris shared her number with me, and I was genuinely looking forward to meeting her in person.
The drive from Kerrville to Hunt was where the true magnitude of the flood damage came into view. It looked as if a massive tornado had carved its way along the winding river, wiping everything clean in its path. Entire groves of trees — gone. The land left raw, stripped bare. The trees that did remain told their own story: water lines high above our heads, marking just how far the river had risen. It was hard to take in — you find yourself craning your neck upward, trying to make sense of something your brain isn’t wired to comprehend.
Along the roadside, there were thousands of piles of wood and debris, stacked and waiting. Only later, after talking again with Chris, did I learn that those piles couldn’t be hauled off until official processes were in place to do so. It gave me a deeper appreciation for the timing of our visit — 19 days after the flood. It turned out to be a grace-filled window: soon enough to offer help, but not so soon that we were in the way of active clean-up crews.
As we drove, I couldn’t stop thinking about the sheer manpower it must have taken to clear those roads, gather those piles, and clean out the riverbed. Thousands of hands must have been involved in that effort — and I kept wondering what this place must have looked like in those first days, before order began to return.
We had to pass through two police checkpoints just to reach the Griffins’ property — a sobering reminder of how serious the damage truly was. Before we arrived, Lori had texted me: “There’s a big dump pile, a Texas flag, and a broken-down rock entrance… what a way to describe where you live.” I cried when I read those words. In that single sentence, I could feel her trying to process the weight of her trauma — the heartbreak of seeing your home reduced to landmarks of destruction — even before we had met face to face.
When we found Lori, we hugged like old family friends — the kind of embrace that carries both warmth and understanding. As we climbed into her car, I kept thinking, “Wait… have I met her before? I haven’t, right? It just feels like I have.” That instant connection was something rare and beautiful.
Words will never fully capture the beauty and uniqueness of their property — land that has been in her husband’s family for an astonishing 125 years. As we drove along a towering bluff — a solid wall of ancient rock — toward their home, we were in awe.
The best way I can describe Lori and Grant is this: if you asked AI to generate “the most Texan Texans,” it would give you them. From their accents to their grit to the way they carry themselves — they are pure, proud Texas through and through. But beyond that, they make you wish you were part of their family. The way they speak about their kids, grandkids, and lifelong friends is filled with such warmth and pride, it wraps around you like a hug.
Lori shared how she and Grant first met in Kerrville — how he was the older, handsome guy who caught her eye. It was the sweetest love story, told with a sparkle in her voice.
Lori took us on a walk through the property and began to share how everything unfolded. Her birthday is July 3rd, and the night before the flood, they had been celebrating with family. Her daughter, who is in college, happened to be home with her boyfriend — thank God.
The storm hit just a few hours after everyone had gone to bed. Living on the river, they’re familiar with rising water, and at first, it didn’t seem alarming. Lori described how the guys went down to retrieve the kayaks they had used earlier that day — but they were already gone. The current had swept them away. From that moment on, they stayed awake — and that, I believe, is what allowed them to perform the life-saving miracle that would follow.
Water began pouring into the lower level of their home — a basement-like space where the grandkids usually hang out, complete with a TV and couches. But the water didn’t stop there. It kept rising, creeping into the kitchen, and the family quickly began trying to grab essentials and prepare to evacuate.
That’s when Grant thought he heard a faint voice cry out, “Help!” Lori wasn’t sure — the rain, the thunder, and the roaring river made it nearly impossible to hear anything clearly. But moments later, they both heard it again. They ran to the porch, flashlight in hand, and shined the beam into the darkness.
That’s when they saw her — a young girl, clinging to a tree in the rushing floodwaters, screaming for help. She had spotted their flashlight through the blackness and called out. Her voice gave courage to another nearby — a second little girl who also began shouting. Both of them had been swept away from a nearby camp and were barely holding on to trees and debris just off the Griffins’ front porch.
Lori’s daughter Riley, and her boyfriend immediately sprang into action. It was Willis who ultimately pulled the girls to safety.
