The Luna Project
Six months later, Mercy General opened a new family support center.
It was called The Luna Project.
The program provided emergency childcare, patient advocates, temporary housing assistance, transportation, legal guidance, and financial counseling for families facing medical crises.
No child would be expected to understand insurance forms.
No injured parent would lie awake wondering where their son or daughter would sleep.
No frightened family would be left alone at an admissions desk without someone explaining what happened next.
Matthew funded the program, but Anne designed it.
After recovering, she joined the Sullivan Foundation as director of family advocacy.
She refused the enormous executive salary Matthew initially offered.
They argued for three days before settling on a fair amount.
Her first policy required every staff member—including Matthew—to spend one day each month speaking directly with families.
“Numbers don’t cry,” she told him. “People do. You need to see both.”
The admissions clerk who had pushed Sarah’s dolls back across the counter attended the opening ceremony.
Her name was Linda Carter.
She approached Anne with tears in her eyes.
“I owe your daughter an apology.”
Anne listened quietly.
Linda explained that she had been working a double shift. Her husband had recently lost his job, and she was terrified of making a mistake with hospital procedures.
“But none of that excuses how I spoke to her,” Linda said. “I saw paperwork instead of a frightened child.”
Anne looked at her for a moment.
Then she handed Linda a volunteer application.
“Help us make sure it doesn’t happen again.”
Linda became one of the Luna Project’s most dedicated patient advocates.
She kept a small photograph of Sarah’s cardboard box beside her desk.
Not as punishment.
As a reminder.
