Escaping the 'Hate State' shadow
By Ryan Lowery | June 30, 2026
It happened at Garden of the Gods. As I gazed at the impressive beauty of green trees in front of massive red rock formations — the blue hue of Pikes Peak towering in the background — I realized I wanted to move back to Colorado Springs.
Born and raised in the Springs, I’d moved away before, but only as far as the Denver and Boulder areas. Then, in February of 2014, I moved to New Mexico, where I remained until returning to Colorado Springs in the summer of 2025.
The version of the Springs I returned to reminded me more of the town I’d known from my youth, before the 1990s, before a small but powerful coterie of fundamentalist Christians coordinated attacks on the state’s gay population.
The influx of evangelicals began when city leaders shifted away from wooing military and defense institutions in favor of attracting evangelical groups seeking cheap land and cheap labor. Throughout the late 1980s and early ’90s, massive new buildings became home to groups like Christian book publisher David C. Cook, HCJB World Radio (now called Reach Beyond), and the International Bible Society (now called Biblica and located in nearby Palmer Lake). These organizations joined existing evangelical groups like Compassion International, the Navigators, Young Life, and Summit Ministries, which had been operating in the Springs for years and whose presence helped persuade others to call Colorado Springs home.
Between 1980 and 1995, more than 50 evangelical ministries relocated to town, and while many were large, none was bigger than Focus on the Family, which moved to Colorado Springs from Pomona, California.
What brought most of these groups to the Pikes Peak region was a combination of available land that was less costly than similar sized properties in other parts of the country, newly implemented tax laws allowing tax-free ownership of land to loosely defined ministry groups, and free money from nonprofits like the El Pomar Foundation, which gave Focus on the Family $4 million to move to Colorado.
These factors contributed to a rise in homegrown organizations as well, like New Life Church, created by Ted Haggard, who moved to Colorado Springs from Louisiana in 1984 and found what he described to National Public Radio as a “pastor’s graveyard.” He said the city was full of “pagan-style religions,” and he stated that only 10% of Colorado Springs’ residents attended church, though it’s unclear where he got this figure or if it’s rooted in any statistical accuracy. Soon after arriving in town, Haggard began holding church services in the basement of his home. The church later moved to a strip mall before ultimately becoming an 11,000-plus member megachurch on the city’s far north side.
This shift toward evangelicalism gave way to the birth of other smaller groups as well, like Colorado for Family Values, formed in June 1991, just as Focus on the Family came to town. The stated goal of Colorado for Family Values, as quoted in the New York Times in May 1992, was to “stop gay activists before they trample on your freedoms.”
Perhaps it seems odd that a nascent lobbying group from Colorado Springs made it into the pages of one of the nation’s largest newspapers months after its formation, but Colorado for Family Values gained national attention because of its efforts to pass a constitutional amendment in Colorado that would, as the group put it, prevent homosexuals from gaining “special rights.”
This effort began in 1992 when the organization introduced a proposed amendment to the state’s constitution that was officially titled The No Protected Status for Sexual Orientation Amendment. It was more commonly called Amendment 2 though, and by that spring, the group had gathered enough signatures to put the proposal on the November ballot, a ballot where voters would also choose a president in a tight three-way race between incumbent George H.W. Bush, Bill Clinton, and Ross Perot.
That same year, my parents moved me from my District 11 public school to a private Christian high school. I didn’t love the idea, but I hated my current school and was not learning much there, so I didn’t fight it. My new school provided a very different environment than I was used to. I was not raised in a religious setting and attended church rarely, usually only during Christmas or Easter when we’d attend a service to mollify a friend or family member. It’s probably germane to note here that I am a straight cis man, but even then, as a straight cis teen, I suspected that sexuality and gender weren’t quite the existential crises those at the Christian school made them out to be. Many my age within my new school felt differently, but I got the feeling that my friends outside of school felt as I did, and many adults around me also seemed to share views closer to mine.
Nonetheless, the hateful rhetoric spewed by supporters of Amendment 2 was gleefully parroted by many at my school. I’d also started going to church services more often, partly because my school held a compulsory weekly service, and partly because the school was housed inside a church, and therefore, most of the students and their families attended that church. Within the halls of that building, whether during the week or on a Sunday, I often heard the “no special rights” rhetoric, sometimes interlaced with gay slurs.
