A Different Kind of Giving When I first felt the pull to support meaningful work in the world, I turned—like most people—to organizations. I asked friends, read mission statements, scrolled websites, attended fundraisers. But I couldn’t feel the pulse of real relationship that I was looking for. I couldn’t feel the heartbeat of the mess and magic of lived connection. At times, I tried to look deeper—through back channels, through whispers behind the public face. And what I found there was often disheartening: misaligned intentions, layers of administrative excess, stories carefully curated to appease funders rather than reveal truth. What I longed for wasn’t another well-branded initiative. I longed for relationship. For trust that flows both ways. For the kind of giving that isn’t a transaction, but a shared movement toward something wild and alive. A Turning Point Then something changed. In my travels, I began to encounter people whose lives were intimately woven into the landscapes and communities around them. They weren’t waiting for permission or funding or recognition. They were simply doing the work—responding to needs they understood from within, not from above. Their knowledge came not from abstract data, but from years of attunement, kinship, and care. These were not high-profile organizations with glossy brochures. These were small-scale visionaries—tenders of ecosystems, guardians of place, connectors of people—whose work was emergent, relational, and often invisible to conventional systems of philanthropy. Over time, I built relationships with these individuals. I came to trust their integrity and understand the nuances of their work—not through metrics, but through witnessing. And I realized: this is the kind of change I want to support. Not abstract. Not institutional. But rooted, relational, and real. The Power of Story So I began to support them—first by listening. By slowing down enough to understand not just what they do, but how and why they do it. I created space for their stories, let them know they were seen and appreciated and that their voices could be heard, unfiltered and alive. I didn’t try to reshape their work to fit any expectations. I let the stories speak for themselves. And something beautiful began to happen. When I shared these stories—with friends, with those who had the capacity to give—I saw something light up. There was fascination, yes, but also recognition. A feeling of this is what I’ve been looking for. For people who had grown weary of transactional giving, they felt called back to the roots of generosity—not as charity, but as kinship. Does this Resonate? A way of supporting that:

• honors relationships over reports.
• sees depth rather than scale
• recognizes the unmet needs not only in the communities being supported, but in the hearts of those who long to give meaningfully.

Maybe you've given generously, and felt a quiet emptiness. Maybe you’ve written checks, read annual reports, seen outcomes—and still wondered if you’re really making a difference. Maybe what you’re seeking isn’t more measurable impact. Maybe it’s relationship. With a real person or community. Rooted in place. Doing the work that needs doing—not for funding, but because they can’t not do it. Maybe you’re seeking a kind of giving that brings you closer to the world, not further away. That doesn’t keep you at arm’s length, but draws you in. That doesn’t just support them but changes you. This kind of giving is slower; it’s deeper. It begins with listening. With trust. With care. And it grows through story, kinship, presence. If there’s a part of you, like me, that has craved this kind of contribution; a way to be part of something that feels more like home - You’re not alone. There is a way. You are welcome here. Respond/Add to this below or contact me and let's explore together (c.babcook@gmail.com).