One Grant, Placed With Care, Can Change Everything
- Shanon Pettibone
- 7 days ago
- 2 min read

Not every grant has to be big to matter.
Some very meaningful ones don’t come with press releases or huge checks. They don’t fund brand-new buildings or national campaigns. They’re smaller. Quieter
But inside a community? They are everything.
Imagine a small arts nonprofit in a rural town or city neighborhood. They’re working with what they have—some donated supplies, a few volunteers, and a huge dream. They apply for a small grant. A few thousand dollars. Just enough to stock up on paints and pencils, run a handful of free workshops with a local teaching artist.
It’s not so simple. Here’s what happens:
A child who’s never had their own set of markers learns how to shade light into color. A teenager processing grief paints a canvas that speaks louder than words ever could. An elder steps into the room, sees the work in progress, and remembers something they thought they’d lost a long time ago.
Neighbors gather for a pop-up exhibit in the park—sharing food, stories, hugs, and most importantly, hope.
In one small town, a fledgling literacy nonprofit used a $3,000 grant to buy diverse, inclusive books for a pop-up library. At their first story hour, a little girl pointed to a character on the page and said, “She looks like me.” The look on her face said everything. That grant didn’t just buy books. It built belonging.
In another community, a small theater group secured a $4,000 grant to produce a play about addiction recovery, written and performed by people with lived experience. The opening night was standing-room only. After the final bow, a man in the audience stood up and said, “That was my story. And tonight, I finally felt like someone saw it.” That grant made space for truth, for dignity, and for healing.
And then there was the dog.
A rescue organization used a $3,200 grant to launch a campaign for senior and special needs pets—those who are often overlooked. With that funding, they created beautiful stories, covered some basic vetting for seniors, and made space on their website for the ones who usually sit in the shadows. A 10-year-old who had been overlooked in a shelter for over a year was adopted in the first week. That grant didn’t just give that dog a second chance—it gave a family their best friend.
That’s what one grant can do.
It’s not just about money. It’s about momentum. About opening a door and making sure someone’s on the other side to say, “Come in. You belong here.”
Because one grant, placed with care, can change everything.
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