Troy Beaver was weighing three job offers when his dad’s hospice nurse told him what keeps her going every day.

“It’s knowing that this could be this person’s last day on earth, and maybe I do something that puts a smile on their face,” she told him. “I could be the last positive thing that happens to this person in their lifetime.”

At that moment, Beaver decided to reject those offers – all in corporations like the one he had just left – and heed the voice urging him to find work that made a tangible difference in people’s lives.

Today, Beaver is Homeland’s new director of development, filling the role held by beloved Betty Hungerford after she retired. He is responsible for supporting Homeland’s fiscal health and long-term viability through philanthropic and charitable giving.

When the opportunity came along, he wasn’t sure he was right for the role. He spent months talking to people at Homeland – including Hungerford – “and prayed long and hard about it.”

“Now, since I’ve been here, I’ve been asking myself why I didn’t do this 30 years ago,” he said.

Beaver was born and raised in Chambersburg, PA. At age 19, he entered the U.S. Air Force, utilizing his fluency in Spanish to serve in military intelligence during a time of political turmoil in Central America.

Even before separating from the military after four years, he started working at Citibank in Hagerstown, MD, filling a need for someone to work with Spanish-speaking customers.

That job blossomed into a director in Citibank operations, taking him all over the world including Europe, South America, Central America and India.

After about 30 years, he started wondering if he wanted to continue.

“I had a feeling that there was something different,” he said. “There’s got to be something more.”

Around that time Citibank downsized and eliminated his job, and after meeting with Barry Ramper II, Homeland President and CEO, it was suggested he could be right for Homeland’s development director.

Beaver’s wife reminded him that he had been praying for “something different,” and the answer was right in front of him.

At Homeland, Beaver has discovered people impassioned about their work in ways that are different than the corporate settings in which he previously worked.

“The staff here embraces the fact that this is a person’s home,” he said. “It’s not a care home. It is their home. That’s the big difference.”

Amid the financial pressures facing today’s nonprofits, Beaver is striving to build on Homeland’s base of donors for decades to come.

“Homeland is 158-years strong,” Beaver said. “But we recognize that we need to always be thinking about how we can ensure we are here to care for our community for generations to come.”

While Beaver brings experience using technology to streamline the search for potential donors, he knows that software isn’t what obtains grants and donations. His solemn task is to build relationships. Hungerford, who was Homeland’s development director for 20 years, reminded him that building relationships takes time.

“Building trust is the most important thing,” he said. “And that takes really getting to know people.”

Beaver and his wife, Lisa, have been married for 36 years and have two sons and a granddaughter. In his leisure time, he plays one of his 12 guitars, including a custom-made Jennings that “is the most incredible guitar, with incredible detail.”

With his former Christian rock band, Prodigal, he has recorded two CDs and jokes that he is an “international recording star” because three of those CDs sold outside the U.S.

Beaver looks forward to continuing to get to know Homeland residents and building relationships with donors.

“I’m getting a really big friend base here,” he said. “All I can hope for is that in the time I’ve gotten to know Homeland’s residents and its family of supporters, I’ve been a bright spot for them and made them happy.”