For the past three years, I’ve had the privilege of volunteering with a local nonprofit whose mission is close to my heart. I’ve seen the incredible impact this organization has on the community, and I care deeply about helping it thrive—especially now, when some major funding sources have been cut.
Recently, I sat down with the founder to share a few ideas on how we might raise funds. I suggested that we highlight the powerful stories of the people being helped by the organization.
The response?
“We have some of the best storytellers in the state helping us. You need to read your emails.”
I paused.
Embarrassed? Yes. For her, mostly.
Confused? Also yes.
But here’s what’s been sitting with me: I had read the emails. More than that, I’d spoken with several other volunteers and asked if they knew about the various programs the organization supports—and why. None of them did. It wasn’t just me.
Which tells me this: the story isn’t being told as clearly or consistently as we might think.
Wouldn’t it have been powerful if, instead of redirecting the issue back to me, the response had been something like:
“We’ve got to fix that. All our volunteers need to know our history, our mission, and the ways we serve the community. How can we work together to make that happen?”
But that wasn’t the response. Instead, I felt dismissed. And because of my own history, it was hard not to internalize it—hard not to feel like I had done something wrong just by trying to contribute.
Still, I kept asking questions, trying to understand. It’s hard to keep generating ideas when you’re feeling dismissed—but I care deeply about this work, so I kept going.
The Pattern Begins to Show
“What do you think about hosting a 5K?” I asked next.
“We’ve already thought about that and ran the numbers. It’s not worth the effort.”
Deep breath.
“Sounds like you’ve tried everything, then,” I replied.
To which she smiled warmly and said:
“I love your passion. Please keep bringing your ideas to me.”
Encouraged again, I offered another:
Since there’s a fundraising brunch coming up, what about adding a donation page to the website? I’ve used similar tools to help raise tens of thousands for other causes.
“We don’t have the bandwidth,” she said.
“We only have two staff members. And filling a $200,000 gap from private donors just isn’t possible.”
And that’s when I stopped.
Not because I ran out of ideas—
But because I realized: just because someone says they want your ideas doesn’t mean they actually do.
A Pattern I Didn’t See at First
After that conversation, I started talking with other volunteers—and even a board member. It turns out I wasn’t alone. Many of them had brought forward ideas, only to be met with similar kinds of resistance.
This isn’t new. It didn’t start with the recent funding loss.
I believe the issue runs deeper.
It stems from something I’ve seen in both nonprofit and for-profit spaces: an insecurity in leadership.
When someone doesn’t feel fully confident or safe in their role, new ideas don’t feel helpful—they feel threatening. Not because the ideas are bad, but because the leader is stuck in survival mode.
In those moments, it’s not about what is being offered—it’s about who is offering it. And when trust hasn’t been built, even the best ideas get buried.
Ironically, though, fresh energy and creativity from volunteers are exactly what many organizations need to survive and thrive.
What I Wish More Leaders Understood
If you’re a nonprofit leader—or really, any kind of leader—pause and ask yourself:
- Do I actually want new ideas, or do I just want to be seen as open to them?
- Do I make space for ideas I can’t act on right now?
- Do I invite collaboration—or quietly assume I need to solve everything myself?
And if someone brings you an idea that doesn’t fit at the moment, here are a few ways to respond that still keep the door open:
- Be Curious.
Ask:
“That’s an interesting idea—how have you seen that work before?”
“Do you know someone who could help us set that up?”
- Redirect Thoughtfully.
If it’s not something you can own, point them to someone who might be able to explore it.
Even if there’s no formal structure in place, acknowledgment matters. Volunteers don’t expect you to say yes to everything—they just want to be seen.
- Create Clarity—Not Shutdowns.
Instead of:
“We don’t have the bandwidth.”
Try:
“That’s a great idea for the future. Right now, we’re focused on these three things.”
It keeps the conversation open without overpromising.
- Be Transparent, But Not Hopeless.
Saying:
“We can’t fill a $200K gap with donations.”
Feels like a dead end.
Try:
“It’s a big gap to close—but we’re open to ideas that could help move the needle.”
- If You Say You Want Ideas—Act Like It.
That means:
- Listening, not just hearing.
- Engaging, not just enduring.
People bring their ideas to leaders who make room for them.
Honestly? What I felt from the founder in that conversation wasn’t curiosity. It felt more like:
“What could you possibly teach me about running a nonprofit?”
But I wasn’t trying to teach.
I was just trying to help.
For the Leaders Who Want to Get Better
If you’re reading this and thinking, “Could I be this kind of leader?”—good. The willingness to reflect is what separates growing leaders from stagnant ones.
A few ways to check in with yourself:
🔍 Ask your team.
“Do you feel like your ideas are heard here?”
“Have I ever unintentionally shut you down?”
🪞 Observe your reactions.
Do you feel a reflexive “no” rise up when someone shares something bold? Get curious about that. What’s behind the reaction?
💡 Make contribution easier.
Set up suggestion forms, shared docs, or regular check-ins where ideas are invited—and expected.
Why This Matters
In under four years, I helped raise over $25,000 for a nonprofit in Baltimore—because they gave me trust, access, and encouragement.
I became a top fundraiser for another cause in just a few weeks—because they empowered me to act.
But when ideas are repeatedly dismissed, energy naturally moves elsewhere.
Final Thought
I’m still volunteering. Still supporting the mission.
But I’ve stopped offering ideas—not because I don’t have them,
but because there’s no space for them to live.
If you’re in a leadership role, consider this:
What do I really do when someone brings me an idea?
Because the answer to that question might determine who sticks around—
and who silently walks away.
Looking to deepen the conversation?
Misti Burmeister speaks to leaders and teams about trust, communication, and the human dynamics that shape real performance. Her work helps people notice what’s happening beneath the surface—so better decisions, stronger relationships, and healthier cultures can emerge.
If you’re exploring a speaker for an upcoming event, workshop, or retreat, Misti would love to connect.
Reach out: [email protected]
Here’s To Your Greatness,
Misti Burmeister
Misti Burmeister is a dynamic coach and speaker with an unparalleled ability to unlock potential and inspire transformation. Known for her energy, enthusiasm, and passion, Misti awakens thought patterns and fosters meaningful change in individuals and teams alike. With over 20 years of experience, she is celebrated for improving communication, accountability, and personal responsibility across organizations.
Described as a “world-class archeologist” by Captain Ken Barrett, U.S. Navy, Misti excels at uncovering the hidden treasures within every person she interacts with. Her groundbreaking philosophies on two-way communication and personal responsibility are the foundation for lasting success, empowering organizations to achieve extraordinary results.