I vividly remember being on a band trip where, as we traveled across town, I sat in a school van beside one of the trumpet players — someone I considered a friend and looked up to because he was older than I was. He was staunchly opposed to gays having “special” rights, and he fully, and vocally supported Amendment 2. At the age of 14, I likely didn’t fully understand the amendment, and I doubt my friend fully understood it either, even with the benefit of having spent a year or two more on the planet than I had. At any rate, I remember thinking the amendment sounded unnecessary at best, and hateful at worst. Many others in Colorado Springs seemed to feel the same way as yard signs and bumper stickers declaring “discrimination is not my family’s value” sprang up across town. In fact, it was a yard sign opposing Amendment 2 that caused my bandmate to express his support for the ballot measure.
A “No on 2” sign on display at the Colorado Springs Pioneers Museum.
(Photo by Ryan Lowery)
During this time, at some point and in a manner I no longer remember, I came into possession of a “no on 2” button. I treasured it but kept it hidden, afraid of what would happen if people at school knew I felt that way, and afraid that my beloved button would be taken from me. For months, it stayed tucked away in the same hidden spot I kept my good CDs (primarily Nirvana and Pearl Jam, for what it’s worth). My parents may or may not have agreed with the button’s sentiment, but I didn’t know their stance because I never discussed Amendment 2 with them. Within the world I’d suddenly found myself living in, it was expected that you supported the amendment, and maybe I supposed they did, or maybe I was just too scared to express my distaste for it, even to the people I knew best.
In November 1992, Amendment 2 narrowly passed with approval from 53.4% of Colorado’s voters. Scholars and political pundits mused that some people might have voted for it when they actually opposed it, due to the ballot measure’s confusing language. Regardless, Amendment 2 passed and saw strong support in rural counties in eastern Colorado, and in El Paso County, home to Colorado Springs. But it also had support from voters in several suburban Denver counties, including Adams County where Bush had lost.
Whatever the reasons, voters had passed Amendment 2, and it was on its way to becoming the law of the land, but not without a fight. Within a week of the election, several groups filed a lawsuit, aiming to block it.
Still, many people, me included, felt disheartened. Many wondered how voters could pass such a hateful amendment, and what it meant for gay people in the Springs and across the state. Would they be harassed more? Would the rights they’d had before November suddenly evaporate? I had similar questions, but they remained mostly in my head because I didn’t dare say them out loud, given the conservative vibe in town and the insular, anti-gay echo chamber that was my Christian school.
About a month after Amendment 2 passed, Nirvana released a compilation album entitled “Incesticide.” Eager to obtain this follow-up to the still-amazing “Nevermind,” I rode my bike from my house near Circle Drive and Pikes Peak Avenue to the late great Independent Records on Platte Avenue. With the new CD in hand, I rode home, put it in my Discman, and cranked the volume.
After listening to the record a few times, I sat down and read the liner notes. Within the pages of the small booklet were things you’d typically find: band photos, track listings, and songwriting credits. But there was also a message from frontman Kurt Cobain (or Kurdt, as he signed it in the notes): “If any of you in any way hate homosexuals, people of different color, or women, please do this one favor for us — leave us the fuck alone! Don’t come to our shows and don’t buy our records.”
Those words resonated in a way I imagined biblical verses resonated with other students at my school. They were blunt and unambiguous, and I admired the hell out of Cobain for being able to say what he felt with unabashed freedom.
The words also inspired me.
If Cobain and the other members of the band could be open about accepting people, and open about rejecting anyone filled with hate, then I could too. I didn’t have to sit quietly as schoolmates spewed untrue invectives about gay people, I didn’t have to hide my disdain for the hatred that fueled Amendment 2, and I didn’t have to pretend that those at my school who openly spewed hate were in any way Christlike. I’d always been told that religion was a personal matter and that you weren’t supposed to criticize people’s religious beliefs, but as I read and reread Cobain’s words, it struck me that, in this case, it wasn’t religion. It was hate masked as religion.
By this point, a great deal of reputational damage had been done to the state, with much of the nation labeling Colorado “The Hate State.” Many others, including celebrities, some governors of other states, and mayors of cities across the country, launched a boycott of Colorado. Later, some dubbed Colorado Springs the “City of Hate,” and as the birthplace of Amendment 2, they called for a separate boycott of the Springs, feeling the state shouldn’t pay for the sins of one of its cities.
