Building Bridges
Four Years of DO Philanthropy — Entering Year Five
“See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it? I am making a way in the wilderness and streams in the wasteland.” — Isaiah 43:19
FEBRUARY 14 HAS LONG HELD A SACRED PLACE IN MY LIFE. It was once the anniversary of a promise shared with my husband. After becoming a widow, I had to learn to carry that date differently.
Four years ago, I chose not to let it be defined only by grief. On February 14, 2022, DO Philanthropy was born — not as a business strategy, but as redemption.
Long before it had a name, this work was a quiet calling. A sense that I was meant to strengthen leaders, steady organizations, and help generosity flow more freely where good work was already underway.
Launching the firm was not ambition. It was obedience.
What I did not anticipate was that this calling would become shared. The Lord drew others in — friends who became associates, colleagues who became co-builders. Together we have walked valleys and mountaintops, navigated weighty decisions, stretched capacity, and practiced quiet courage behind the scenes.
What began in grief became a bridge.
And for four years, we have kept building.
The Bridges We’ve Been Building
Early on, I assumed charities primarily needed stronger fundraising tactics — clearer messaging, better campaigns, more confident major gift conversations.
Those matter.
But walking closely with boards and executive leaders revealed something deeper.
Most organizations do not lack effort.
They lack alignment.
Alignment between governance and vision.
Between mission and financial planning.
Between donor communication and lived impact.
Between faith and financial courage.
Sustained generosity is rarely a tactics problem.
It is a structural one.
When boards embrace shared responsibility, when leaders gain clarity, and when donor systems are built intentionally, generosity becomes steadier — not episodic or urgency-driven, but grounded.
Faith, Courage, and “More Than Enough”
Working deeply in Christian philanthropy has reinforced something essential for me: Faith and strategy are not opposites.
There is often hesitation around ambition — a quiet confusion between humility and under-asking. But generosity in Scripture was never timid. In Exodus, offerings flowed so freely there was more than enough.
Not scarcity driven. Overflowing.
That is the kind of philanthropy we are committed to cultivating — courageous, disciplined, and rooted in calling.
What Clients Reflect Back
When clients speak about our work, they rarely start with tactics.
They speak about steadiness.
About clarity and calm in complex seasons.
About excellence that lifts significant weight at critical moments.
About evaluation that feels collaborative rather than clinical.
About decisions sharpened in real time.
One leader, walking through one of the hardest years of her life, once said perhaps it could become the “best worst year.” That reframing became an anchor — a way to move forward with courage inside constraint.
These reflections humble me.
Because this work is not transactional.
It is relational.
Philanthropy is not primarily about money.
It is about people stewarding influence for impact that outlives them.
To be invited into boardrooms, campaigns, evaluations, and personal seasons of doubt is a sacred trust.
We hold it carefully.
The Team Behind the Work
The associates of DO Philanthropy are more than consultants.
They are friends.
We have grown together — personally and professionally. We have refined ideas, wrestled through capacity, celebrated quiet wins, and carried large responsibilities with shared strength.
Individually, each brings unique gifts — clarity, creativity, discernment, encouragement, and connection.
Together, those gifts form infrastructure.
An agency that gives agency.
And that infrastructure is built not only on expertise, but on friendship.
Four Years In — Entering Year Five
Four years is not long.
But it is long enough to see patterns.
Meaningful progress rarely comes through sweeping gestures. It comes through attention. Through slowing down. Through asking one more question. Through choosing alignment over speed.
Small things, offered faithfully, become infrastructure.
February 14 will always hold memory.
It now also holds mission.
If I have learned anything, it is this:
Redemption is rarely dramatic.
It is built — decision by decision.
If a day marked by loss can become life-giving, then perhaps the hard thing in front of you — the weighty decision, the hesitant step, the calling you are unsure you are ready for — can become ground for courage.
Not spectacle.
Steady obedience.
Bridges are not built in a day.
But once built, they carry weight.
As we enter year five, we remain committed to building bridges — between faith and financial strength, governance and generosity, grief and growth.
Still becoming.
Still building.
Still trusting that what is redeemed can be multiplied.
And that generosity, when grounded in structure and courage, becomes more than enough.
If you are standing in a moment that feels heavy, take the next faithful step. What feels like loss can become a foundation. What feels unfinished can become infrastructure.
Build the bridge in front of you.
“May the favour of the Lord our God rest on us; establish the work of our hands for us — yes, establish the work of our hands.” — Psalm 90:17