The Foraker Group

There are times in everyone’s life that feel especially difficult. These experiences can be unnoticed by many, even while they feel intense and all-consuming to the people experiencing them. Then there are times when we have a more collective experience of hardship. In these moments, it may not be something you experience directly, but you are still drawn into it in ways that spur you to action and help you pause to consider the ramifications. This is such a time.

During the pandemic, I often reflected that we are all in the same ocean, but we are not in the same boat. Indeed, depending on one’s geography, health status, age, and many other privileges and complications, the pandemic felt very different at a personal level. Nonprofits also had a varied experience, with some doubling or tripling in requests for service while simultaneously losing funding and volunteers. At the same time, others had to temporarily shut their doors in the name of public health, while still carrying the weight of mission continuity and community value. To a person and to an organization, we both understood each other’s circumstances, or didn’t, and yet collectively many Alaskans rose to the occasion to do what they could, when they could, with what they had, to make life just a little bit easier for someone else.

Recently in Alaska, we have found ourselves in a parallel situation. We will remember Typhoon Halong for its power to rip across our western coast into people’s homes and across whole communities, leaving people and pets without solid ground in its wake.

Maybe you know someone who was impacted directly, or maybe it is you, or maybe you don’t, but you do know what happened next. Alaskans, and eventually people from across the globe, responded. Urban and rural nonprofits, local governments, tribes, and school districts mobilized together. Indigenous people and groups led and insisted on a culturally centered and competent response, and many followed with all their grace. The Red Cross and so many disaster-focused missions, that we can always count on in a disaster, rallied in their best ways, and together, Alaskans showed up with traditional foods and dance, prayer, and care for people experiencing almost unexplainable urban culture shock.

At the same time, all the animal welfare groups got to work doing what they do best in synchronicity often reserved for large organizations, not grassroots, mostly all volunteer nonprofits. Our National Guard cared for people and pets, and our state and federal partners rallied with all their skills.

Along the way, millions of dollars have been raised from companies, people, and foundations from near and far. If one was feeling a loss of hope in this deeply divided country, there was little sign of that in these moments. And it is not done. People will be displaced from their homes, traditional hunting and fishing grounds, and communities and each other for a long time, and so our energy and efforts must match the longevity of this disaster. Alaskans are counting on it.

If this were the only disaster unfolding right now, that would be enough, but it is not.

Because of the federal government shutdown, we have very personal and also very significant disasters to contend with. Many federal employees are going without pay in a state that has more federal employees than most. And, more than 66,000 Alaskans (many of them children) are not receiving their SNAP benefits, even though three court orders have required the federal government to act immediately. Hunger is so personal, and it is also a signal of how a community shows up for each other. And so, again, Alaskans are getting creative and diving in, turning little libraries into food pantries and hosting impromptu food drives and collecting money for nonprofit food banks and pantries and their neighbors. Alaskans are giving, talking, and doing what they can because that is how we show up for each other. And this too will take some time. Even once people have access to their benefits, the nonprofits will need help to restock, reset, and readjust to a new level of need in our communities because once people go hungry, many other parts of the safety net get stretched beyond their intended strength.

Highlighting these two very different disasters is both a moment to understand the human toll people are facing and nonprofits are navigating. Simultaneously, it is our opportunity to also see and feel gratitude in real time.

I am thinking about gratitude right now more than ever, because this year has been like no other I can remember in the many decades I have been in nonprofit service. It is true that disasters are not uncommon in our sector, and we have proven over and over that we are adaptable, ready, and incredibly resilient as life dishes out its best and its worst to those we show up for every day. But the backdrop of these moments has changed.

For example, until this year, I would have characterized my role at Foraker and the sector as a whole as showing up mostly to “advance” and “support” our missions, our communities, and the sector as a whole, come what may. In my case, the very role of capacity building and even our role as a state association is mostly focused on “improve” and “inspire” even during a crisis. Now, in contrast, my external role, and maybe yours too, is so much about “protect” and “defend” because every day, these days, there is a new thing or disaster to think about, worry about, and take action around. This is just where we get to lead from, you and me.

So, if this is you, too, or true for those around you that you care about, then for even more reasons, I want to encourage you to take time to see the small and incredible acts of generosity in our Alaska communities right now and for a long time to come.

Gratitude is possible in every direction. Look around. Look in the mirror. Look in your team. Look up. Look out. Help someone else see, too.

Amazingness is happening.

Can you see…

• Those leading nonprofits who are stepping in and stepping up, even when staffing is short and funding is extra tight.
• Those staffing nonprofits who might be experiencing one or both of these disasters firsthand and still showing up with grace and courage to help others.
• Those who are finding traditional and creative ways to give back to the people and communities they care about with food and dance, and clothes and food, and also with time and money.
• Those who are living these moments so personally for your willingness to accept help, even if or when it feels so very hard to ask and receive.
• Those who see the possibilities of what happens when we come together across sectors (government, nonprofits, and business) to do more good together, rather than apart, and then are willing to find those ways forward.
• Those who speak up, stand up, reach out, and raise their voice and their hands to hold all of us, including you, accountable to a better life for everyone.
• Those who are doing the less noticed, less glitzy, less fun, but the most meaningful work that improves so many lives—people, animals, the planet.
• And those who are leading with love in every step, regardless of title or tenure, age or mission.

Can you see them? Are you one of them?

In Alaska, we know how to take care of each other. We know how to help each other, our animals, and our communities in a snowstorm or in a flood, or when someone is hungry and in need of food or art, music, dance, or prayer to feed themselves and their soul.

These are the moments to watch as we each rise to the call in the ways we know how. These are the moments to turn to each other on our teams and give freely of our appreciation of one another and the gifts that each person brings to work each day.

These are the spaces and places to pause and savor.

And in so doing, I hope it will in turn nourish you to keep going – even when it is hard – especially when it is hard. We can do hard things together. We can find, receive, and give gratitude together.

With all my gratitude,

Laurie