This month I had the honor of selling my mom’s house. She grew up during the Great Depression. As a young girl, she once asked her mother for a new dress. Her grandmother—knowing there wasn’t money—stitched one from a flour sack. It wasn’t the fancy dress she dreamed of, but it sewed into her a lifelong belief in how to make something out of nothing. As a teenage mom, my mom spent most of her life putting others first. But at age 60, she did something wild—she bought a tired one-bedroom cabin on Lake Superior. We thought she was out of her mind. Turns out, just like that flour sack dress, she transformed that humble little cabin into something extraordinary—a sanctuary where family and friends gathered. Selling my mom’s house wasn’t just a real estate transaction—it was a way to honor the life she built. Last week, we stood on the deck for one final photo—grinning through tears, saying goodbye. It wasn’t just a home. It was her declaration of independence, her happy place, her le...