Grant Writing Was Never Really About Grants

Most organizations just start as clients. Then, somewhere along the way, they become so

much more. The Garden of Healing has always been one of those organizations for me.

Long before I ever wrote my first grant for the Garden of Healing, Cameron Bolton was someone I knew. We went to high school together, and we even went to senior prom together. Sadly, in 2018, he was in a devastating car accident, and in the middle of every parent's worst nightmare, his parents, Sarah & Arlin Fisher, made the incredibly selfless decision to donate Cameron's organs and tissues. That one decision ended up saving and improving the lives of more than 120 people.

Most families would understand if grief became the end of their story. Instead, the Fishers chose to make sure Cameron's story didn't end there.

Not long after, they went on to create Crosses for Cameron to educate people about organ donation, challenge the misconceptions that still exist, and encourage families to have conversations that most of us avoid until it's too late. Over the years, they've spoken to hundreds of thousands of people throughout the Fargo-Moorhead area and across the country, helping people understand that one decision really can change hundreds of lives.

Those experiences ultimately inspired an even bigger vision: the Garden of Healing Park, a place where anyone experiencing grief can come to reflect, remember, and hopefully leave feeling just a little less alone.

For the past several years, I've had the privilege of helping move that vision forward through grant funding. Together, we've secured thousands of dollars to strengthen Crosses for Cameron and continue bringing the Garden of Healing to life, one project at a time. For example, last year, we celebrated a $16,000 grant from the Fargo-Moorhead Convention & Visitors Bureau to add the Healing Hotline. This year, we were thrilled to receive a $15,000 AARP Community Challenge grant to install 12 ADA-accessible raised garden beds.

Watching each project come together from hundreds of miles away has been incredibly rewarding, but I'd never actually experienced the Garden for myself.

That finally changed this past May.

Walking through the Garden was one of those moments that's incredibly difficult to put into words. (In fact, that's probably why it's taken me three months to write this blog.) I had spent years writing about the memorial bricks, the walking paths, the partnerships, and the programs. I knew the budgets, the timelines, and the vision for where the Garden was headed, but standing there was completely different.

The part of the Garden that touched me most was the Healing Hotline. Nestled inside a monolithic stone structure sits an old pay phone, inviting visitors to pick up the receiver and speak to the loved ones they've lost. Next to it, a small dispenser holds tokens promoting the 988 Suicide & Crisis Lifeline, provided by Enough With The Stigma.

That name immediately caught my attention.

Enough With The Stigma is an organization I've also had the privilege of working with through JAC. It was founded by Ron & Karla Forde after they lost their son, Connor, to suicide in 2022. Connor was also another one of my high school classmates.

Standing there, I couldn't help but think about how two families who experienced unimaginable loss had each found their own way to help others heal. One created a place to remember those we've lost. The other reminds us that hope and help are always within reach for those who are still here.

As I reflected on their stories, I found myself thinking about my own.

Just a few weeks earlier, my dad passed away after a brutal six-month battle with cancer. He had spent his entire life as an arborist, and if there's one thing I know about him, it's that he would've absolutely loved the Garden of Healing. He believed there was something special about trees and understood better than most that the things we care for today often outlive us.

As I thought about how our family could honor his life, I couldn't imagine a more meaningful tribute than planting a tree in a place dedicated to healing and remembrance. So, before our trip to Fargo for the first time in seven years, I called Sarah & Arlin to ask if my family could visit the Garden while we were in town. I also asked if we could purchase a memorial brick and help fund the planting of a new tree in my dad’s memory.

That's when they shared another piece of incredible news. Someone who had been deeply moved by Cameron's story had made a transformational commitment of more than $1 million to complete Phase Two of the Garden, a milestone they had been working toward for years. The expansion project, which broke ground on June 25, 2026, will transform the garden from 2,400 to 30,000 square feet, including dozens of new trees, walking paths, and additional spaces for reflection and healing.

When Phase Two is complete, it will also be home to my dad’s memorial brick and a new tree dedicated in his memory.

For years, I have written grants to help create a place where other families could remember the people they loved. As I stood in the Garden myself, I saw the families who will one day sit on those benches after losing someone they love. Children learning about organ donation because of Cameron's story. People picking up a 988 token instead of suffering in silence. My dad's future tree.

I also couldn't help but wish my dad could have seen it for himself. He spent his life caring for trees, and now one will stand in a place dedicated to healing, remembrance, and hope. I truly can't imagine a more fitting way to honor him.

People often ask me why I started Jorden Anderson Consulting… This is why.

I started this business because I wanted nonprofits doing extraordinary work to have someone in their corner. I wanted the organizations that are changing lives in their communities to have access to high-quality grant writing, even if they couldn't afford to hire someone in-house. I wanted to help remove one more barrier standing between a great idea and the funding needed to make it happen.

Yet, the Garden of Healing reminds me that grant writing has never really been about grants. It’s about people, about believing in someone's vision enough to help them bring it to life, and about helping organizations create something that will outlive every single one of us.

Sarah & Arlin could have allowed grief to define the rest of their lives. Instead, they created a place that helps thousands of others navigate theirs. That's an incredible legacy for Cameron, and one that will continue growing for generations to come.

I feel incredibly lucky that, in some small way, I get to be part of that story.

Sometimes grants fund programs. Sometimes they build legacies. Every once in a while, if you're really lucky, they help build a place that reminds all of us that love is always stronger than loss.