Standing on Lori’s porch as she recounted the story, I was overwhelmed. I could picture the scene so vividly — the chaos, the fear, the courage. I could hardly find words to respond. They saw the light. They called out. The Griffins heard. They risked their lives — and they saved two.
Out of respect for the privacy of the two young girls — whose names I do not know and truly don’t need to — I won’t share the details Lori told us next. What matters most is this: the girls were reunited with their parents, safe and alive, after being lovingly cared for by the Griffins. That reunion would never have happened if Lori, Grant, Riley, and her boyfriend hadn’t responded exactly as they did — with courage, compassion, and instinct — in the middle of absolute chaos.
Grant is a home builder by trade — a skilled contractor who knows how to rebuild from the ground up. And yet, 19 days after the flood, he had barely touched his own home. Why? Because he’s been pouring all of his time and energy into helping his neighbors recover first. That’s just who the Griffins are — selfless, steadfast, and deeply rooted in their community.
They’re currently staying in temporary housing provided through their church and anticipate living in an RV for the next year or so as they begin the long road of rebuilding. Thanks to generous donors from across the country, the Annie Louise Foundation Flood Fund was able to give the Griffins a $5,000 check toward restoring their home. But their journey is far from over — and we would love to give them more.
Lori didn’t have to invite us in. She didn’t have to share her time, her story, or her heart — but she did. And I pray that by sharing her story here, even more blessings find their way back to her and her family.
We were able to take Lori out for lunch — something she hadn’t done in weeks. It felt meaningful to offer her even a small slice of normalcy amidst the chaos. We sat together at The Copper Pot, one of the most charming little restaurants I’ve visited in a long time, tucked right there in Ingram, TX. As we ate and talked, watching locals greet each other like family, I found myself wishing I could bottle up that moment — the warmth, the grit, the community, the resilience.
After lunch, we had about an hour before meeting with Sharon, so we decided to spend it popping into as many local shops as we could — a small way to support the businesses working hard to recover. If you’re looking to support from afar, two absolute gems are The Creek Boutique and The Summer House. While they don’t appear to offer online ordering just yet, maybe there’s a way we can help make that happen in the future. Each of us found a few special items to take home — meaningful keepsakes that now hold the memory of this place and the people within it.
By 3:00 p.m., we were ready to meet Sharon, who had just finished her shift at the Ingram Whataburger. She and I had been texting and talking for four days leading up to this moment. Sharon, her husband, and their three children were in desperate need of a reliable vehicle. She told me she’d been searching Facebook Marketplace and mentioned it to a neighbor — who, in an incredible moment of kindness, offered to sell Sharon her own Durango for just $3,000. It was exactly Sharon’s budget, and buying from someone she trusted brought her peace of mind.
So there we were, in a Whataburger parking lot, going over paperwork, handling accounting, and handing over payment. Just like that, Sharon had a reliable set of wheels for her family — and a huge weight lifted from her shoulders. I think because of all the scam warnings out there — and us showing up out of nowhere — her husband was hesitant to believe it was real. But it was real. It is real. And it happened because of you — everyone who gave, prayed, and shared.
We filled up her new SUV with supplies from the pregnancy center for her little girl, gifted the family brand-new clothing in their sizes, filled her tank with gas, and gave her an H-E-B grocery gift card and a Cavender’s gift card for her husband and boys.
Sharon looked at me and said, “Courtney, I haven’t been late to work once. I never miss a day. I try so hard to get ahead. Life has just been so hard. I prayed that we would get help — and God heard my prayers.”
Ruby’s Rainbow + A Beautiful Donation
After we said our hugs and goodbyes to Sharon, we hit the road for the hour-and-a-half drive to New Braunfels. While this next stop wasn’t directly related to the flood relief effort, it was a beautiful continuation of the Annie Louise Foundation’s mission.
Back in March, for the fourth year in a row, we raised over $5,000 for Ruby’s Rainbow — an incredible Austin-based nonprofit that awards scholarships to students with Down syndrome pursuing higher education. This year, we were matched with Zeda, an incoming freshman at the University of Colorado–Colorado Springs.
