When Mighty Caregivers first started, the focus was on people caring for others in visible, demanding roles. And that work still matters deeply. But along the way, something became clear. Caregiving isn’t limited to a title, a job, or a diagnosis. Every day, people show up quietly for someone—or something—that matters to them. A family member. A friend. A calling. A community. A season of life that requires extra care. That’s why I have embraced this truth: If you care for someone, we see you. We recognize how important you are. This community is meant to be a place where: - You don’t have to prove how much you carry - Your care doesn’t have to look like anyone else’s - Your story matters, even if you’re still figuring it out Mighty Caregivers is about recognizing care in all its forms—and we are all conduits to help people and organizations that we care about in the community. I recently added Jeremy's Cape Tab. I love this and hope you get inspired. This is my chance to express what I care about. My passion are the professional caregivers that provide care. The journey to including my cape made me realize this is not a support group. I am not trying to fix with caregiver tips. My cape allow me to share my caregiver experience with you so we can engage in a meaningful conversation along the way. I hope that Capes will allow you to share your stories and experiences. I love this space because it will allow you to share with others what you care about as a caregiver. I am moving away from the traditional caregiver role and including how we are conduits to care for people in our communities in a role that you choose. I am also very excited to introduce the Mighty Caregiver Podcast. This has been a long time coming and I think it has found a place in this community. I am hopeful to start interviewing caregivers in the near future. Mighty Caregivers is a ministry at Edge UMC in Groveland, Florida. I have introduced a tab to encourage support by making a charitable donation so Mighty Caregivers can continue to make strides to help Mighty Caregivers in all our communities.

My church gathers monthly for a Random Acts of Kindness Dinner where we share a donation and person is picked for the month to disperse the donation to random organizations or people. When we last gathered for the Random Acts of Kindness dinner, I honestly thought the hardest part would be deciding where the funds should go. I had $408. At first, I approached it like a project. I told myself I would plan it all out—decide who would receive what, map out the stops, and take care of everything efficiently. It felt manageable. Straightforward. Easy. Little did I know, God had other plans. From the beginning, I felt clear about one thing: I wanted a portion of the funds to go toward Christmas presents for the clients I work with at Road to Home. Road to Home is a transitional inpatient community, and many of the clients there live with very limited income and little to no family support. For many of them, holidays can feel especially quiet and overlooked. I wanted this to feel special for them.Not extravagant—just thoughtful.Not flashy—just full of care. So I started planning. I imagined myself driving around, stopping here and there, dropping off money and support. I thought the process would be smooth and predictable. And then something unexpected happened. One morning, while cleaning out a drawer in my kitchen, I came across a pair of hearing aids. They stopped me in my tracks. Six months earlier, Carol had given them to me. Her father no longer needed them, and she passed them along in case they might help someone else. I remember receiving them, setting them aside, and then—like so many things—we both moved on. I had completely forgotten they were there. Standing in my kitchen, holding those hearing aids, I felt it clearly: This wasn’t random.This was God walking with me. In that quiet moment, my neatly planned kindness tour shifted. What I thought was about distributing money suddenly became about paying attention—to what was already placed in my hands, to the needs around me, and to how God often works through forgotten drawers and unexpected moments.