Brad Layland, Chief Executive Officer & Senior Consultant
When I was a teenager, my dad and I embarked on what was supposed to be an epic adventure—a three-day canoe trip down the Suwannee River in Florida. You know, the one immortalized in Stephen Foster’s song, where “the old folks play?” It was supposed to be a leisurely, scenic paddle, a time to enjoy each other’s company and let the river carry us downstream. But, like many great adventures, it turned out to be a lot harder than we expected.
For starters, we packed our own food, including a loaf of Everfresh bread. It turns out that “Everfresh” was more of a suggestion than a promise because, by day two, it was covered in mold. We also planned to camp along the riverbanks, imagining ourselves falling asleep under the stars. Instead, the very first night brought a torrential downpour, soaking everything we had. And then there was the river itself—typically, the current would do most of the work, gently guiding us downstream. But on this trip, the water was so low that we had to paddle non-stop just to make progress.
And did I mention this was the 1980s? No GPS, no cell phones. Just a map and some bridge and road crossings to keep us oriented. What was supposed to be an exciting adventure turned into a tough, exhausting journey.
Capital campaigns can feel a lot like that canoe trip. When you first start, you imagine that if you just cast the vision clearly, the money will flow in like a strong current carrying you downstream. But then reality hits. The challenges you never anticipated start piling up. Promising donor meetings fall through. The economy shifts. A key volunteer moves away, or the project costs drastically change. What seemed like a straightforward journey becomes a grind.
I experienced this first-hand when I was the chief development officer at Young Life, leading a major fundraising effort to support multiple capital projects for our organization—including a new gym at Frontier Ranch, Young Life’s historic camp in Colorado.
We had a goal. We built a case for support. We rallied donors. And we hit our fundraising goal!
And then we got a call.
The contractor told us that due to rising costs, they actually needed more money. So, we went back to work, raised the additional funds, and hit our goal a second time.
And then we got another call.
New construction issues had come up. The costs had gone up again. So, we returned to our donors, made the case again, and—miraculously—hit our goal for the third time.
And then came the call.
While digging the foundation for the gym, they discovered something no one expected—an actual underground river flowing directly beneath the site. Not just some excess water or poor drainage. An actual, flowing river. And it had to be diverted before construction could continue.
At that point, I remember thinking, This is never going to end. We’re just going to keep paddling forever.
That gym did eventually get built, but not without navigating challenge after challenge, obstacle after obstacle. And that’s exactly how capital campaigns work. You set out thinking the current will carry you smoothly to your goal, only to find yourself paddling against unexpected setbacks.
When my dad and I set out on the Suwannee River, we thought the journey would be effortless, and the river would do the work. But instead, we found ourselves soaked, exhausted, and paddling harder than we ever expected. Just like with fundraising, there were moments when I wanted to quit—when the obstacles felt too big, and the finish line seemed too far away.
But we kept going.
We kept paddling through the low water. We found a way to dry out after the rain. And even though the Everfresh bread didn’t make it, we made it. We reached our final stop, pulled the canoe onto shore, and looked back at the journey—muddy, tired, and full of stories to tell.
And that’s exactly what happens in fundraising. When you finally reach your goal, after all the obstacles, setbacks, and unexpected rivers running under your plans, you’ll look back and realize that every struggle was part of the story. Every hard paddle stroke mattered.
So, if you’re in the middle of a campaign that feels like an endless upstream battle, just remember: keep paddling. The water will rise again. And you will make it to shore.
And next time? Maybe bring an extra loaf of bread.
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