When my husband’s grandparents passed, their farm went up for sale to settle the estate. A developer almost bought it. The deal fell through by chance. So we sold our home of 14 years and use every dollar of equity we had spent 14 years building to buy it back. Papa and Gran purchased this farm in the 1980s and built the farmhouse out of an old army barrack. And we couldn’t watch it go to a stranger. We didn’t inherit this farm. We inherited the option to buy it. We sold our home. We bought 37 acres and the farmhouse. And we have been working to bring this place back to life ever since. The farmhouse needed everything. Foundation. Subfloor. Septic. Drywall. Paint. We fixed some of it. We have added sheep, donkeys, chickens, quail, and livestock guardian dogs. We survived our first lambing season. We planted a garden and a flower field. We brought Papa’s old Peterbilt back to this land. Gran wrote a letter to her mother the day she bought this farm in 1982. We found it in a barrel of old documents. She wrote about being anxious to get started because she just wanted her own home. She never got to see this farmhouse finished. We are finishing it for her. The funds from selling our house are gone. We are building income streams one at a time to keep this farm alive — TikTok, a sheep guide for first year farmers, Amazon, and Papa’s Peterbilt which we are getting road ready for commercial work. But we still need help bridging the gap. Every dollar goes directly toward keeping this farm in the family and finishing what Gran started. We are not farmers. We are just a family who decided some things are worth fighting for. And we are not done yet.