Hate on trial
While Colorado voters had approved Amendment 2, no one in the state ever had to live under the law. On January 15, 1993, the day it was set to take effect, Denver District Judge Jeffrey Bayless granted a preliminary injunction that blocked it. This followed a lawsuit filed against Colorado by nine individuals and the cities of Denver, Boulder, and Aspen.
The injunction was only temporary though. Bayless would hear arguments from both sides over the course of nine days in October 1993.
By the time the trial began, I’d left my Christian school, after just one year there. I’d also stopped going to church, effectively insulating myself from the hateful sentiments that I’d heard so often inside that shared building.
After reentering my former world, no one around me was upset by the injunction, and most wanted to see the court fully block the amendment.
Meanwhile, inside Bayless’ courtroom, the architects of Amendment 2 argued that their stance was not based on religious views and said they only wanted to stop the “militant gay aggression” that was a danger to “the state’s political functions,” according to an article by the Associated Press.
On Dec. 14, 1993, Bayless declared Amendment 2 unconstitutional, stating, “Constitutional rights cannot be submitted to a vote.”
It actually may have been Colorado for Family Values Director Kevin Tebedo’s own words that forged this coffin nail. Tebedo had been recorded saying, “The authority of God says there’s plenty wrong with homosexuality. Homosexuality is an abomination.”
Colorado for Family Values Director Kevin Tebedo takes questions from reporters in May 1996.
In his 16-page ruling, Judge Bayless wrote, “The religious belief urged by defendants is that homosexuals are condemned by scripture and therefore discrimination based on that religious teaching is protected within freedom of religion” and that “in this case, it is obvious that the amendment is not narrowly drawn to protect religious freedom.”
Bayless further wrote: “If one wished to promote family values, action would be taken that is pro-family rather than anti some other group.”
Though a massive defeat for Colorado for Family Values and the state’s legal team, it wasn’t the end for Amendment 2 supporters. As soon as Bayless’ decision came down, then Attorney General Gale Norton announced she planned to appeal the ruling. The case would eventually go before the Colorado Supreme Court, which agreed with Bayless.
The U.S. Supreme Court took up the case in 1995, declaring it unconstitutional the following May.
By then though, plenty of harm had been done to Colorado. According to a New York Times article, the boycott cost the state an estimated $38 million in losses from canceled conventions alone.
The idea that hate flourished in Colorado and that gays were not welcome in the state even cost Denver its chance at the national spotlight when producers of the “Cheers” spin-off “Frasier” moved the setting of the new show from their first choice of Denver to Seattle.
“We knew we didn’t want Frasier there anymore … We weren’t going to give Denver all this positive publicity,” Peter Casey, the show’s executive producer told the Seattle Times in a 1993 interview.
The ‘secret’ Glen Eyrie meetings
Even in the shadow of defeat, those behind Colorado’s failed Amendment 2 didn’t stop their efforts to make gays a lesser class of American citizen.
From May 16 through 18, 1994 — prior to the U.S. Supreme Court placing the final nail in Amendment 2’s coffin — representatives from 35 states and several national religious rights organizations gathered at the northern edge of Garden of the Gods inside a “castle” built by the city’s founder William Jackson Palmer. Their goal? Take what they’d learned from Amendment 2 and implement similar laws across the nation.
Construction on Palmer’s castle, known as Glen Eyrie, began in 1871. Palmer and his wife Mary “Queen” Palmer (née Mellen) lived there with their three daughters, but upon Palmer’s death in 1909, his children no longer wished to live in the castle, and they placed it for sale. The city of Colorado Springs had the opportunity to buy it, but declined, and after being sold a few times to wealthy men from out of state, in 1953, it was purchased by the Navigators, a powerful evangelical group that planned to use the property to help it connect with other major evangelical organizations.
To that end, according to a 1994 article in the Washington Times, “two days of top-secret meetings” took place within the gated confines of the historic property.
A Colorado-based reporter for the conservative-leaning paper attempted to cover the meeting but wasn’t allowed inside, reportedly because Colorado for Family Values barred any media from the gathering. However, an attendee recorded much of the conference and later released transcripts to the press.
Glen Eyrie in Colorado Springs.
(Photo by Ryan Lowery)
The secret meeting had been arranged by leaders from several Colorado Springs-based evangelical organizations, including Summit Ministries, Focus on the Family, and Colorado for Family Values.
