Early this summer, my entire family made the trek to northern Wisconsin to visit our ancestral homestead. Roughly 25 years had passed since we last set eyes on it, thanks to conflicting schedules and other circumstances, but honestly, not much had changed at the old place.
Yet as I sat on the dock, my feet in the clear, iron-tinted water of the lake, or walked along the country road, marveling that numbers of my ancestors had once homesteaded in this community and owned the land I was passing, I gained a better understanding of the importance of family heritage. And in a time in which we’re bombarded with how terrible the past was, it seems fitting to explore that heritage, not only to honor those who have gone before, but also to inspire those who will come after.