I love this time of year. The sun feels warmer, the flowers are blooming, and the days are getting longer. Generally, this time of year just makes me feel happier—like I’ve turned a corner.

But for many in the nonprofit world, it doesn’t feel like spring yet.

In recent conversations with nonprofit leaders, there’s been a noticeable shift. They don’t sound lighter. They don’t sound hopeful. They sound worried and on edge—like they’re still carrying the weight of too many winters, unsure when—or if—the season will fully turn.

If I’m being honest, I’m hearing some brutal facts: deep fatigue, constant uncertainty, and policy shifts that feel like daily assaults on basic human rights—food, shelter, safety. The core values that nonprofits fight for—justice, equity, dignity—are being tossed aside like yesterday’s trash.

On top of that, funding feels unstable and often disappears overnight. Staff are burned out. Leaders are transitioning. Boards are overwhelmed. And the communities we serve? They’re still in the thick of it—still healing, still struggling to make it from one day to the next.

And yet—I remain hopeful and optimistic.

I’m not cautiously optimistic. I’m optimistic.

My optimism is rooted in history, tested by fire, and grounded in deep certainty. I know what we’re made of… I know what this sector is made of.

This sector has always been shaped in hard times. Nonprofits weren’t born in comfort. They were born in response to trauma, like actual birth is preceded by pain, disruption, and transformation.

Back in the late 1500s, England was in crisis. The social fabric was unraveling. Monasteries that once cared for the poor had been dissolved. The enclosure movement was pushing rural people off their land and into cities that couldn’t keep up with the rising poverty. Hunger, homelessness, and unemployment were everywhere. And instead of help, the poor were often criminalized.

Sound familiar?

In the middle of that chaos, people began organizing charitable acts more intentionally. Out of that need, the Elizabethan Statute of Charitable Uses was passed in 1601. It wasn’t just a law—it was a declaration: that people would respond to crisis with care, with structure, and with shared responsibility. That moment laid the foundation for what we now know as the nonprofit sector.

And in our own time, COVID did something similar.

It cracked everything open. It forced nonprofits to adapt overnight—to become more agile, more honest, more human. We digitized services, rebuilt programs from scratch, re-centered our communities, and somehow kept showing up through fear, grief, and unknowns. That season, which began almost exactly five years ago this spring, was incredibly difficult—but beyond the challenges, something deeper emerged. It revealed who we are. What we’re made of.

So yes, this moment is hard. But I remain hopeful. 

I remain proud—deeply proud—to work in a sector full of quiet heroes. People who resolve every single day to keep showing up, to keep doing the work, to keep believing that something better is possible for the people they serve.

That DNA is still in us. We were built for seasons like this—not because they’re easy, but because the work matters. And it always has. And it always will.

So no, it may not feel like spring just yet. But we keep showing up. To every nonprofit leader, staff member, board member, donor, and volunteer: thank you. Thank you for showing up, even when it’s hard. Thank you for tending the ground. And when the full bloom finally comes—because it will—we’ll be ready. Not just to witness it, but to rise with it, on behalf of those we serve.

Stephen Smith is a Senior Advisor with Armstrong McGuire who specializes in interim management, executive leadership, board management, strategic planning, fundraising, and coaching. Learn more about Stephen in his bio.