Colorado for Family Values’ provenance is linked to the push to pass Amendment 2. The impetus for the ballot measure was a 1991 discussion within the chambers of the Colorado Springs City Council when the city’s Human Relations Commission made a seemingly innocuous proposal to ban employment discrimination based on sexual orientation.
Will Perkins, a well-known car dealership owner, became the chairman for Colorado for Family Values after being angered by the Human Relations Commission’s proposal, which he saw as an attempt to “achieve a protected-class status for homosexual behavior,” according to a Colorado Springs Independent article. Ultimately, the council ordinance did not pass, and the city dissolved the 15-member commission, which had existed for three decades.
As Colorado for Family Values gained more prominence among fundamentalist Christian groups, it added several anti-gay members to its advisory and executive boards. This included several Focus on the Family employees, along with Republican U.S. Sen. Bill Armstrong, who in a 1992 fund-raising letter for the organization described the AIDS epidemic as the “self-created miseries of pleasure-addicted gays” and called on Coloradans to turn back “a very grave threat” from gays.
The board also included Bill McCartney, the founder of an all-male Christian group called the Promise Keepers. At the time of his board service, McCartney was also the football coach at the University of Colorado, and during a 1992 speech at CU, he called homosexuality “an abomination.”
These dogmatic statements from Armstrong and McCartney likely didn’t cause any concern for those behind Colorado for Family Values. While the statements had been made in public forums, they were timid compared to things said during the secret meetings at Glen Eyrie.
While there’s no evidence that Focus on the Family founder James Dobson was in attendance, the meeting began, according to transcripts from the clandestine recordings, with Dobson acolyte John Eldredge offering those gathered, “Greetings from Dr. Dobson.”
Though Dobson might have been absent, his own words from four years earlier suggest agreement with the messaging presented at Glen Eyrie. In a 1990 issue of a Focus on the Family magazine, Dobson wrote that the ’90s were “the Civil War Decade” and that with the fall of the Soviet Union, the Cold War would be replaced by a “culture war” fought over abortion, public education, and homosexuality. Dobson also vaunted Amendment 2 on his radio show ahead of the 1992 election and encouraged listeners to support it.
(Photo courtesy Pikes Peak Library District)
At Glen Eyrie, Eldredge, as Dobson’s emissary, presented a five-point plan to spread an anti-gay message in order to “roll back the militant gay agenda.”
Eldredge warned those gathered that they “must never appear to be mean-spirited or bigoted. We must never appear to be attempting to rob anyone of their rights — of their constitutional rights.” However, other comments he made could be easily viewed as mean-spirited. “I would not say this in other cultural contexts, but the gay agenda has all the elements of that which is evil,” he said. “It is deceptive at every turn. It is destroying the souls and lives of those who embrace it.”
Will Perkins told the assemblage: “If we lose this battle, there are no more moral absolutes left for this nation.”
By the end of the meetings, the attendees had mapped a plan to create a database of gay people holding public office and a plan to keep track of crimes committed by gay people. They had also developed a plan to furtively pass anti-gay laws elsewhere in the country.
The May 1994 Glen Eyrie meetings were notable because they’d gained the attention of the press and produced audio evidence of what was said behind the castle’s walls, but a similar meeting took place at Glen Eyrie a year before, on April 30 and May 1, 1993.
Details hammered out at the first Glen Eyrie meetings included plans to promote a ballot initiative in Cincinnati, based on Colorado’s Amendment 2.
The measure, Issue 3, sought to amend the city charter of Cincinnati to forbid the city from adopting or enforcing civil rights ordinances based on sexual orientation. Those behind Issue 3 often spoke of “special protections,” a phrase eerily similar to language used during the push for Amendment 2 in Colorado. The Cincinnati measure also appeared to take aim at disrupting any plans the city might have to enact something like the proposal brought up in 1991 by the Colorado Springs’ Human Relations Commission that would have banned employment discrimination based on sexual orientation.
Like Amendment 2, Cincinnati’s measure saw legal challenges, but the U.S. Supreme Court declined to issue a ruling, effectively leaving the ban in place. This was a victory for those in Ohio who’d backed it, but it was also a win for Colorado for Family Values, which helped craft the measure and shelled out $390,000 to help get it passed.
