Birthday Wishes for Your Nonprofit

Candles. Cake. And unsolicited fundraising advice you didn’t ask for but are getting anyway because it’s my birthday and I can do what I want.

Sunday is my birthday.

I’m old enough to be traumatized by the original Transformers movie when an animated Optimus Prime died as well as remember the good ol’ days of fundraising when most of my donors didn’t have email addresses.

Yet, I'm absolutely young enough to know at LEAST 13% of all the artists nominated for a Grammy.

But here’s the REAL birthday gift the universe delivered this morning: my kids went back to school today.

TODAY.

The best early birthday present ever.

I woke up.

I made coffee.

I watched three backpacks disappear out the front door.

And then I stood in my kitchen in complete silence for approximately 45 seconds, just…listening to nothing.

No arguing about cereal. No one asking where their shoe is.

No Minecraft negotiations before 7 AM.

Just the hum of the refrigerator and the sound of my own thoughts, which were mostly “is this what heaven sounds like?”

Every year, it’s the greatest birthday present I receive.

So I’m sitting here. House empty. Coffee hot. Dog asleep. And I’m feeling nostalgic...probably because I have a Freshman in high school…and I’m not sure exactly how that happened.

Or I’m in denial of the chaos that comes with all three of my kids in three different schools in three different extra curriculars at three different places all at the same time in about 8 hours.

Anyway, back to birthday stuff.

Since I can’t mail each of you a piece of cake, here’s what I would LOVE to do:

Give my birthday wishes for your nonprofit.

Now, listing damn near 5 decades of wishes and candles would probably just end up being a full book and me passed out on the floor from lack of oxygen, so let’s go with ten.

Ten candles.

Each one blown out with the full force of two decades of nonprofit opinions and a suspicious amount of lung capacity for a man my age.

Let’s DO THIS!

Candle #1: I Wish You Would Stop Apologizing for Asking for Money

Every time you start a donor conversation with “I’m sorry to bother you” or “I know you’re busy” or “I hate to ask, but…” - a small piece of my fundraising soul evaporates.

You are not bothering anyone. You are inviting them to be part of something that matters. The person who funded 30 kids’ after-school meals last year did not feel “bothered.” They felt like a hero. Because they ARE a hero. And you made that possible by asking.

Birthday wish: stop apologizing. Start inviting.

The ask is a gift you’re giving them, not a burden you’re placing on them. Blow out that apologetic candle and let it stay out.

Candle #2: I Wish Your Thank-You Letters Would Arrive Before the Donor Forgets They Gave

You know the rule. 48 hours. I’ve said it approximately 400 times this year. And yet, somewhere right now, a thank-you letter from December is sitting on someone’s desk under a grant report, slowly fossilizing.

Birthday wish: thank one donor today.

Right now. Before you finish this blog.

Call them. Email them. Send a carrier pigeon. I don’t care. Just do it before that candle relights itself out of spite.

Candle #3: I Wish You Would Kill One Fundraising Zombie This Year

You know which one it is. You’ve known for years. The golf tournament that nets $3,000 and costs your development director four months of their life. The printed newsletter that goes to 2,000 people and generates exactly zero measurable gifts. The committee that meets every month to discuss meeting again next month.

Birthday wish: kill one zombie before December 31st.

Just one. Put it out of its misery. Free up that time for the work that actually moves the needle. Do it in my honor. I’ll bring those cheesy hashbrown funeral potatoes to the pot luck.

Candle #4: I Wish You Would Take Your Board Members to Coffee

Not to a board meeting. Not to a retreat. Not to a “working session” that everyone dreads.

Coffee.

One-on-one. No agenda. Just: “Hey, tell me what you care about and what you’re good at that we’re not using.”

Birthday wish: one coffee. One board member. Before the end of September.

You’ll learn something about them that changes how you work together. I guarantee it.

And if you don’t get one of those 89 grams of sugar and still call it coffee drinks, it’s like $4. That’s the cheapest board engagement strategy in existence.

Candle #5: I Wish You Would Let Yourself Be Bad at Something New

You want to try the non-event but you’re scared it’ll flop. You want to rewrite the annual appeal but you’re scared it won’t be good enough. You want to make that major gift ask but you’re scared you’ll stumble over the words.

Good.

Stumble & flop. In fact, be god-awful at it.

