Lately, I’ve been thinking about how fragile things feel. How families are holding their breath as headlines talk about shutdowns, cuts, delays, and dwindling support. How caregivers wake up every day and do the work anyway — even when systems make it harder than it should ever be. And yet, beneath the noise and uncertainty, I’ve been watching something else gather strength.
Something homegrown.
Something steady.
Something powerful enough to defy despair.
I’ve been watching our community rise up.
Not in grand gestures or polished campaigns, but in the slow, steady ways people decide not to let each other fall through the cracks. Grassroots organizing rarely announces itself. Most days, it looks like love in motion.
It can be seen in many ways:
- A mother clearing her dining table so other parents have a place to breathe.
- A small pantry stretching its shelves because hunger refuses to wait.
- A neighbor slipping a grocery card into the hands of a family who’s struggling.
- A church packing cars with Thanksgiving meals for people they may never meet.
- Caregivers swapping knowledge, language, courage, and hope like lifelines.
This year, community has been louder than fear. More stubborn than scarcity. More faithful than any funding cycle.All across Indiana, families are being held by the unseen labor of people who care.
Examples of Community Engagement:
- The Arc of Indiana creating an Emergency Food Assistance Fund for local chapters of The Arc to provide critical food assistance to their clients and staff facing urgent need.
- Ausome Indy offering sensory-safe events, holiday support, and emergency groceries for families who carry so much.
- Tangram providing coaching, connection, and steady support for individuals and caregivers navigating complex systems.
- Good Samaritan Network preparing meals, clothing, and practical support for neighbors in crisis.
- Project Will creating spaces of belonging, life skills, and community for young adults with disabilities.
- Unto Him Ministries delivering 500 full Thanksgiving dinners to Hoosier households — meals packed with dignity, prayer, and love.
None of these stories trend online. But they each transform lives quietly, faithfully, year after year.
Empowered to Lead: A Living Example of Grassroots Power
One of the clearest examples this year has been our Empowered to Lead: Leadership & Advocacy Series, made possible through a grant partnership between Tangram and Ausome Indy. For four months, twenty women gathered — women carrying grief, brilliance, exhaustion, fierce hope, deep wisdom, and a thousand quiet victories. And together, they built something sacred.
There was a moment — small, simple, but unforgettable — when one mother shared a story she had never spoken aloud. Her voice trembled. The room went still. And before she could even wipe her tears, three women passed her tissues at the same time, a silent chorus saying: You don’t have to carry this alone.
Moments like that changed us. They reminded us that leadership isn’t always loud. Sometimes it’s a whisper… a nod… a hand extended at the exact right moment. These women created tools, resources, programs, and initiatives. But they also created belonging.
They created courage. They created a community that breathes together. —And somewhere in that circle, someone finally said what many were feeling: “I didn’t know I needed this space and to be surrounded by like-mindedness.” The whole room nodded — not because the words were profound, but because they were true.
Weight, Warmth, and Wonder
As we approach the holidays — with tables stretching, budgets tightening, and emotions rising — I keep returning to this truth: Systems may shake, but community holds.
When formal support is delayed, community becomes immediate. When families feel unseen, community becomes light. When hope feels thin, community becomes the thread that ties us back together.
Grassroots care reminds me that hope doesn’t trickle down from institutions. Hope rises up from ordinary people choosing compassion over convenience, day after day. —And maybe that’s the deeper meaning of Thanksgiving: that gratitude and generosity are meant to live side by side.
That we are responsible for one another.
That the table is always strongest when more people are invited to it.
In a world so full of noise, grassroots hope whispers truth.
Maybe hope is not loud — maybe it is steady.
Where do you see hope rising around you? —
And part of that rising might be calling your name?
Hope is not a feeling.
Hope is a participation.
Hope is a choice we make — together.
And right now, if you look closely… hope is everywhere.
________________________________________________________________________________________Marya Patrice Sherron is a dedicated advocate, a proud mother of two incredible children with disabilities, and a valued member of The Arc of Indiana’s Board of Directors.
Visit: A Time for Hope Blog
Visit Marya’s Website: Time to Dance