The 1993 and 1994 gatherings at Glen Eyrie didn’t produce much other successful legislation, but they did provide the somewhat obscure Colorado for Family Values a platform to gain a wider audience of like-minded people who were eager to see a blueprint for a war against homosexuality. The meetings also boosted the national profile of Will Perkins and Colorado for Family Values Executive Director Kevin Tebedo.
Ultimately, that boost was short-lived.
Perkins made a push to influence more policy in Colorado Springs by running for mayor in 1999. But in the April election, Perkins lost to incumbent Mary Lou Makepeace by 44% to 31%; a third-party candidate received 25% of the vote.
In the wake of Perkins’ loss, the executive director of Colorado for Family Values resigned. The position was never again filled and the organization officially dissolved in 2002. Perkins died in 2019.
Kevin Tebedo, meanwhile, runs a business in town, and he’s ventured into fringe political movements over the years, like when he served as a delegate to an event called the “Continental Congress 2009” hosted by the We the People Foundation, a New York based nonprofit that, in its words, “protects and defends America’s federal and state constitutions.”
Ted Haggard — a husband and father of five children — was embroiled in a scandal in 2006 that cost him his job as senior pastor of the church he founded after he admitted that he’d paid a male escort for sex and that he’d used methamphetamine.
The revelations came as Colorado voters were set to vote in November 2006 on Amendment 43, an initiative backed by Focus on the Family that sought to ban same-sex marriage in the state. The amendment passed, but in November 2024, 64% of Colorado voters passed a new amendment that repealed the 2006 anti-gay clause from the state constitution.
Ted Haggard as
(Photo courtesy Pikes Peak Library District)
Haggard’s name would again land in newspapers in 2009 when allegations emerged that he, while still the pastor at New Life Church, had a nonconsensual relationship with a man from the church, and the church reportedly reached a $179,000 settlement with the man. Haggard went on to form Saint James Church in Colorado Springs in 2010, but in 2022, he sold its building. The same year, new allegations surfaced that he’d had inappropriate relationships with boys at the new church.
John Eldredge left Focus on the Family in 2000 to launch Ransomed Heart Ministries.
James Dobson died in 2025 but Focus on the Family lives on under its current president and CEO Jim Daly, and the organization continues to wield considerable power and influence in Colorado and beyond.
Where Focus on the Family and other evangelical groups targeted gay rights throughout the ’90s, today, trans people are now a popular target for these groups, and Focus on the Family is no different. While Focus on the Family still attacks the rights of every member of the LGBTQ+ community, trans people have become a particularly popular target. The group has said that trans people are a manifestation of sin and has called them “mentally ill” people who suffer from a “devastating condition.”
Some may argue that Focus on the Family is merely a religious organization that holds rigid views on gender identity, but the Southern Poverty Law Center sees these actions as something more egregious and has listed Focus on the Family, and its related activist group Family Research Council, as recognized hate groups, in part because of continued anti-LGBTQ+ stances and repeated false claims regarding gay and trans people.
The SPLC also noted that Focus on the Family in 2016 changed its tax status from a public charity to a church, a move that limits transparency by reducing public disclosure requirements around donations and executive salaries.
“Despite its status as a church, FotF has worked alongside FRC, the American College of Pediatricians (ACPeds) and Family Policy Alliance to position its supposed ministry as integral to anti-LGBTQ+ politics,” the SPLC stated. “Through the efforts of Family Policy Alliance and its network of state policy groups, [it] has provided legislative models and lobbying aid for over 24 anti-trans gender-affirming care bans.”
Three decades after Amendment 2
It would take until 1996 for Amendment 2 to fully be quashed, but by then, pernicious wounds had been inflicted to Colorado and to Colorado Springs. Though the national boycott of the 1990s harmed the state’s economy in a quantifiable manner, the financial damage suffered has likely been repaired over the past 30 years. The reputational damage, however, continues.
In preparation to move back to Colorado Springs, my wife and I first had to list our house in Albuquerque. We’d decided to make some improvements before selling it, and so, as I sat at my dining room table awaiting an estimate from a landscaper, we filled our brief time together with small talk. He asked what kind of work I did for a living. I told him I was a journalist, and apropos of nothing, he shared that he was a Democrat, possibly to let me know that he liked journalists, or at least didn’t see them as the enemy of the people.