The first time I spoke anywhere on stage “professionally,” I talked exponentially faster than I already do, forgot information half my slides, and made a joke that exactly zero people laughed at. Now I do it for a living. The bad version came first. It always does.

Birthday wish: try one new thing this fall that scares you a little.

It doesn’t have to be perfect. It has to exist. Existing badly beats not existing at all. Every time.

Candle #6: I Wish You Would Stop Comparing Your Chapter 3 to Someone Else’s Chapter 22

The org down the street has a full development team, a $2 million budget, and a gala that sells out every year.

Great. Good for them.

They also started 30 years before you and have a donor base you haven’t had time to build yet.

Comparison is the thief of joy AND the thief of strategic thinking. You can’t build someone else’s program. You can only build yours.

Birthday wish: compare yourself to where YOU were 12 months ago.

That’s the only metric that matters. Are you further than you were? Did you grow? Did you learn something?

Then you’re winning. Regardless of what the org down the street is doing.

Candle #7: I Wish You Would Pick Up the Damn Phone

I know. I say this every blog. I will say it until I am physically removed from the internet.

The phone call is the most underused, highest-ROI, most human fundraising tool you have. And it’s sitting in your pocket right now. Not making calls. Just sending you notifications about emails you’re stressed about not answering fast enough.

Birthday wish: make three calls this week that have nothing to do with asking for money.

Just check in. Just say hi. Just be a human. Your donors will be so shocked that an actual person called them that they might need a moment. Give them the moment. Then have the conversation. That’s where the magic is.

Candle #8: I Wish You Would Remember Why You Started

Somewhere under the 10,000 hats and the budget stress and the board drama and the parking lot full of good intentions, there’s a reason you said yes to this work. A moment. A person. A story. A feeling that made you think: “I want to be part of this.”

It’s still there. Under all the noise. And on the hard days (and I know…there are a lot of hard days) that reason is the root that holds you to the ground.

Birthday wish: take 60 seconds today and remember the moment you fell in love with this work.

Not the job. The work. The mission. The why. Let yourself feel it for a minute. Then go back to the inbox. But let it refuel you first.

Candle #9: I Wish You Would Stop Doing This Alone

You have peers out there. People who get it. People who are wearing the same 10,000 hats, fighting the same fights, carrying the same weight. And most of you have never talked to each other.

Join your state association. Find a peer group. Come hang out with me online while I’m doing a little song and dance at a webinar. I don’t care where. I just care that you’re not sitting at your desk alone on a Thursday thinking nobody understands.

Birthday wish: connect with ONE person this month who does what you do.

Not to network. Not to “build your professional circle.” Simply to have a conversation with someone who knows what it feels like.

Two words: “us too.”

That’s all it takes.

Candle #10: I Wish You Would Believe You’re Good at This

Because you are.

You don’t feel like it. I know. The imposter syndrome is loud. The worry highlight reel plays on repeat. The rubric you’re grading yourself on only has room for failures.

But the receipts? The actual, factual, undeniable receipts of your career? They tell a different story.

You raised more money this year than last year. You kept the program running. You survived the board meeting, the grant freeze, the staffing crisis, and whatever 2026 decided to throw at you.

You figured it out.

Again.

Birthday wish - the big one, the one I’m going to need extra lung capacity for: believe the receipts. Not the worry. The receipts.

You’re good at this. And getting better every day.

There.

That’s ten candles. I’m winded. Someone get me more cake.

But before I go celebrate by doing absolutely nothing productive for the first time in months (the house is EMPTY people, I cannot stress this enough!!!!), I want to hear from you.

Your Turn!

Tell me:

If you had one birthday wish for YOUR nonprofit, what would it be? Not a budget wish. Not a staffing wish. A culture wish. A mindset wish. A "what would change everything" wish.

Send me your wish: patrick@dogoodbetterconsulting.com

And if your wish is “I wish I had a community, a blueprint, and someone in my corner” - well, that’s literally what we built. Do Good YOUniversity. My gift to the sector, available year-round, no wrapping paper required. www.DoGoodYOUniversity.com

Together, we’ve freaking got this.

-Patrick

P.S. OH MY GOD, I am about to publish this and Peter Cullen, the ACTUAL voice of Optimus Prime just died. Literally on TMZ right now. The universe is cruel and not awesome at all. Dolly and now Peter? Come on man. Not cool. So, go do something awesome for someone…because our heroes are passing away at a rapid rate this week. UGH.