Where we Began

Joy for Life began in 2020 with a simple yet powerful dream—one born not from grand plans, but from quiet compassion. At its heart was a young woman, Nicole Hopman, whose generosity showed itself not in words, but in the steady rhythm of her hands. During her senior year of high school, while the world outside grew increasingly uncertain, Nicole turned inward—toward creativity, toward care, toward others.

With yarn and needle, she began crocheting tiny animals and handmade treasures. Each stitch carried intention. Each small creation was more than just an object—it was a gesture of comfort, a symbol of connection, a soft presence meant for a child facing the unimaginable weight of terminal illness. Nicole imagined sitting beside them in hospital rooms, offering not just these handmade gifts, but her time, her kindness, her presence. In a season defined by distance and isolation, she dreamed of closeness.

Like so many in the class of 2020, Nicole’s final year was reshaped by the pandemic. Milestones dissolved, plans paused, and the world seemed to hold its breath. But where others saw stillness, Nicole saw space—space to create, to give, to dream more deeply. She refused to let that time be empty. Instead, she filled it with purpose.

Watching his daughter devote herself so fully to something so heartfelt, Ryan L. Hopman, Ph.D., recognized that this was more than a passing idea—it was the beginning of something meaningful. He understood that dreams like Nicole’s, if nurtured, could grow into something far-reaching. So while Nicole stitched hope into every creation, Ryan worked behind the scenes, navigating the complexities of paperwork, legal frameworks, and organizational foundations. Step by step, he transformed Joy for Life into a federally recognized 501(c)(3) non-profit, ensuring that Nicole’s compassion could extend far beyond what one person alone might achieve.

When Nicole left for Marquette University, stepping into the demanding world of Division I tennis while pursuing her studies in bioscience, Joy for Life entered a quiet chapter. It wasn’t forgotten—it was simply waiting, like a seed beneath the surface, gathering strength for what would come next.

That next chapter arrived in an unexpected form: horses.

Nicole discovered a deep and immediate connection to riding—something that echoed a similar passion her father had known in his own youth. What began as a personal interest soon revealed something more profound. Together, Nicole and Ryan began to explore the powerful bond between humans and animals, and how that connection could foster healing in ways that traditional medicine sometimes could not. Drawing on Ryan’s medical expertise and Nicole’s scientific studies, they found themselves drawn to the field of equine therapy—a space where emotional and physical healing intertwine, guided by trust, presence, and the quiet strength of horses.

Joy for Life was no longer just about creating comfort—it was about facilitating transformation.

And then, as if guided by something unseen, another turning point arrived.

One evening, in the kind of late-night stillness where curiosity leads without direction, Ryan found himself watching videos online. Down an unexpected path, he came across footage of Peter Ellis of the King’s Guard. It wasn’t something he had been searching for, and yet, something about it held him there. Beneath the ceremonial stillness, beyond the uniform and tradition, Ryan noticed something deeper—a quiet humanity, a kindness that seemed to radiate through even the most formal exterior.

It was an instinct more than a decision. Trusting that feeling, Ryan reached out with a simple email—no expectations, no certainty, just a genuine expression of connection.

To his surprise, Peter replied.

And in that moment—unexpected, unscripted—the story of Joy for Life opened into its next chapter, shaped not just by intention, but by the remarkable way that purpose can bring people together, even across distance and difference. And then, as if guided by something unseen, another turning point arrived.

One evening, in the kind of late-night stillness where curiosity leads without direction, Ryan found himself watching videos online. Down an unexpected path, he came across footage of Peter Ellis of the King’s Guard. It wasn’t something he had been searching for, and yet, something about it held him there. Beneath the ceremonial stillness, beyond the uniform and tradition, Ryan noticed something deeper—a quiet humanity, a kindness that seemed to exist just beneath the surface.

It would have been easy to move on, to let the moment pass like so many others. But something told him not to. Trusting that instinct, Ryan reached out with a simple email—no expectations, no plan, just a genuine sense that this connection mattered, even if he couldn’t yet explain why.

On the other side, Peter felt it too.

When he read the message, it didn’t feel random or misplaced. There was a sincerity in it, something that cut through the noise of everyday life. Though he had never heard of Joy for Life, and had no prior connection to Nicole or Ryan, the story resonated in a way that was difficult to put into words. It felt, in a quiet but undeniable way, familiar.

In Japanese tradition, there is a belief in the “red thread of fate”—an invisible cord that connects people who are destined to meet. It may stretch or tangle, but it never breaks. No matter the distance, no matter how unlikely the circumstances, those connected by the thread will one day find their way to each other.

That is what this felt like.

A young woman crocheting hope during a global pause.
A father building a foundation from love and belief.
A soldier standing still in ceremony, yet carrying his own depth of compassion.

Three lives, moving along entirely different paths, drawn together not by chance, but by something quieter and more enduring.

Peter wrote back. Not out of obligation, but because something in him recognized the same purpose, the same pull toward service and connection. And in that simple reply, the invisible thread tightened—gently, but unmistakably.

What followed was not just the continuation of Joy for Life, but its expansion into something even more meaningful: a shared understanding that healing, kindness, and human connection often begin in the most unexpected ways.

And that sometimes, the people meant to walk part of the journey with us are already tied to us—waiting, just beyond where we’re looking.