By Shaunna Graf
Finding Our Way Back to Nature: A Story of Loss, Love, and Bernheim
Fifteen years ago, Rey and I were just two nonprofit professionals navigating one of those awkward—but necessary—leadership programs in Southern Indiana. We worked for different organizations, but we were learning about our community side by side, showing up at monthly sessions and countless breakfasts, lunches, and happy hours.
Networking events have never been my comfort zone. I love people, but I prefer real conversations and real stories, not just business cards and small talk. Rey understood that. She worked in the nonprofit world too, and in between the scheduled activities, we talked honestly about the joys and challenges of our work, our communities, and our lives. And then, as happens so often, life moved on. At some point, we lost touch—not through any decision, just the natural drift of busy lives and changing roles.
Fast forward to a few months ago, I’m in my first 90 days at Bernheim, in a season that is both exhilarating and overwhelming. September through December is the most crucial part of our fundraising year, and I’ve been on an emotional rollercoaster—moments of awe, intense learning, new relationships, and the weight of responsibility that comes with leading an Advancement team at such a pivotal time. In the middle of this transition, I opened my inbox and saw a message from Rey.
She told me how thrilled she was I had joined Bernheim, and how deeply she has loved this place since she moved to the area 50 years ago. She assured me that I was in the right place, at the right time, and that my skills and heart for nonprofit work would serve this mission well. Her words landed in my life like a gift—encouraging, grounding, and so timely.
What I didn’t know when I first read her email was that Rey was also walking through an absolutely life-altering loss: the death of a family member. She didn’t mention it in that first message. I can only imagine how impossible it must feel to put that kind of grief into words while you are still swimming in it.
A few days later, a team member let me know that a tribute gift had come in from Rey. As my colleague spoke with Rey by phone, more of the story unfolded. Rey’s tribute gift to Bernheim was made in honor of a supportive, caring friend and cousin. During the conversation, my colleague listened. She made space for Rey’s grief. And as she listened, she thought about a special place on our grounds that many people don’t yet know exists at Bernheim.
Along our Meditation Trail, there is a Wind Phone—a simple, powerful place where people can symbolically “talk” to loved ones who are no longer physically with them. It’s a place created to help people process grief of all kinds, in the healing presence of nature. My teammate told Rey about the Wind Phone and invited her to visit—to walk, to sit, to speak, and to simply be held by the forest. It was a moment that went far beyond the transactional act of making a donation.
Rey is now arranging for a memorial bench at Bernheim in honor of a family member’s lifelong lesson to “enjoy life.” Rey told me that he weaved in his families’ fabric his appreciation and excitement with the wonders of nature’s way. No matter the challenges experienced, he was always responded with a caring calmness found only in the core strength and beauty of nature, providing him life’s enjoyment. His hiking, climbing, cycling, camping all nurtured his caring ways, for him the greatest ‘self-care’. Bernheim Forest amazingly spotlights nature’s strength and beauty. The bench will provide his family with a way to share his life-long lesson to enjoy life.
Rey’s children have grown up with Bernheim, attending Forest Pals and many of our programs and events. For Rey and her family, this isn’t just a beautiful landscape. It’s part of their story. It is the “spotlight on the strength and beauty of nature” for the “self-care” to revive us again, and again. Giving comfort, connection, and healing.
Here at Bernheim, it’s not just what you see—it’s what you feel when you step into nature. It’s the sense of finding your way again after feeling lost. It’s the comfort of knowing there is a place where grief, joy, wonder, and hope can all exist together under the canopy of trees and sky.
We are living in a tumultuous time—economically, environmentally, and emotionally. It’s not all butterflies and rainbows. We face real uncertainty about what comes next in terms of funding. And yet, we persevere, because people like you choose to give your time, talent, and treasure to keep this place thriving.
I am still new here, and I have much to learn. But in these first 7 months I am already deeply impressed by the people of Bernheim, the teammate who quietly takes the time to listen and make a meaningful connection, the staff member who empties my trash with a smile while I’m working on appeal letters, the friendly faces who wave at strangers on our trails. Together, we are creating not just a destination, but a space for of calm, comfort and transformation.
I look forward to meeting as many of you as I can and learning what motivates you to support Bernheim. I’m eager to reconnect with old friends like Rey and to welcome new friends who are just discovering how powerful time in nature can be.
My hope is that you’ll join us here—get a little lost in the woods, and maybe find your truest self again. Again and again, as we continue to connect with nature, we help one another heal, grow, and remember what matters most.
Come, revive your responsive caring calmness, in the core strength and beauty of nature found here at Bernheim Forest. Hike the trails, enjoy the views, relax on a bench just waiting for you.
