ABOUT THE FOUNDER
A home
worth building.
I grew up as the youngest of three children. My older sister, Shelby, was born with developmental disabilities. Growing up, it wasn’t always easy to find things we could share, but we always had basketball.
My dad coached her Special Olympics team, and I had the honor of being a unified partner—playing alongside Shelby and her teammates. As we got older and the team developed, my role changed. I moved from the court to the sideline as an assistant coach, and I’ve been there every year since.
Those years taught me that people are capable of growth at every stage of life, and that having people who believe in you matters.
Basketball is just one part of who Shelby is. She has always loved helping in the kitchen. She’s a born baker, and her favorite part has always been getting to eat what she’s made—especially if it’s dessert.
When the Search
Became Personal
I’ve been lucky enough to spend my entire life around adults with developmental disabilities and their families. Over the years, I heard parents speak about the constant responsibilities of caregiving and the question that kept them awake at night: “What will happen to my child when I’m no longer around?”
Eventually, that question became personal for our family.
We began looking for a home where Shelby could build greater independence while giving my parents some rest from the care they had provided throughout her life. We wanted somewhere she could feel comfortable, supported, and truly at home.
We toured group home after group home. None felt right.
Every home we visited left us with the same feeling: little warmth, little personal character, and little to no interaction between caregivers and residents. Dim lighting, bare walls, and sparse furnishings made the spaces feel impersonal, while the television seemed to hold the caregivers’ attention more than the people they were there to support.
Shelby moved from house to house as we searched for the right fit. Ultimately, we decided to bring her home.
That experience became the beginning of Brighter Horizons.
What Home
Should Feel Like
I want to build warm, inviting homes where caregivers know the people they support—their interests, preferences, and the things that make them feel comfortable. Homes that encourage growth while honoring each person’s dignity.
When I picture success, I picture walking into a home and seeing residents and staff preparing dinner together. Maybe Shelby is helping with dessert. On another evening, everyone might be gathered around a board game or watching a movie.
I picture walls filled with family photographs and memories from outings. Decorations the residents chose themselves on a trip to a thrift store. Rooms that reflect the people who live in them. And the occasional impromptu dance party.
Those are the moments I hope Brighter Horizons will make possible: ordinary moments filled with choice, connection, and joy. A place where someone can keep growing, be themselves, and feel that they belong.
A place they can truly call home.
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