Understanding the FY 2026 President’s Budget Request—and Why Your Grant May Still Be Safe
When the White House finally released its FY 2026 President’s Budget Request (PBUD) on May 30, 2025, hundreds of grant programs appeared at “$0.” Understandably, communities, nonprofits, and local governments panicked:
Does a zeroed‑out request mean our vital funding disappears next year?
Short answer: No. The President’s request is the opening bid in a long, highly negotiable appropriations process—not the final word. Below, we unpack what the PBUD really is, why Congress routinely reverses proposed cuts, and how you can position your projects for success.¹
1. What Exactly Is the President’s Budget Request?
Myth |
Reality |
A PBUD line item is binding. |
It’s a recommendation. Congress—the branch that controls federal spending—can (and often does) ignore, reduce, or expand any figure. |
A “$0” request eliminates the program. |
It’s a negotiating tactic. Con ... |
For most of my life, humility meant making yourself small, putting everyone else’s needs before your own, never needing credit, never asking for help, and certainly never drawing attention to yourself.
It was what I saw growing up. It was what I practiced. And it was what I thought God expected of me.
But somewhere along the way, that definition started to unravel, especially when helping others didn’t feel holy anymore. It felt heavy. Lonely. Confusing. Especially when my efforts were ignored, misunderstood, or flat-out dismissed. It happened in my marriage, in work, in ministry, and each time, I’d walk away telling myself the same story:
“It wasn’t enough. I wasn’t enough.”
And still, I’d call that humility.
But one day, I heard a quote by C.S. Lewis that stopped me cold. He said:
“Humility is not thinking less of yourself. It is thinking of yourself less.”Â
I had to read it again. Slowly.
“Not thinking less of yourself…”
Wait—so humility isn’t putting yourself down or denyin...
There’s a moment in every growth journey when something shifts, not because your circumstances change, but because you change. For me, that moment came at a Maxwell Leadership Team conference, sitting in a room full of people who had dedicated their lives to personal growth and leadership.
John Maxwell had just released The Best Story Ever Told, and during one of his talks, he asked the audience a simple, but piercing question:
“Who’s the author of your story?
Is it you?
Or are you on the sidelines, letting someone else write it for you?”
I can’t explain why those words hit me the way they did, but I’ll never forget the jolt I felt in my spirit. It was as if time paused and God leaned in to ask me directly:
“Stephanie, whose story are you living?”
And in that moment, the truth came rushing in:
I wasn’t the author of my story.
In fact, I wasn’t even holding the pen.
IÂ didn't realize I had a story or believe my story mattered.
That moment exposed something I hadn’t wanted to admit....
If you’ve been following this journey with me, you’ve seen how God has slowly peeled back layers in my life; layers of false humility, misplaced identity, and the need to be seen through the eyes of others.
But I want to pause here and say something important:
I’m still in the process.Â
I haven’t arrived. I haven’t figured it all out. I’m still learning who I am, who God is, and where I’m going. But now, I’m learning on purpose. I’m being intentional.
And one thing I know for sure?
Learning requires doing.
It requires taking chances, trying new things, and risking failure. And for me, that has always been hard.
Why? Because trying something new means I might not get it right the first time. I might mess up. I might disappoint someone. And that thought alone used to be enough to shut me down.
I’ve realized that the fear of letting people down has held me back more than I care to admit. I didn’t want to upset anyone. I didn’t want anyone to be disappointed in me. When someone was u...
There are moments in life when you know you are doing exactly what God called you to do… and it still hurts.
There was a season of my life when God called me to leave my home and family to serve on mission, managing a program that would help children who were living in a crisis. It was a call that required sacrifice, and I knew that going in.
When I made the decision to step into that season, God made something clear to me:
There would be suffering.Â
He didn’t tell me how.
He didn’t show me what kind.
He simply whispered it into my spirit:
“This path will include suffering.”Â
And I said yes.
