Honoring a Legacy

How Meeting a Need helps Heal a Heart- 

Sometimes, the most meaningful gifts do more than meet a need—they carry a story, bring comfort in grief, and plant seeds of hope and healing that continue to grow long after they’re given. 

When the Morgan family made a generous donation in memory of a loved one and reached out about directing the gift to something tangible that was needed in the office of the new Adoption & Foster Care Clinic, it couldn’t have come at a better time.   

I work remotely as a development director, helping connect others to the mission and heart of our clinic. For months, I’d been using an aging laptop—doing my best to stretch its life to conserve clinic funds for more pressing needs. But let’s just say… the ole dinosaur had seen better days. It whirred like a 747 gearing up for takeoff and creaked under the weight of even the simplest tasks. Then, on the very day we received Jennifer’s donation, my trusty (and noisy) sidekick officially gave up the ghost. It wouldn’t turn on. Not even a flicker. 

That’s when this gift became more than generous—it became providential. 

 As a startup interdisciplinary medical/therapeutic clinic serving adoptive, foster, and kinship families across the Southeast United States, we face a daily challenge: providing high-quality, trauma-informed care, while keeping services affordable and accessible to families who need them most. Most professional clinics rely on insurance to cover their costs. But for us, insurance only covers a small fraction of what we do. To keep serving well—without turning families away—we depend on the generosity of donors to help fill the gap. 

When asked, “What tangible item do you need most?” I laughed a little and said, “Well… honestly? A computer.” But I hesitated because I didn’t think a laptop was the kind of gift someone would want to give in honor of a loved one. It didn’t feel visible enough or meaningful enough to the work we do, especially when the gift was in memory of a beloved family member. 

I imagined something more forward-facing—something patients and families would see when they walked in the peaceful, healing space that is the clinic. I mean, who hears of a donor plaque on a development director’s laptop? I meet with a lot of people, sure, but still… it felt too “behind the scenes” to matter that much. 

But God had a bigger story in motion. 

What I thought was a practical fix turned out to be something sacred. The Morgan family’s gift was a lifeline for me to be able to do my work. But even more powerful was the heart behind it. 

This donation was given in memory of Robert Morgan, a loved brother and son. After his passing, the family wanted to do something meaningful that would reflect who Robert was and what he loved: helping people, solving problems, and making life easier for others.  

Turns out, Robert was an IT guy… a computer was the ultimate way to honor the tech genius of the family, the guy who always knew how to fix anything. I was amazed! Jennifer and I both found ourselves in happy tears as we saw the story God was writing. 

This experience reminded me of something powerful: as the people who often get to connect passion and purpose, we don’t always get to decide what’s “appropriate” to ask for. We just present the needs. God does the weaving. He takes broken things—a crashed computer, a grieving heart, a gap in resources—and somehow brings hope, healing, and growth for all involved. 

He does it every day. We just have to be willing to ask—and to receive. 

Now, each time I sit down to work and see Robert’s name on the laptop I use, I am reminded that God brings beauty from the ashes and turns our generosity into streams of life for others who need to know His love and care. When I see “In loving memory of Robert Morgan” It’s more than a plaque, it’s a powerful reminder that God is in control. A reminder that we are all connected. That our stories matter. That the legacies of those we love can live on in the most practical, beautiful ways. 

A few weeks later, Jennifer, Robert’s sister, told me she would like to give her mother a photo of me working on the computer for Mother’s Day—a way to show how Robert’s legacy continues to be a gift to others. That gesture moved me deeply. Her gift not only met a real and urgent need for us at The Adoption and Foster Care Clinic—it brought peace, healing, and purpose to her family’s grief. 

And now, that same gift is helping us offer those very things to the children and families we serve. 

Because when generosity is rooted in love and guided by purpose, it creates something lasting. Something sacred. Something that grows. 

This is the kind of giving that changes lives—both for the giver and the recipient. It’s not just about dollars or donations. It’s about building something together. A family tree of support, rooted in love, growing stronger with every story, every gift, and every act of kindness. 

To the Morgan family: thank you for planting something beautiful and allowing us to share your story! 
To others considering how to give: may you be inspired to give in a way that matters deeply to you—because that’s the kind of giving that changes the world. 

🌱💻❤️ 
To support our mission or learn more about how your gift can grow lasting impact, visit [www.adoptionfosterclinic.org/give] 

Photo of Development Director, Annah Grace with the laptop provided by a generous gift

When I see “In loving memory of Robert Morgan” It’s more than a plaque, it’s a powerful reminder that God is in control. A reminder that we are all connected. That our stories matter. That the legacies of those we love can live on in the most practical, beautiful ways.