As Creative Community Solutions moves into its fifth year, I’ve spent a lot of time reflecting on what we’ve actually been funding across North Dakota.
Not just the projects themselves. Not just the grant totals. Not just the reports or outcomes. But what sits underneath all of it.
When I look back across the portfolio, I see housing projects, cultural projects, grocery stores, childcare models, wellness centers, leadership programs, trauma recovery work, meal delivery systems, community financing tools, and youth programs. On the surface, they can feel unrelated. Almost random.
But I don’t think they are.
The more I sit with it, the more I believe we’ve really been investing in two things:
People’s ability to improve their lives. And communities’ ability to believe they still have a future. That sounds simple, but I think it matters.
A lot of the conversations happening nationally around economic mobility focus almost entirely on income. And income matters. Jobs matter. Housing matters. Access to capital matters.
But after five years of listening to communities, reviewing proposals, visiting projects, and watching ideas grow, I’ve become convinced that mobility is also tied to whether people feel like they have any control over where their lives are headed. You can see that all over this portfolio.
In Sheyenne, the investment wasn’t really just about housing rehabilitation or business development. It was about giving a small town the ability to make decisions for itself again. Local people deciding what mattered. Local people taking ownership. Local people building momentum with their own hands.
That changes the way a community sees itself. You could feel it.
The same thing is true in a very different way with Nyeri Ma’di Cultural Dance Group. At first glance, teaching financial literacy through storytelling and cultural dance might not look like a traditional economic development project. But it absolutely is.
Because people navigate systems differently when they feel confident in who they are. When culture is preserved instead of erased. When identity becomes a strength instead of something hidden away.
That project wasn’t just teaching financial literacy. It was building confidence, belonging, and connection.
Honestly, a lot of our strongest projects sit right in that space. They are practical, yes. But they are also deeply human.
Over and over, our grantees are working on things like:
- dignity
- confidence
- leadership
- connection
- visibility
- local ownership
- trust
- hope
Not because those are trendy words. Because those things determine whether people stay engaged in their communities at all.
I also think we’ve been investing heavily in health and wellness, though maybe not in the way people traditionally define it.
Some projects are clearly health related. Community paramedicine. Survivor-centered care. Mental health supports. Senior meal delivery. Indigenous wellness models.
But others are health projects too, even if they don’t immediately get labeled that way.
Reducing isolation is health work.
Creating belonging is health work.
Restoring food access is health work.
Helping communities feel hopeful again is health work.
I don’t think we talk enough about how emotionally exhausted many communities are right now. Especially small communities. Many have spent years hearing what they lack. What they’ve lost. What isn’t coming back.
And yet, what I’ve seen through Creative Community Solutions is that communities come alive very quickly when people are trusted.
Not managed.
Not over-engineered.
Trusted.
North Dakotans are incredibly capable people. Rural communities are incredibly capable places. What they often lack is flexible capital and room to experiment without being punished if something needs to evolve along the way.
That has probably been one of the most important lessons for me personally.
Some of the best projects in this portfolio did not begin perfectly polished. They began with local people who understood a problem deeply and were willing to try something different.
And because of that, we now have communities learning from one another.
Ideas are spreading.
Childcare models are spreading.
Community financing conversations are spreading.
Cultural inclusion work is spreading.
Food access models are spreading.
People are calling each other. Visiting projects. Asking questions. Adapting ideas to fit their own communities.
That’s exciting because it means this work is becoming bigger than individual grants.
I think one of the biggest misconceptions about rural places is that innovation only happens in major cities or large institutions. But honestly, some of the most creative problem solving I’ve seen has happened in towns of a few hundred people, in nonprofit offices with tiny staffs, in Tribal communities, in schools, churches, cafés, and community centers. Usually led by people who care deeply about where they live.
That’s what I see when I look back across the last five years. Not just projects. People trying to build communities where others can still imagine a future.
And I think that matters more than ever.
