Standing on the shoreline in the Solomon Islands, Maurice and I listened as our colleague Rosely pointed towards a lone tree growing from the sand.

“When I was a child,” she told us,“this tree was surrounded by forest.”

Today, it stands exposed to the sun and sea. What was once a thriving coastal ecosystem has gradually disappeared, a reminder of how quickly landscapes can change and how deeply communities feel those changes.

As we travelled between communities, however, we realised that loss was only part of the story. We also met people working hard to restore what had been lost and, in doing so, shape what comes next.

The people closest to the land are often closest to the solution.

We met Teacher Daniela, who guided us through her community’s muddy pathways with unmistakable pride. At one point, she warned me not to touch a patch of grass because its razor-sharp edges could cut skin. Curious, I reached out anyway and immediately cut my hand. It was a small but memorable reminder that local communities understand these landscapes far better than any visitor ever could.

Seven years ago, Daniela’s community of Maeana lost two hectares of mangrove forest to logging. Along with the trees went the habitat that supported mud crabs, an important source of food and income for many families.

But, with support from World Vision, community members came together to restore what had been lost. Today, they proudly show visitors a new mangrove forest they are planting. In just over a year, nearly 300 community members have planted more than 3,000 mangrove seedlings.

The number of seedlings was impressive. What stayed with us, however, was the sense of ownership. Community members spoke about the mangroves as something they were building themselves, not as a project being delivered to them.

That distinction matters for policymakers and donors.

Healthy mangroves support fisheries and livelihoods, strengthen protection against flooding and rising seas and help communities adapt to a changing climate. But listening to community members, we heard very little about hectares or targets. What people talked about was the future.

It was hope.

In the community of Slagwalu, we met Ben, whose passion, pride and determination were infectious. As we struggled to keep our footing along the muddy mangrove paths, Ben moved through them with ease, pointing out areas where the community had been restoring mangroves and where new seedlings were beginning to take root. As we walked, he shared what he hoped these young trees would become over the next decade.

“When our children grow up,”he said,“these Mangroves will give them shade and food, and stop the super tides from washing everything away.”

Despite losing the use of his right arm in an accident, Ben remains at the centre of the community’s restoration work. As a Regreening Champion, he has helped mobilise the community to restore their mangroves. Walking through the forest, it was clear that the mangroves reflected the efforts of many hands across the community.

This is where climate investment becomes tangible.

Restoration is often described through statistics and technical terms: hectares under restoration, biodiversity gains, carbon stored, communities adapting to climate change. Those things are important. But after spending time in Maeana and Slagwalu, we found ourselves thinking less about the metrics and more about what those metrics represent. Similar stories can be found across the regreening movement, and many of those lessons are captured in the recently updated Regreening Communities Handbook, helping communities learn from one another's successes and challenges.

Food. Livelihoods. Protection. Pride. A future children can inherit.

As governments and institutions prepare for COP31, the question should therefore extend beyond how much climate finance is committed. It should also be where that investment lands, who shapes it and whether it strengthens the systems communities depend on.

As Simon Stiell, Executive Secretary of UN Climate Change, said:

“To speed up and scale up, we must work together to turn commitments into more real-world implementation, delivering real benefits for people, communities and economies.”

The experiences of Maeana and Slagwalu show what implementation can look like when communities have ownership and the investment to act. Similar lessons are captured in the recently updated Regreening Communities Handbook, helping communities learn from one another’s successes and challenges.

At COP31, World Vision will bring a child delegate to share stories like these directly with decision-makers. Not as a symbol, but as a reminder that today’s climate decisions will shape tomorrow’s childhoods.

Long after the speeches have ended and negotiations have concluded, children will inherit the forests, coastlines and ecosystems we leave behind.

Perhaps one day, a young person from one of these communities will stand beneath the shade of a mature mangrove forest and tell this story again. Not as a story of loss, but of recovery. Not as a story of decline, but of a community that came together to shape a different future.

That is the real promise of regreening: not simply restoring landscapes but investing in the people and generations who will live with what we restore.