A Letter To Our Supporters

A Letter to Our Supporters

Written Sunday morning, the day after Family Fun Day.

As I sit here on Sunday morning, the day after our Family Fun Day, tears are rolling down my face.

I decided to sit down and write this letter to you.

Yesterday was beautiful.

Watching our community come together. Seeing children running around and playing, hearing the squeals of laughter. Talking with people, sharing stories, connecting with the wonderful people who came, watching our volunteers give so much of themselves. As yesterday wrapped up and everyone went home, I was filled with so much love in my heart.

I felt grateful for our community. Grateful for every volunteer who continues to show up beside us. Grateful for this work and for the privilege of getting to do it.

And I don't want anything I'm about to share to take away from how grateful I am for yesterday.

But this morning, I woke up feeling something very different.

The financial pressure came flooding back in.

And I feel very vulnerable admitting that.

I want everyone to believe that U Grow Girl is doing wonderfully. That the bills are being paid, the funding is flowing in, and we can continue doing this work in abundance.

But the reality behind the scenes is very different.

It never seems like enough.

Yesterday was a beautiful event, but we didn't raise what we needed to raise.

And part of me hates even measuring a day like yesterday by the dollars it brought in.

I want these events to be about community.

I want them to be about bringing people together. Children laughing and playing. Conversations happening. People getting to know who we are and why this work matters.

Of course we need these events to raise money. That's part of why we hold them.

But I don't want every beautiful thing we create to have to carry the weight of keeping U Grow Girl going.

I want there to be room for some things to simply be about community, connection and bringing people together.

But right now, the financial reality is that we need them to do both.

And when the tents come down and the tables are put away, the bills are still there.

There is bookkeeping and accounting. Legal fees as we work through becoming a registered charity. Insurance. Program expenses. The everyday overhead required simply to keep an organization like ours alive.

There is the November retreat lingering in the back of my mind — seven women who deserve the opportunity to experience what we know can happen when survivors are given the time, safety and space to heal.

I don't share that for sympathy. I share it because I don't think people always see this side of nonprofit work.

We barely sleep.

I find myself awake at four in the morning, my mind ruminating.

How do we raise more money?

Where do I find donors?

Who else can I reach out to?

What am I missing in these grants?

What do I need to do differently?

It is never-ending.

And some days, like today, I feel like I'm failing.

Why is it so hard?

What am I doing wrong?

I ask myself over and over and over again, what am I doing wrong?

I find myself asking, where is the flow? Where is the abundance?

I know what we're doing is good.

I know it changes lives.

So why is it so hard?

The truth is, I was never meant to be a fund developer.

I was meant to lead programs. I was meant to sit with survivors, share my story and connect with them through the heart. I was meant to help create our retreats. I was meant to stand beside our volunteers and watch a community rally around something that matters.

And there is so much good here.

But sometimes the financial stress hangs over all of it like a dark cloud.

I know we need help.

A beautiful volunteer, Adrienne, recently stepped forward to help me with grants and supported me through our latest round of applications.

Thank you, Adrienne.

I'm also considering putting out a call for someone with fund development experience who may be willing to volunteer with us until we can secure the funding to actually pay someone for that role.

I know what we're doing is so good.

And it's needed.

When a dear friend of mine asked me the other day if I would ever consider quitting, if maybe it was just too hard and it was time to let go... without hesitation, I said NEVER.

I have sat beside the women who attend our retreats.

I am also one of those women.

I am a survivor of child sexual abuse too.

I know what it is to live with a darkness that has had its grip on you for a whole lifetime.

To carry shame so deeply that it becomes how you see yourself.

I know what it is to finally step into a space with other survivors and realize that maybe you don't have to live under the weight of it forever.

I haven't just watched what can happen in spaces like this.

I've experienced it.

And now I get to watch it happen for other women.

I have seen women arrive carrying shame that was never theirs to carry and leave standing in their truth, having found love and grace for themselves they never knew they always needed.

I have seen friendships form that continue long after the retreat ends.

I know this work changes lives.

Because I was given this gift too. And it changed me.

What I don't know is why keeping it alive has to feel so hard.

Today I'm sharing this because it's easy to share the wins.

It's easy to share the beautiful photographs, the flowers, the smiling volunteers, the events and the moments when everything feels like it's working.

It's much harder to share the dark cloud that sometimes follows us behind the scenes.

The restless nights.

The endless tears.

The stress our bodies carry physically and emotionally.

The mind that won't stop trying to solve the next financial problem.

The heart that aches because you know what is possible if only you can find the resources to keep doing it.

So today, I'm asking for help.

Because right now, I don't know what else to do.

And even writing those words feels uncomfortable.

If I'm really truthful, I feel shame writing this.

It touches that old not enough wound in me. The part of me that wonders if I should have figured this out by now. The part of me that doesn't want anyone to look at U Grow Girl — or at me — and think I've failed.

I don't want to look like a failure.

But hiding the hard parts because I'm ashamed of them doesn't make them any less real.

And then once again ... I remember who I'm asking for.

I know finances are difficult for so many people. Groceries cost more. Housing costs more. Everything costs more, and for many families, wages haven't kept up.

So I'm not asking anyone to give beyond what feels comfortable.

I'm asking for $10 or $20.

Nothing more.

An amount that you can give without creating strain in your own life.

And if $10 or $20 is something you could give each month, maybe you would consider becoming a monthly donor.

Because knowing that even a small amount is going to be there month after month gives us something we desperately need right now:

a little bit of certainty.

And if monthly giving isn't possible, please know that a one-time donation means just as much to us.

And then I'm going to ask you for something that might be just as important:

Tell one friend.

Share this letter with one person and ask them if they might give $10 or $20 too.

Because if 100 people each give $20, that's $2,000.

That's one of the bills hanging over our heads.

And maybe your friend tells another friend.

Maybe this reaches someone we've never met.

Maybe someone who has been looking for a way to help survivors finds us because you shared our story.

Asking for help is hard.

But then I remember who I'm asking for.

I carry every woman who has walked through the doors of a Time to Heal Retreat in my heart.

And I carry the women still waiting.

164 women.

I carry their stories.

I have witnessed the transformations.

I know what can happen when a survivor is surrounded by other women who understand, when shame begins to loosen its grip, and when she gets to experience that healing is possible.

So this morning, with tears still rolling down my face and with all the vulnerability I can muster, I'm asking:

Please help us keep going.

Choose a one-time gift or become a monthly donor.

Donate $10.

Donate $20.

Become a monthly donor if you can.

Share this with a friend.

Tell someone about U Grow Girl.

Because maybe none of us has to carry the whole thing.

Maybe we just need enough people willing to carry a little piece of it with us.

With so much love and gratitude,

Co-Founder, U Grow Girl

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