Tapping Into a New Generation of Donors

Nonprofits grow because people believe in something bigger than themselves. For decades, that belief came from donors who gave out of deep loyalty. Many of them supported the same organizations year after year. They showed up at every event. They wrote checks without needing to see charts or metrics. They trusted the work because they trusted the people doing it.

Their generosity kept communities stable. They built parks, funded programs, sustained food banks, and supported the arts. They gave because they saw it as part of being a good neighbor. Their giving felt steady and rooted in tradition. Nonprofits today still stand on that foundation.

But a shift is happening. A new generation of donors is stepping forward, and they carry different expectations. They want to understand the impact. They want clarity and connection. They want to feel part of the work instead of standing outside it. They do not give out of habit. They give because something resonates with them on a personal level.

This shift is not a sign of decline. It is a sign of change. Nonprofits can honor longtime donors while adapting to new needs. Meeting people where they are is the key.

Younger donors move fast. They live online. They absorb stories in small pieces. They look for authenticity instead of formality. They want to see the mission in action. Social media becomes a doorway for them. A quick update or a simple explanation earns their attention. A real story earns their trust.

They look for values. They want to support organizations that reflect what they care about. They pay attention to how nonprofits communicate, collaborate, and handle challenges. They respect transparency. They respond to consistency.

They also want participation. They want volunteer opportunities. They want hands-on experiences. They want to feel their impact instead of only reading about it. This creates a sense of ownership that builds long-term support.

None of this replaces the steady giving of the generations before. It adds another layer. A healthy nonprofit keeps both groups in mind. It honors the supporters who carried the mission through quiet years. It welcomes a younger generation that brings new ideas and new energy. It tells clear stories. It creates real connections. It shows how every dollar becomes action.

The future of giving sits in the space between tradition and evolution. The older generation reminds us why giving matters. The younger generation reminds us how giving changes. Both matter. Both shape the mission. Both deserve a place in the story.

A nonprofit that understands this balance will stay relevant. It will stay trusted. It will stay connected to the people it serves. And as the world moves faster, that connection becomes the anchor that keeps the work strong.

What City Council Work Means to Me

Serving on city council changed how I see my community. I stepped into the role because I wanted to help, but I did not realize how much it would shape me. The work feels personal in a way that is hard to explain. I grew up here. I know the streets and the stories. I know the pride people carry and the frustrations they hold. I feel a responsibility to honor all of it.

City leadership is not glamorous. Most of the work happens in long meetings, late-night reading, and steady problem solving. People often imagine heated debates and big decisions. The truth is quieter. The truth is hours spent digging through zoning codes, budgets, and maintenance reports. The truth is conversations with residents who tell you what is not working and what they hope you fix. Every detail matters because every detail touches someone’s life.

I see the weight of trust in every vote. A council seat is not a title. A council seat is a promise. I promised to pay attention. I promised to ask hard questions. I promised to keep learning and stay open. The role pushed me to grow. It pushed me to stay steady in tense moments and clear in confusing ones. It taught me patience. It taught me how to listen with intention.

People think city government is a machine. It is not. It is a group of humans trying to move a community forward. We work within laws and ordinances that set clear boundaries. We follow procedures that protect fairness. It can feel slow because it is designed to be careful. That slow, careful work often gets mistaken for secrecy. I see the frustration when people assume we hide things. I understand the worry. But the truth sits in the open. The truth sits in documents, minutes, and decisions that anyone can read. The truth sits in the effort to answer as many questions as we can.

The best part of city council work is seeing progress happen in small, steady steps. A repaired road. A new program. A safer intersection. These are improvements most people forget about by the next week, but they add up. They shape the daily rhythm of a town. They make life a little easier and a little better.

The hardest part is knowing you cannot fix everything. Some problems sit outside our authority. Some depend on state or federal rules. Some take funding we do not have. I learned that the work is not about solving every issue. The work is about showing up and doing what you can with the tools you have.

Being on city council gave me a deeper love for my town. It made me more patient with others and more aware of how much effort is required to make a community function. It taught me that leadership is not loud. Leadership is consistent. Leadership is honest. Leadership is willing to carry responsibility even when no one sees the weight of it.

I am grateful for my time on council. The role shaped my path forward. It prepared me for the work I do now. It strengthened my belief in showing up for the place you call home. I hope more people choose to get involved. A community grows stronger when more voices take part.

Local government can feel distant until you step into it. Then you realize it is built by everyday people who care. That is the part that stays with me and why I keep at it. The heart of a town lives in the people who commit to its future.

The Future of Giving: Why Intentional Generosity Still Matters

 With my nonprofit, most of our financial support still comes through the mail. Actual envelopes, handwritten checks, return addresses. It’s funny because our social media pages are full of likes, shares, and comments. Those followers rarely overlap with our donor list. We’re working hard to meet people wherever they are, to appeal to their sense of community in a way that fits their life. Still, I can’t ignore what that divide says about how giving has changed.

We live in a time when attention is currency. Causes compete with trends, and generosity can feel fleeting. The impulse to help hasn’t disappeared, but it’s filtered through screens and algorithms that reward what’s seen over what’s sustained. I often wonder what happens when we stop teaching people the patience of giving, the kind that builds over years instead of moments.

Leading a nonprofit has taught me that generosity isn’t just about money. It’s about time, attention, and belief. It’s about people who show up again and again because they understand that community isn’t built in a single transaction. The work we do depends on relationships that grow over years, not clicks.

There’s a rhythm to this kind of giving. It’s slower, quieter, and deeply human. When I talk with long-time donors, they remember the faces, not the posts. They talk about the first event they attended or the teacher who made them care about the arts, the environment, or local families in need. Their giving is rooted in experience, not exposure.

Still, the world moves faster every year. It’s easy to feel like you’re always chasing relevance instead of building trust. We post, email, text, and advertise, trying to hold attention long enough to tell our story. But what really makes people stay is connection, the sense that their support matters because it’s part of something real.

I often think about the people who came before us. They didn’t need reminders to give. They gave because they saw themselves as part of something larger. They understood that a thriving community depends on steady hands and shared effort. Their gifts built the foundations many of us now manage and benefit from.

That kind of intentional generosity feels rare today. We move quickly. We support what trends. We scroll past more causes than we engage with. But the future of giving depends on slowing down enough to notice what’s right in front of us. It depends on choosing connection over convenience.

When we give with intention, we remind each other that community still matters. It matters in our neighborhoods, in our schools, and in every organization trying to make life a little better. The world will keep speeding up. Our job is to keep caring at a human pace.