We planned a surprise dinner to finally meet her and her mom, Tracy, at The Gristmill in the heart of historic Gruene, TX. It was a joyful celebration — a reminder that our work isn’t just about responding to crisis, but also about championing futures full of hope and possibility.
Zeda is absolutely incredible. Every moment we spent with her and her mom, Tracy, was a gift. Listening to Zeda’s story — from her earliest days to this amazing new chapter she’s about to begin — was deeply inspiring. Tracy and I are kindred spirits, without a doubt. She has fought with relentless love and determination to get Zeda where she is today. Together, they’re a powerhouse of hope, strength, and joy.
I’ll be sharing the video of Zeda opening her scholarship letter on my Instagram — don’t miss it. It’s pure, radiant joy. I’m already dreaming about a trip to visit her in Colorado soon!
While in New Braunfels, we were also able to meet a very specific and pressing need. A family reached out asking for a specialized piece of equipment for their child with Cerebral Palsy. Because the child doesn’t have Medicaid, the out-of-pocket cost was incredibly high. But thanks to the power of community and social media, the request was met — and in the most meaningful way.
My dear friend Emma Springer gifted this family her late daughter Sage’s shower chair. For those of us who have children in heaven (Katie, Emma, Erica — I see you), we know how delicate and emotional it can be to decide when and how to pass along their cherished items. Emma’s decision to give Sage’s chair to another child in need was a deeply moving act of love. When I sent her a photo of the recipient, she wrote back, “It made my heart so happy.” And mine too.
Final Stop: Hope House (July 24th)
In the days leading up to our trip, I joined a local Facebook group to ask a few questions and get a better sense of the needs on the ground. I specifically asked if anyone knew of families impacted by the flooding who had children with disabilities that we could support. Almost immediately, several people tagged Hope House. Curious and encouraged by the response, I looked up the organization and reached out.
That’s how I connected with Erland Shulze, the Development Director, and we had a long, meaningful conversation. I shared who we are and how we hoped to help. From that first call, it was clear that Hope House was a special place.
Their mission says it all: “To provide the best possible life for children and adults living with profound intellectual disabilities. We don’t exist to keep people alive—we exist to help them truly live… We’re relentless in our pursuit of joy, dignity, and belonging.”
I knew immediately: this was an organization we wanted to come alongside.
Hope House operates five homes—four within town and one original home situated along the San Gabriel River. It was that original location that flooded on July 4th.
We began our visit at the first home, where the oldest residents live. Erland welcomed us warmly and gave us a tour. He joined Hope House in 2016 after retiring, stepping in when Dave, the executive director, reached out for help. At the time, the organization was in serious trouble. Erland was humble as he shared the story, but it was clear that without his tireless grant writing and dedication to securing funding during its darkest days, Hope House might not exist today.
Hope House was founded in 1966 by Rose McGarrigle—a name every Texan should know. Rose’s story is one I will never forget. She grew up in Hitler’s Germany, where she cared for children with disabilities. One day, the children she loved and cared for were taken from her and “mercy killed.” As Annie’s mother, my heart shattered. While I’ve known this horrific part of history, standing on the land of a woman who lived it firsthand was profoundly moving.
After marrying an Irish-American soldier, Rose settled in Austin, Texas. Fueled by unshakable compassion, she turned her West Austin garage into a safe haven, driving a red Volkswagen bus across the city to pick up and care for children with disabilities. In 1976, she was gifted the land in Liberty Hill—and that’s where the legacy of Hope House truly took root.
The state of Texas is trying to reduce group homes in Texas. The original house operates as a traditional group home, with several beds sharing one large room.
In response, Hope House has started building new, updated structures designed with individual rooms to meet modern standards of care and dignity. The shift reflects their commitment not just to compliance, but to creating a true home for each resident—one that prioritizes privacy, comfort, and a deep sense of belonging.
