Outside My Norm

I might not have ever thought nonprofit development would be part of my dossier, but thanks to the help of a great board of directors, the encouragement of friends and family, and the generosity of donors, here I am—proud to be the president of the …

I might not have ever thought nonprofit development would be part of my dossier, but thanks to the help of a great board of directors, the encouragement of friends and family, and the generosity of donors, here I am—proud to be the president of the Ray Barron Strength & Honor Fund.

When I set off on my own to start my business in 2019 after an entire adulthood of being employed by others, I had a pretty good idea what I’d be doing: creating content, providing insights and advice to develop 360-degree campaigns, developing disruptions and new ideas, multi-platform marketing—the things I’ve done for the last 20-plus years for other people, but now doing it on my own terms.

Things definitely started out that way. But with my dad’s diagnosis of glioblastoma in January of 2020, I found myself in a new field: development. I started working with a small group of friends and family to develop a scholarship fund in my dad’s honor. I had no clue what I was doing, and the board members were clearly delusional when they decided I should be president. Luckily they had experience in this kind of endeavor, so we managed to push through all the tough parts—receiving 501(c)3 status, putting together articles of incorporation and bylaws, getting recognized by the state, etc.

Pushing through the tough parts is relative, I suppose. When I set my sights on this mission, I had no idea how hard it would be at times, especially how brutally emotional developing a charity in my dad’s name could be. But there were also positive aspects. It’s heartwarming to work alongside people who loved and respect my dad so much. We celebrate feeling accomplished after overcoming each obstacle that stands in our way. The most surprising benefit might be how it’s helped me process my grief.

I won’t lie. I’ve about given up probably seventeen times since we started working on this almost a year ago. Sometimes everything felt impossible. (It wasn’t.) Sometimes I felt completely alone. (I wasn’t.) Sometimes I wondered if it would even work or if it mattered. (It did, and it does.) These negative thoughts were all part of working through my grief after my dad passed away in October. But, every time I felt like throwing up my hands in defeat, I thought about my dad. Sure, he’d be fine with me walking away if I really didn’t think I could do it. But he’d also tell me not to let myself or my team down. Instead, I’d take a few deep breaths, confide in people I trust who’ve been through similar circumstances, and refocus.

When I step back and look at the Ray Barron Strength & Honor Fund, I see a lifetime of love and respect for my dad; an intersection of my skills and collaboration with other skill sets to set up, promote, and activate this endeavor; and a world of opportunity. I might not have ever thought I’d be working in nonprofit development, but here I am, learning as I go. I’m proud to say the board’s efforts and generous donors have us near our goal of raising $50,000 before the end of 2021—we haven’t even been an entity for six months. I can’t wait to see what’s next, but especially to honor our first class of recipients next year and continue my dad’s legacy.

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