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.
