The Hardest Part of being a Fundraiser

My Friend Sue!

People often assume the hardest part of fundraising is asking for money.

It’s not.

Others think it’s hearing the word no.
Or waiting patiently while someone considers a gift.
Or cultivating a relationship for years with no guarantee of support.

Those things have their challenges. They require humility, patience, and persistence.

But they are not the hardest part.

The hardest part of being a fundraiser is when donors become close—like family—and then pass away.

Last week, my friend Sue passed away.

I worked with Sue for nearly 20 years, though her connection to Oklahoma Baptist Homes for Children stretches back much further than that. There is not a campus or ministry within OBHC that does not carry her influence in some way. Her encouragement, generosity, and unwavering passion for caring for children helped shape this ministry more than most people will ever realize.

Sue was steady.
She was genuine.
She was the definition of encouragement and conviction.

Nothing ever altered her passion for making sure children were cared for, supported, and loved.

Sue and her husband, Ken, shared that passion. Together, they have been faithful, generous supporters of OBHC for many years. Their legacy is not a moment—it is a lifetime of faithfulness that still matters deeply to this ministry.

One of the things Sue loved most was hosting the boys from Boys Ranch. She welcomed them into her home, fed them, laughed with them, and made them feel like they belonged.

And she made sloppy joes.

I don’t know how or why — but they were the best sloppy joes I have ever had in my entire life.

Maybe it was the recipe.
Maybe it was the way she cooked them.
Or maybe it was simply the love behind them.

What I do know is that moments like that matter. Meals matter. Presence matters. Faithfulness matters.

Sue never saw herself as “a donor.” She saw herself as part of the work—part of the family that surrounded and supported children who needed stability and care.

That’s what makes loss like this different in fundraising.

When someone like Sue passes away, you don’t just lose financial support for a ministry. You lose encouragement. You lose wisdom. You lose stories. You lose handwritten notes, familiar conversations, and steady prayers.

You lose a friend.

And yet — even in the grief — we rejoice.

Sue is completely healed and in the presence of the Lord. We mourn because we have lost someone incredibly special. I ask that you would join us in praying for Ken and the entire Fellers family as they grieve, remembering the faithfulness they have shown and the legacy that continues.

Scripture reminds us, “Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of His saints” (Psalm 116:15). That truth doesn’t remove the sorrow, but it anchors it in hope.

Sue taught me — without ever trying — that fundraising at its best is not transactional. It is relational. It is sacred work built on trust, love, and shared mission.

I will miss her dearly.

And I am deeply grateful — for Ken, for their family, and for a legacy that continues.