We've Been on Both Sides of the Door

As caregivers. As care recipients. We kept seeing the same problem.

In the late 1990s, I met Margie. Both of her parents had cancer, and by the time I came into her life, they were already deep in a long health journey. For decades, Margie had walked alongside them. I joined her during the later years.

People showed up for her parents. They brought meals, made visits, offered help — her parents were genuinely cared for. But even with all that love and support, it was harder than it needed to be.

The same questions, repeated

Every conversation started from scratch. Those being cared for exhausted themselves just bringing visitors up to speed.

No thread between visits

One visitor would learn something important — and it stayed with them alone. The next person arrived with no context.

The same few people, every time

Without visibility into who's helping, the burden falls on whoever keeps showing up. Burnout was inevitable.

Afraid to ask again

Those receiving care didn't want to be a burden. They'd rather go without than ask the same person for help twice.

Conversations stayed shallow

Without knowing what someone was really going through, visitors defaulted to small talk. Deeper connection rarely happened.

Practical help, but no deeper care

Meals arrived. Errands got done. But the fears, the grief, the spiritual struggles — those stayed unspoken.

Not because people didn't care —
but because there was no system to carry the story forward.

August 2003

Margie's mother passed away.

Ten days later, her father followed.

Forty days after that, our house burned down in a California wildfire.

It took 10 years to recover, then...

The burned remains of our home after the California wildfire, American flag still standing

The flag still flew.

Margie and Joe searching through the rubble of their home

Searching for what remained.

Then in 2014, I was in a motorcycle accident. Doctors gave me a 30% chance to live. Seven surgeries. Two months in the hospital. I had to learn to walk again. I still have permanent nerve damage in my right leg.

This time, we were the ones being cared for. And we experienced the same gaps from the other side. People asking the same questions over and over. Having to relive the story when all we wanted to do was heal. No continuity between visits — every conversation started from zero.

Joe returning to work for the first time after the accident, on crutches

Through it all — as caregivers and as care recipients — we kept seeing the same missing link

No one knew the story
before they knocked.

Years Later

Serving in our church's widow care ministry, I saw it again. Spreadsheets. Workarounds. Good intentions dragged down by scattered information.

I had personal relationships with these widows. I wanted to do better by them.

So I built Acts2Track.

To give servants the context they need to show up prepared

To help people advance and overcome, not just repeat and explain

To ensure that no one slips through the cracks

Know the story before you knock.

So no one slips through the cracks.

— Joe Arnett, Founder

"Pure religion and undefiled before God and the Father is this, To visit the fatherless and widows in their affliction..."
— James 1:27

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