Not because I wanted the pain, but because I trusted the One who called me. I knew He would be with me, and I knew the work mattered. So, I left the comfort of home. I left my husband and my children, and I went to work, doing what I believed God had assigned to me.
It was the hardest thing I’d ever done.
There were sacrifices I didn’t even know how to articulate. Missed birthdays. Long ni...
This journey I’ve been sharing with you, it hasn’t been linear. It’s been full of unexpected turns, soul-level revelations, and some incredibly hard truths I had to face about myself.
One of the biggest breakthroughs came when I reached a breaking point.
I had spent so long carrying the weight of being the helper, the supporter, the steady one, that I didn’t realize how much I had been neglecting myself. I was emotionally exhausted, spiritually dry, and relationally disconnected in some of the relationships that mattered most to me. I didn’t know how to fix it. I didn’t even know what needed fixing.
All I knew was I needed help.
So, I did something I’d never done before. I started seeing a therapist.
And let me tell you, it has been one of the most healing, eye-opening decisions I’ve ever made. It gave me a space where the only agenda was me. Where someone listened without judgment. Where I could finally be honest, not just about what was happening around me, but what was happenin...
We’ve come a long way in this journey.
From growing up in a house full of helpers…
To realizing the difference between humility and invisibility…
To discovering how pain, identity, and emotional growth all intersect with our faith…
And while the journey continues, there’s one truth that ties everything together:
The lens we choose to look through shapes the life we live.Â
For so long, I looked at myself through the lens of performance. Through the eyes of others. Through a tangled web of expectations, responsibilities, and silent questions like:
“Am I doing enough?”
“Am I helping the right way?”
“Does anyone even see me?”
But every single one of those questions was rooted in comparison or conditioning—not in truth.
And if we’re honest, most of us are walking around holding the wrong lens.
Some of us are looking through the lens of social media, measuring our worth by likes, comments, or curated images of other people’s lives.
Some of us are looking through the lens of past pain...
If you’ve always been a helper, then you know how good it can feel to make someone’s day a little easier, to meet a need, fill a gap, or carry someone else’s burden. That feeling of “I did something good today” has carried me through a lot of hard seasons.
But what happens when helping... doesn’t help?
That’s a question I never expected to ask. Because helping was who I was. I was raised to serve. I became a nurse. I was the one people leaned on. I always tried to do what I thought would bless the people I loved.
So when I found myself helping, and hurting, I didn’t know what to do with that.
I remember one conversation with my husband, who I love with all my heart, that broke me open in a way I didn’t see coming. We had just started our own business, and I was still working full-time as a nurse, carrying a lot of the financial load while he focused on growing the business. It was hard, but I believed in the dream and wanted to be supportive. So in my “helper” mindset, I did what I...
I grew up in a house full of helpers.
My dad was a pastor, and my mom had the gift of seeing needs before others even knew how to express them. Their lives were a living sermon on love, sacrifice, and humility. They didn’t just teach us to put others first, they lived it. It was the air we breathed.
I have two older sisters and a younger brother. And it probably won’t surprise you to hear that three of us became nurses and the other one became a teacher. Helping others wasn’t a rule in our home, it was the rhythm of our lives. We learned that true success wasn’t in being seen but in seeing others. Not in receiving, but in giving.
I remember one day when our house was robbed and a few of my dad’s tools were stolen. I asked him, “Are we going to call the police?” I don’t remember if we actually did, but I’ll never forget his response. He said, “If someone is going to go through the trouble of breaking into our house, they must need it more than me.”
That was my dad. That was our home...
Securing federal grants has always been a competitive process, but recent policy changes have introduced new challenges and opportunities for applicants. With the elimination of Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion (DEI) funding requirements, organizations must adapt their grant-writing strategies to align with the latest federal priorities. In this article, we break down the key changes and provide actionable best practices to improve your grant applications in 2025 and beyond.
In January 2025, new executive orders were issued that eliminated DEI-related initiatives from federal funding considerations. This means that organizations must now focus on merit-based justifications, cost-effectiveness, and broad-based economic benefits when crafting their proposals.
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