When he asked where I was moving, I told him Colorado Springs. He stopped what he was doing, looked me in the eyes, and said, “It’s very conservative there, isn’t it?” I nodded, conceding that conservatism in the city was still very strong, but I told him that lots had changed in the last decade or so.
About a week later, during MSNBC’s coverage of Super Tuesday and Colorado’s mail-in balloting, Rachel Maddow and others praised the state for its easy and secure elections while poking fun at conspiracy theorists in places like El Paso County, which Steve Kornacki noted had a “high concentration of evangelical voters.”
The confluence of these two unrelated incidents came just as I was reconciling in my mind the Colorado Springs I’d left more than a decade ago and the one I’d soon be returning to. Had I created an idealized version of the city in my head? Or did the old version of the city simply prevail in the minds of others because they haven’t yet learned all that’s changed?
A Colorado welcome sign on the New Mexico-Colorado state line
(Photo by Ryan Lowery)
Other cities in Colorado had managed to move out of the shadow of Amendment 2, at least statistically speaking. Denver and Aspen, whose voters overwhelmingly opposed Amendment 2 and whose governments sued the state over it, today have some of the highest rankings possible by the Human Rights Campaign as one of the best cities in the state for LGBTQ+ people to live and work, based on laws and policies. In the HRC Municipal Equality Index released in November 2025, Denver scored a perfect 100 and Aspen scored 94. Boulder, and Fort Collins also claimed perfect scores, while Colorado Springs scored a respectable 82.
The Springs received high marks on the survey for its non-discrimination laws, a massive step forward from 1992 when Perkins and Colorado for Family Values attempted to block such initiatives. The city also scored well on its fair enforcement of laws, including responsible reporting of hate crimes and law enforcement engagement with the LGBTQ+ community. The city ranked zero out of 12 on municipal services though, a category that assesses the city’s efforts to ensure LGBTQ+ residents are included in city services and programs.
Still, considering the city’s inexorable association with Amendment 2, scoring an 82 seems like a significant achievement, especially when compared to the 74 Aurora scored, the 62 for Lakewood, or Littleton’s pitiful 48.
Additionally, an annual ranking from the research site SafeHome.org ranked Colorado the tenth best state in the nation for LGBTQ+ individuals. The ranking is based on factors like parenting freedoms, criminal justice rights, non-discrimination rights, youth protections, and health laws, and it incorporates rankings from the Human Rights Campaign.
Rhode Island, California, and Delaware took the top three slots. Florida ranked last.
Search for tips about moving to or living in Colorado Springs in popular forums like Reddit and you’ll find many people eager to point out that while the city has a history of conservatism rooted in religious fervor, Colorado state laws and culture are far less restrictive and intrusive than many other states, particularly states in the South along the infamous Bible Belt.
For instance, abortion remains legal in Colorado, and in 2024, that right was enshrined into the state’s constitution. Meanwhile, it’s difficult to obtain an abortion anywhere in the South, and abortion is fully illegal in many southern states, like nearby Texas and Oklahoma.
Transgender journalist Erin Reed assesses threats to trans individuals through a regularly updated Anti-Trans National Legal Risk Assessment Map that tracks anti-trans legislation. Colorado consistently ranks among the safest states for trans people, whereas southern states once again rank poorly, with Texas earning an embarrassing “do not travel” warning, as did Kansas and Florida.
Colorado was also the first state to legalize recreational cannabis, and recently, Colorado Springs even got on board by allowing recreational sales within city limits, while weed remains largely illegal across the Bible Belt.
Although much has changed in Colorado Springs in the past decade, plenty remains the same, including how others view the city. It also remains unseen whether the latest shifts will erode the city’s reputation as a bastion for evangelicals and conservative policies.
Perhaps if I’d never attended a Christian school or perhaps if Kurt Cobain’s inspiring words had been printed in the band’s 1991 album instead of one a year later, I would have spoken out when students at my school spewed hate. Perhaps if some things had been different for just a few of the 54% of voters who said yes to Amendment 2 it would never have passed in the first place. But it did and the results harmed Colorado Springs and contributed to my decision to flee. But I’m back now, and I’m elated to be here. No one can predict what the future holds for this beautiful city, but my hope is it continues its trajectory of being a welcoming place for anyone to call home.
Copyright © 2026 Ryan Lowery — All Rights Reserved
