08/02/2026
I've been staring at pictures for over an hour.
Thousands of them.
Pictures from the day we signed the papers... to the pictures I took just a few days ago.
I realized something.
This page has been quiet for a long time.
Not because we gave up.
Not because the dream died.
Honestly... because I didn't know how to put the last few years into words.
When we bought this old building, we really believed we'd be opening in a couple of months.
We walked in with big dreams, a little bit of money, and absolutely no idea what this hundred year old building had waiting for us.
Every wall we opened led to another project.
Every floor we pulled up uncovered another problem.
One repair became ten.
We've rebuilt floors. Tore out walls. Rewired electrical. Reworked plumbing. Repaired crawl spaces. Replaced rotten framing. Leveled floors that had settled for decades. Installed gutters where there had been none for years. Chased water coming in from every direction. Reinforced what time had nearly taken away. Scraped. Sanded. Painted. Demolished. Rebuilt. Then did it all over again somewhere else.
Some days it felt like we were making progress.
Other days it felt like this building was fighting us every single inch of the way.
Then life reminded us that dreams don't exist in a vacuum.
TJ suffered a serious back injury.
I survived a stroke.
Not long after that... a heart attack.
Those moments have a way of changing you.
Suddenly this wasn't just about opening a store anymore.
It became about refusing to let life steal another dream.
There were days this place absolutely broke me.
Days I cried because I couldn't see the end.
Days I questioned every decision we'd made.
Days I wondered if we had traded our peace for something we'd never actually finish.
This building has taken every extra dollar we've had.
It has taken evenings after work.
Weekends.
Vacations.
Sleep.
Energy.
More trips to the hardware store than I could ever count.
It has tested our marriage, our patience, our strength, and at times... our faith.
But somewhere along the way...
She quit being a building.
She became our evenings after work. Our weekends. Our vacations. Our arguments. Our therapy. Our heartbreak. Our excitement. Our hope. She became the thing we talked about over dinner, the thing we dreamed about at night, and the first thing we thought about every morning.
Somewhere along the way... this old building became part of our family.
And maybe that's why we've refused to walk away.
Because we've been rebuilding her.....while life was rebuilding us.
This year, the original part of this beautiful old building turns 100 years old.
One hundred years.
Just imagine everything these walls have witnessed. The people who've walked through these doors. The conversations. The laughter. The hardships. The meals that were shared here. The families who made memories here. The generations that have come and gone.
She has stood through storms, brutal winters, changing times, and decades of being slowly forgotten.
And somehow... she was still standing here waiting for someone to believe she was worth saving.
I think that's why we've fought so hard.
Not because it's easy.
Not because it's profitable.
Because some things deserve to be saved.
I haven't shared much on this page because, honestly, I think I was waiting until I had something finished to show you.
Now I realize the journey is the story.
So these pictures aren't just before and after photos.
They're years of our lives.
They're proof that dreams rarely happen as quickly as we imagine.
They're proof that life can knock you flat on your back... and somehow you still find the strength to get back up, pick up the hammer one more time, and keep believing.
They're proof that sometimes the things worth having ask everything you have to give.
We're not completely there yet.
But for the first time...
I can honestly say we're close.
Really close.
If all goes the way we're hoping, Dirt Road Trading Post will open during the 100th year of this incredible old building.
I can't think of a better way to honor her first century than by giving her a second one.
When you finally walk through these doors, I hope you don't just see a store.
I hope you see the years hidden behind these pictures.
The long nights.
The sore backs.
The scraped knuckles.
The sawdust.
The paint on our clothes.
The tears no one saw.
The laughter that kept us going.
The hope that refused to die.
Because Dirt Road Trading Post was never just built with lumber and nails.
It was built with perseverance.
With stubbornness.
With love.
And with the belief that some dreams are worth fighting for... no matter how long they take.
Thank you to every single person who has stuck with us... even when it looked like nothing was happening.
I promise you...
Something beautiful is coming.
