At 92 years old, Delores Lee still wakes up in her own home. The same walls she knows, the same kitchen table where she’s had years of quiet mornings, the same sense of familiarity that so many people lose with age. For many in their 90s, living independently is no longer an option. But for Delores, it still is—and that didn’t happen by chance.

When Heather Peterson first met Delores on July 25, 2018, it was a simple home visit. At the time, Heather was working as a Health Home Care Coordinator. Today, she serves as Co-Director of Community Based Teams. They sat together at Delores’s kitchen table, talking through what support could look like.

Delores was clear from the start: she didn’t think she needed help. There was a quiet resistance, not rooted in stubbornness, but in something deeper. A belief that she should be able to manage on her own. A hesitation that many people share but don’t always say out loud—that asking for help somehow means you’ve lost something.

Still, she agreed to move forward with the process, just to see what she might qualify for. Heather helped her complete a DSHS long-term care application for in-home caregiving support. It was a small step, one piece of paperwork among many, but it opened the door to something much bigger.

Over time, Delores qualified for services and was connected to ongoing case management through Rural Resources. That’s where she was introduced to her caregiver, Heidi—a connection that would come to shape her daily life in ways she hadn’t expected.

“Heidi (caregiver) is a Godsend.”

Heidi doesn’t just show up for scheduled hours. She lives next door. Support isn’t something Delores has to wait for or wonder about—it’s right there, within reach. That proximity has created something more than convenience. It’s created peace of mind.

“I feel a lot safer knowing that my caregiver is right there (referring to next door- they are neighbors) gives me peace of mind”.

Safety, for Delores, is knowing someone is close. Someone she trusts. Someone who understands her routine, her needs, and her independence. That kind of support allows her to stay where she wants to be—at home.

Over time, another connection has grown just as meaningful. What began as a professional relationship with Heather has turned into something grounded in trust and familiarity. Visits that could feel clinical or transactional have instead become something Delores looks forward to.

“I feel free to talk to you (Heather). It does not seem threatening. I want you to come.”

Delores shared that interactions with professionals can sometimes feel distant or intimidating, like something to endure rather than welcome. But that hasn’t been her experience here. With Heather, there’s space to talk, to ask questions, to feel heard without pressure or judgment. That kind of connection doesn’t happen automatically. It’s built over time, through consistency and care.

And even with that support, there are still moments when Delores struggles with something many people don’t talk about—the emotional weight of needing help. She sometimes feels bad for relying on others, often thinking it is something she should apologize for. But Heidi reminds her, gently and often, that this is what she’s there for. That accepting help isn’t a failure. It’s part of living well.

That reassurance has made a difference. Delores is calmer now. More at ease. The constant underlying worry—about what might happen, about whether she’s asking too much—has softened.

“You (Heather) encourage me to focus on my health”.

That encouragement shows up in small but important ways. Keeping appointments. Paying attention to her well-being. Feeling like her health still matters and is worth investing in. It’s not just about services, it’s about restoring a sense of control.

Delores reflected on something simple but powerful: not many people her age are still living at home. She is. And she doesn’t take that lightly. The ability to stay in a familiar space, to maintain her routines, to hold onto her independence—those are things she deeply values.

Looking back, one of the biggest surprises for her wasn’t the assistance itself. It was how much she values the people behind it.

“That I like you (Heather) so much and look forward to you coming. I think you are a great person. If anyone turns you away, they are missing out on alot”.

That kind of connection goes beyond any program description. It’s the result of showing up, again and again, with patience and care. It’s what turns a service into a relationship.

Today, Delores knows she doesn’t have to navigate things alone. Whether she needs help connecting to a medical provider, understanding a process, or finding the right resource, she knows who to call. She doesn’t need to have all the answers anymore. She just needs someone who will help her find them.

That’s what the Health Home Program can do when it’s working the way it’s meant to. It doesn’t take over someone’s life, it supports it. It creates a safety net without taking away independence. It helps people stay where they belong, with the dignity and stability they deserve.

Delores’s story is deeply personal. There are others in our communities who are facing similar challenges, quietly navigating uncertainty, unsure if they should reach out or if help is really meant for them. Sometimes, all it takes is one conversation to shift that perspective. One moment of saying yes, even if it’s hesitant.

Stories like this don’t happen in isolation. They’re made possible by people, by programs, and by communities that believe in showing up for one another. If Delores’s story resonates with you, there are ways to be part of that impact. Whether it’s supporting programs like the Health Home Program, volunteering your time, or helping share these stories, you’re helping make sure more people can feel safe, supported, and able to stay in a place they call home.