By Sharla Kershen. July 25th, 2026
I woke up this morning thinking about Brittaney.
I thought about the ray of sunshine she was. I remembered our days together in small group at church, theheartbreak when cancer entered her life, and the pure joy that lit up her face the first time she climbed onto Beau. That smile changed my life forever.
Brittaney was born with a heart three sizes too large. After years of medical challenges, she began having seizures, and a heart transplant became her only option. The transplant saved her life, but it came at a cost. Because of complications, Brittaney would live with the cognitive abilities of a second grader. Yet she was one of the most joyful people I have ever known. She had a way of bringing light into every room she entered.
In her twenties, years of taking anti-rejection medication led to transplant-related cancers. Although she eventually went into remission, something had changed. Some of that joyful spark had faded.
Around that same time, I had rediscovered my own joy through horses. I suggested to her mom that she bring Brittaney out to the barn to ride. The moment Brittaney climbed onto Beau, she absolutely radiated. She shone like a beacon of light. Watching the two of them together changed my life forever. 
That day planted a seed that eventually became New Hope.
The journey wasn’t quick or easy. It meant starting a 501(c)(3) nonprofit, purchasing land, becoming a certified therapeutic riding instructor, building paddocks and an arena, and creating a program from the ground up. Through it all, I never forgot the reason it had begun.
When Brittaney finally came to New Hope, it was one of the best days imaginable. When Beau later joined the New Hope herd, it was even better. The bond between Brittaney and Beau was extraordinary. He cared for her with such gentleness, and she flourished with him. She learned to steer, ride in half-seat, trot, post, and even canter. New Hope became Brittaney’s happy place.
It wasn’t just the horses that brought her joy. Her smile while loving on the baby goats was just as contagious. Whenever she was here, she filled the farm with happiness, and we were all better because of it.
I wish Brittaney’s story ended with a Hollywood-style happy ending, but it doesn’t.
After so many years on anti-rejection medications, her kidneys began to fail. She entered the hospital for what would become her final stay.
Wanting to bring her a little piece of New Hope, I borrowed ababy goat and took it to the hospital. The staff understandably didn’t want a goat in her room, so Brittaney came downstairs to meet it instead. She wasn’t speaking by then, but she gently petted the little goat and managed the sweetest smile. Every moment was worth it.
Before I left, I told her the goat was hers to name. Her mom quietly reminded me that Brittaney wasn’t talking, so I shouldn’t expect an answer.
The very next morning, my phone rang.
It was Brittaney.
She called to tell me the goat’s name was Oreo.
She didn’t live much longer after that. Later, her brother told me she had watched the video of Oreo over and over the night before she passed away.
Brittaney came just a few weeks shy of her twenty-fifth birthday.
Her passing left an enormous hole in the hearts of everyone who loved her, including mine. But her story didn’t end there. Her legacy lives on every single day at New Hope.
She was the inspiration.
Because of Brittaney, hundreds—perhaps thousands—of lives have been touched through the healing power of horses, animals, and hope. Every rider who finds confidence, every family that discovers encouragement, and every smile shared at New Hope is part of the legacy she left behind.
You will never be forgotten, sweet Brittaney.
A life beautifully lived.
Brittaney Hilt
August 17, 1993 – July 25, 2017
That is a beautiful story! It is very inspiring. But Sharla your heart has always inspired me. I wish I could have known Britteny.