Giving, Gathering, Growing: The Shared Spirit of Maribel Cruz and Lake Chelan Community Center

No matter how many times we talk or meet together, the first thing I notice about Maribel Cruz is her warmth. The second is her steadiness — a grounded calm shaped by generations of hard work, loyalty, and family-first responsibility. She laughs easily, reflects fully, and carries a deep sense that people matter. Community matters. Home matters.

Today, she pours all of that into her work as Executive Director of the Lake Chelan Community Center, guiding a 44,000-square-foot building through the beautiful chaos of real life: toddlers, teens, seniors, knitters, coaches, coffee drinkers, newcomers, longtime locals, and everyone in between.

But to understand how she leads, you have to know where she came from — and why the idea of community isn’t abstract to her. It’s personal. It’s lived. It’s earned.

Roots: Family, faith, and the power of showing up. 

Maribel’s story begins in El Paso, Texas — the first U.S.-born daughter of parents who immigrated from Mexico and carried with them a fierce belief in the American dream. Her family was large - huge really - multigenerational, loud, joyful, and full of love.

Even when they were poor, she doesn’t remember feeling poor, because life was rich in all the ways that mattered.

There was always food on the table.

Always someone coming through the door.

Always cousins to play with.

Always a sense that you didn’t go through life alone.

Her father worked for Boeing for over 30 years, never missing a single day. Not one. From him, she inherited a sense of responsibility, loyalty, and purpose. From her mother — the eldest of ten — she inherited a heart for hospitality, community, and care.

Those values crystallized into a way of being: Show up. Work hard. Take care of people. Create space for others. It’s the foundation she still stands on.

The unexpected door.

Maribel never imagined she’d lead a community center. She was building a long, stable career in transportation for the City of Seattle. Twenty-one years. Loyal. Steady. Consistent.

But one conversation changed everything.

Raye Evans reached out. The Center needed deeper engagement with the community — especially the Hispanic community. They needed trust, communication, and authentic connection. Maribel stepped in quietly, consulting from afar — advising, shaping outreach, supporting all the things that make people feel seen.

But something didn’t sit right.

How do you talk about community if you aren’t part of the community?

The more she traveled back and forth, the more she realized: distance couldn’t hold the mission. It required presence.

Then came the question: Would she consider moving to Chelan and taking on an even larger role?

She said no.

Then maybe.

Then absolutely not, not now, not during COVID.

Then… she prayed.

She asked God for five signs — practical, not poetic. Housing. Stability. Direction. Protection for her kids. Something concrete to step onto.

One by one, each sign appeared.

“Be careful what you ask for,” she says now with a laugh. Because when the pieces fell into place, they fell fast.

In May of 2022, she and her husband, Chris, sat down with their two children and had the conversation. Both of them said yes — bravely — without knowing exactly what the future held. It wasn’t long before the truck was loaded and the family was driving east toward a new beginning.

They’ve never looked back.

A building full of life.

Maribel describes The Community Center as the most rewarding job she has ever had, and also the most demanding.

Before opening, she spent months working alone in the 44,000-sq-ft building. The silence was heavy despite the construction often going on around her. The responsibility is even heavier. Financial pressure, construction challenges, fundraising hurdles — it was all real and relentless.

But then the doors opened and things began to change.

Now she walks through the lobby and hears the music of daily life.

Kids are racing to the Boys & Girls Club before school.

Women gathered around the knitting circle.

Men gathered around a table, sharing lively early-morning conversation over coffee.

Parents grabbing lattes and snacks from The Vine while watching their littles, laughing in the indoor play ground.

Teens sprawled across couches doing homework.

People greeting each other by name — sometimes for the first time.

“When I hear that sound,” she says, “the stress just disappears. I remember exactly why we do this.”

Her leadership requires constant courage. She’s often asked why The Center doesn’t simply rent out space at premium rates or focus on revenue-heavy events. The answer is simple. That isn’t the mission.

The Center was built to be accessible, welcoming, and for everyone — regardless of income, background, or how long they’ve lived in the valley.

That commitment is the beating heart of the place.

A moment of possibility.

Now, after years of challenges, setbacks, pandemic detours, and the grit of focused volunteers and donors, The Community Center stands at a moment of real momentum. Not perfect. Not easy. But stronger.

The early heavy lifting is behind us now. The building is open, the programs are taking root, and the community is showing up in ways that feel both new and deeply familiar. People are beginning to recognize themselves in the story taking shape inside these walls — families feeling welcome, newcomers and longtime residents finding themselves side by side, kids discovering safety, seniors finding connection, and parents finding support. 

The valley is rediscovering what it feels like to share common ground not through screens, but face-to-face. And in these small, ordinary, everyday moments, you can feel it: this is the kind of work that lasts for generations.

The matching fund: a chance to build the future.

And now, The Center stands in an extraordinary moment — one that Maribel feels deeply.

A $2 million matching fund is in place to help. A transformational gift that doubles every dollar given before year-end.

For Maribel, this moment isn’t a fundraising pitch; it feels more like a community invitation. 

She remembers the long stretch of uncertainty, the months she spent alone in the building, the nights she lay awake wondering if the project would survive, and the faith it took for so many to keep moving forward when nothing was guaranteed. 

“This story is still being written,” she says. “We’re finally in the season where we can breathe — and build — at the same time.” That’s why year-end giving isn’t simply about helping finish construction; it’s about finishing what we started and strengthening the mission that carried them through the hardest moments.

It’s about protecting the mission.

Protecting access.

Protecting the heartbeat of the valley.

A gift today doesn’t just help complete walls, or floors, or windows.

It strengthens a place where people find a sense of belonging.

And because of the matching fund, it happens twice as powerfully.

A community gathered around a common table.

If you ask Maribel what motivates her most, she’ll tell you without hesitation: “It’s the people. It’s hearing life in this building. It’s knowing this place matters because people need a place to belong.”

That’s what this year-end moment is about. Belonging. Connection. Community.

The shared belief that our community becomes stronger when it invests in the people who call it home.

Maribel didn’t expect to end up here. She didn’t expect to lead this. She didn’t expect her family to uproot their lives and find a sense of purpose in a small high-desert town.

But they did.

And in many ways, her story mirrors the story of The Community Center itself: Brave. Faithful. Unexpected.

And built on the belief that good things happen when people come together with heart and humility.To learn more or make a tax-deductible contribution, visit chelancommunity.org or contact Executive Director Maribel Cruz at maribel@chelancommunity.org.