Celebrating a Founder's Legacy and the 'Little Things' That Matter Most

Celebrating a Founder’s Legacy and the ‘Little Things’ That Matter Most

“A society grows great when old men plant trees in whose shade they know they shall never sit,” goes the Greek proverb. Sadly, modern life sweeps aside this Stoic wisdom of working for the common good. In our striving culture, most daily actions are driven by the demands of productivity, professional ambitions, and personal aspirations. But certain situations shake us awake, as happened when Barry Annino received his terminal diagnosis in March 2016.

“Your legacy starts today,” his pastor, Gary Brandenburg, told him upon hearing the news. Barry believed him—and ten years later, the legacy that took root that spring is still growing.

A practical person with a nose for real estate and a head for business, Barry also had a heart for his family and the people of San Miguel de Allende, Mexico, where he spent happy summers with his wife, Debora, and daughter, Lena. Thinking of San Miguel Viejo, the indigenous community on the edge of a tourists’ mecca, he felt called to meet the needs of the children who lived there. He understood the power of small investments as the beneficiary of one himself. In his case, the gift of a tiny tennis ball helped a little boy climb out of poverty and see the world.

In his final years, Barry’s unique qualities and outlook coalesced into his legacy: The Little Things Matter Foundation, dedicated to bringing well-being and opportunity to Hispanic communities in need. The work that began with his voluntary support of a tennis camp in San Miguel Viejo became official in 2017 with the foundation’s first investment. That year, it funded organic gardens and chicken farming at Corazon Valiente, a home for abandoned children, providing healthy food for their kitchen—and it’s been growing ever since with initiatives from a summer camp to a learning center.

Speaking about the foundation’s origin story at a recent event for 100 guests, half whom had not had the opportunity to know Barry, I shared several lines from Little Things Matter: A Story of Suffering, Survival and Legacy, a book I know well as its editor. As I wrote in the foreword (excerpt published here), that summer I sat in Barry’s hospital room was like witnessing a miracle unfold. Facing the prospect of death gave him a clarity about what matters most in life.

The book combines Barry’s voice, as we captured in his chemotherapy sessions, with Debora’s journal entries, giving spiritual weight to his raw perspective. Take these two passages, for example:

SUFFERING LONELINESS | Words from Barry, April 10, 2016:

Debbie is here in the hospital a lot, which helps. But sometimes she is sleeping. One night I had so much pain that I cried and screamed and kept pushing that nurse button. It’s like being stabbed in the liver. But the stent saved my life, so there’s that. If I hadn’t turned yellow and had this pain, I would not have learned that I had the cancer until it was too late. The human factor really comes in at 2 a.m. The support group is really important, because in the middle of the night I had to send out messages…You’ve got to get a support group.

PAIN IS LIFE | Words from Debora, April 24, 2016:

My go-to quiet place is running—or walking very long distances. During this time, I meditate, pray, and in the solitude of this space, I sometimes hear that small voice deep within my spirit—the subtle yet profound voice of God. Thursday, after Barry’s stent surgery and after visiting his mother, I needed a dose of this spiritual therapy, so I went for a run. I prayed about the pain that each of them experiences: Barry’s physical pain from his stent surgery to dilate his closed bile duct, and his mother’s emotional pain from years of accumulated fear. God reminded me that on the other side of pain is life. In running marathons and walking 500 miles, one incurs pain. But through enduring the pain, we find celebration at the end. Pain makes us stronger, and celebration is sweeter because of one’s ability to persevere.

Standing at a celebration of these founders ten years later, I read from their little book of great wisdom. Here, we have two lessons, one that conveys the power of community and the other, the clarity in pain. The supporters who helped Barry get through his dark night later became supporters of his purpose. That purpose became clear through pain, which cleaned the lens, allowing a different quality of beauty to shine through. To see life through this lens is to see beyond shallow or fleeting beauty, toward the sort of beauty that pulls you in with its divine gravity. That is the lens through which Barry and Debora could see the worth and potential in a forgotten people.

Through Debora’s unwavering commitment and leadership, the foundation that Barry envisioned in 2016 now includes a donor community across Texas and Mexico, who together, form a bridge across nations. In 2024, the Little Things Matter Foundation formalized this bridge by establishing a Mexican organization, Las Pequeñas Cosas Importan, and acquiring the nonprofit, Ojalá Niños, which served as Barry’s original partner in this work. My appreciation for their mission deepened further after I helped chronicle the history of this indigenous community, San Miguel Viejo, in editing another book, The Open Gate, authored by Ojalá Niños founder, Elsmarie Norby.

Today, I see clearly how the tree Barry planted is growing into a mighty oak. Ten years after he wrote about suffering and his wishes for the children of San Miguel Viejo, the Norby-Annino Roots of Hope Learning & Community Center was inaugurated. It provides a safe and welcoming space to conduct educational programs for children, sewing cooperative and workshops for women, and space for the community to gather.

For someone whose level of faith at that time might best be described as a mustard seed, this editor can vouch that seeing these founders’ faith in action has bolstered her own. Their sincere interest in empowering vulnerable children exemplifies a rare dedication to the teachings of Jesus to “love thy neighbor” and serve “the least of these.” Their story also proves that we needn’t be pillars of perfection to leave an enduring legacy. If we lean on faith, serve our community, and humbly bring our gifts to the table as offerings for the common good, wondrous things will grow from it.