Erland shared with us the remarkable story of how this particular Hope House came to be. During the height of COVID, they raised enough funds to begin construction of their fifth home—midway through it, the contractor they hired vanished with the funds. That man is now in jail, but at the time, it left Hope House in a heartbreaking bind. Determined not to give up, Erland wrote more than 60 letters asking the community for help. Only one person replied—but that one reply changed everything. It came from Dick Rathgeber, a man known for his deep generosity across Central Texas. When asked to come out for a tour, Dick said, “Well, my wife took my car keys, so Erland, you’ll have to come pick me up!” Erland happily obliged. Dick then donated the money to get the home built. And it is beautiful—a living testament to what persistence, hope, and the kindness of one person can accomplish.
Erland told us that just one week before our visit, the property looked entirely different. Hope House was suddenly “put on the map” after the flood. The next day, over 200 volunteers from the community came out. They spent an entire week cleaning mud and silt from the home and the furniture, as well as restoring the property, which was heavily damaged. The following week, Austin local Cord Shiflet showed up—bringing a crew of another 200 volunteers with him. In just one week, they completed the task of clearing away fallen trees and debris, gutted damaged areas of the house, repainted, replaced what was ruined, and restored the home to a livable condition. Upon completion, Cord and his crew worked their way down the creek, helping area neighbors clean up and restore their property. It was nothing short of miraculous.
If you’ve followed our family’s journey, you know how much unexpected changes can throw Annie into anxiety and overwhelm. Now imagine that same disruption for the children and adults living at Hope House—evacuated in the middle of the night, taken from the only routines and comforts they knew. The speed and care of local volunteers and Cord’s crew, who worked completely free of charge, made it possible for the residents to return home quickly, relieving enormous pressure from the staff and sparing the residents more trauma.
I’m incredibly thankful for that crew’s work—and the attention it brought to Hope House, which ultimately allowed us to connect with them. Just as we were wrapping up our visit, we were lucky enough to catch Dave.
Erland had told us that Dave looked like he could be a member of ZZ Top—and he wasn’t wrong. Long hair, commanding presence, and a heart as fierce as his look. What a human, you guys. This man gets it. He radiates love and carries an unshakable drive to fight for his residents and give them the life they deserve.
We stood together on the back side of the house, looking out toward the river, and had one of those rare, soul-filling conversations. He spoke with such clarity, compassion, and purpose that I found myself deeply moved.
Erland then gently shared what was, for Hope House, the most devastating loss from the flood. He pointed to an empty spot on the property—where a small home once stood. It belonged to Ms. Sherry Richardson, the beloved secretary of Hope House. She wasn’t able to escape when the waters came in the dark of night. The entire Hope House family is mourning her deeply.
He spoke of her with warmth and reverence, sharing stories that made it clear just how loved she was. They are already thinking of ways to honor her legacy. Standing there, taking in the serene beauty of the river and surrounding land while hearing about her tragic passing, was emotionally disorienting—a breathtaking contrast between natural beauty and human grief.
As we left Liberty Hill, we handed Erland a $5,000 check from the Annie Louise Foundation Flood Fund—thanks to your generous support.
All of the work we were able to do in the Hill Country leads back to one name: Mary Grace Baker. On the morning of July 4th, we began praying for the Bakers and the other Camp Mystic families. My niece lost her little friend that day, and my sister has walked alongside her dear friend Katie through the unimaginable grief of losing a child.
We would never have met a single person mentioned in this story if it weren’t for Mary Grace—and the light her beautiful life cast across the Hill Country. In her honor, $10,000 was donated to the Mary Grace Baker Memorial Fund.
The Annie Louise Foundation Hill Country Flood Fund reached a total of $38,254.00, thanks to 100 generous online donations—many from those of you reading this. While the entirety of the fund hasn’t yet been dispersed, we’re prayerfully and thoughtfully considering how to allocate the remaining balance in the coming months.
