Ode to a Fundraiser

The Institute of Fundraising has launched their #ProudFundraiser campaign ahead of their National Convention. They’re encouraging people to tweet, using the hashtag, why they’re proud to be fundraisers. Seems very simple and why wouldn’t you be proud to be a fundraiser? After all, we help people right? We raise money for good causes. We provide emergency help and support. We fund research into curing diseases. We help terminally ill people fulfil a last wish. We offer support to the bereaved. But hang on… not everyone thinks we do great work. Following some charity scandals, donations are falling.

#FRTweets is a weekly chat on Twitter for fundraisers and charity people, run by Lucy Caldicott and Lesley Pinder. The last topic was on controversy surrounding charities and also whether fundraisers are proud to be fundraisers in this current climate. You can read the Storify here.

Ian MacQuillin summed it up best, for me, when he tweeted:

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Today, two things central to this theme caught my eye. One (via Matt Collins) that, sadly, has shone a bad light on charities. I’ve deliberately not shown the charity’s name because this is not about naming and shaming but I think it’s safe to say that this tweet from a charity account is simply unacceptable. With such an uncharitable tweet from a charity, surely this is a further blow to how people will view the sector?

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This incident made me think of this wonderful poem by Kid President. It’s called ‘A Tiny Poem to the World’ but I think it could easily be called ‘Ode to a Fundraiser’. It sums up perfectly, for me, the way the sector is viewed and how we all need to ‘keep going, keep going, keep going’. We need to remind each other that there are good days and bad days but as long as we are doing our very best for those who need us and our charity, we are making a change and we should be proud.

 

 

‘Leisure’ – a poem by W.H.Davies

Following on from my previous post on being mindful in a Digital Age, a friend of mine just sent this to me and I thought, “How very apt.”

What is this life if, full of care,

We have no time to stand and stare.

No time to stand beneath the boughs

And stare as long as sheep or cows.

No time to see, when woods we pass,

Where squirrels hide their nuts in grass.

No time to see, in broad daylight,

Streams full of stars, like skies at night.

No time to turn at Beauty’s glance,

And watch her feet, how they can dance.

No time to wait till her mouth can

Enrich that smile her eyes began.

A poor life this if, full of care,

We have no time to stand and stare.