Our July trip to the Hill Country has come to a close—but our work there is far from over. After witnessing the loss, resilience, and beauty within this community, we feel more committed than ever to continue helping in tangible, meaningful ways.
To close this blog, I want to share how we hope to walk alongside each family and organization moving forward:
Support the Griffin Family Rebuild
The Griffins have lost their home and are preparing to live in an RV for the next year while they rebuild. If you'd like to directly support their temporary housing and future rebuilding costs, donations can be made to the Annie Louise Foundation via our website, or by mailing a check to our PO Box listed there. Please include the note: “Griffin Family Rebuild.”
Donate to the Mary Grace Baker Memorial Fund
In honor of their beloved daughter, Mary Grace, the Baker family has established this memorial fund to carry forward her bright, joyful legacy. Donations support causes and organizations she loved deeply, including St. Anne Catholic School and Beaumont Civic Ballet.
Help Us Support Hope House
After our visit, we’ve identified five specific projects we’re committed to supporting—each with the blessing of Erland and Dave. These are not small dreams—but they are worthy ones. And together, we believe they are possible.
1. Outdoor Community Space
Next to the new home located in downtown Liberty Hill is a wide, open, grassy field—a blank canvas waiting to become something extraordinary. Dave dreams of transforming it into a vibrant, inclusive outdoor space where Hope House residents and families of children with disabilities from the greater community can gather, connect, and find joy.
There’s no shade yet. No equipment. No structures. But there’s vision.
We’ve begun discussing a design committee of mothers who have children with disabilities to help create a space that serves real needs. This project will be costly—but we believe it’s worth every dollar. If you’d like to contribute, financially or with your ideas, we welcome you.
Donate online below or by mail, noting: “Hope House Outdoor Community Space”
Want your name on something? We’re happy to make that happen.
2. “Hope House Beautification Committee” – Landscaping Project
The land surrounding Hope House is stunning—but in need of care. With limited staff and endless responsibilities, the team simply can’t keep up with maintaining the trees, grass, and gardens.
We’d love to help establish a local beautification committee, rallying the talents of retirees and volunteers who know their way around a lawnmower, a pruning shear, or a flowerbed. This would reduce recurring landscaping costs and turn Hope House into an even more welcoming sanctuary.
There will still be expenses—equipment, fertilizer, mulch, plants—and we hope to cover those with your support.
Donate by using the link below or by mail, noting: “Hope House Beautification”
3. Vehicle Replacement
Hope House lost a 14-passenger van and a 4-wheel work truck in the flood. Both were vital—one for transporting residents to outings and appointments, the other for emergency responses and property maintenance.
With 48 residents and 70 staff members, transportation is essential and expensive.
If you have ties in the auto world or feel moved to support this tangible, urgent need…
Donate online below or by mail, noting: “Hope House Vehicles”
4. Staff Bonuses
Erland told us, “We pay a competitive wage, and we do have benefits; however, most people are going to choose a fast food restaurant, considering what is required to care for our residents. It's a demanding job that takes a lot of patience, supervision, and love. The caretakers—some of whom have served their entire careers here—pour themselves out daily for the good of these beloved residents.”
We want to create a fund for bonuses—a small but meaningful way to say “thank you” to the people keeping Hope House running with dignity and love.
Donate online below or by mail, noting: “Hope House Employee Bonuses”
5. Sensory Toy + Equipment Wishlist
We’re compiling an Amazon wishlist of sensory toys and equipment—hand-picked to meet both the fine and gross motor needs of Hope House residents. These items will be sent directly to Hope House with love.
The link will be shared soon via our social media channels. Keep an eye out and consider helping us bring some pure joy into these kids’ and adults’ lives.
Thank you for taking the time to read this entire story. Thank you for giving. Thank you for caring. Thank you for believing that even in the aftermath of a flood, hope can rise.
The Annie Louise Foundation Hill Country Flood Fund reached $38,254.00 from over 100 donors. Not all funds have been dispersed yet, but we’ll continue updating you as new needs are met.
Thank you for reading, for giving, and for walking this journey with us.
