Restoring Dignity

Moving to Kentucky to start a homestead on a naked piece of land was one of the most difficult decisions of my life. It was made with very little planning and a whole lot of faith. Family, friends and locals all have asked why I would do such a thing. The answer is simple; arriving at it has been difficult. I am here to restore a bit of my personal dignity and to offer this restoration to any who may need it.

Years ago, I got the call that we all dread. My mom had passed. Naturally, I was devastated, but as time passed, my sorrow grew, or festered, into an inescapable anger. It is there when I remember my mom passed before she picked up her last paycheck. It stayed with me when my colleagues began to get sick and pass away. It became a permanent part of my character, when I saw friends become homeless, because of a lack of resources in a society that no longer cares.

My escape over the years had become and still is, to some extent, my workshop. This is where I am at peace. The ugliness of the world has never been allowed in my shop. It is where I create beauty – tangible beauty. It is important that it is tangible and that it is beautiful, because those are the two hardest parts of our faith to understand. Our faith is our faith because we can't touch it and what we consider beautiful is often questioned by society.

I think St. Joseph understood this better than most. I think this is why St. Joseph recognizes the dignity in manual labor, in the ability to create something beautiful for the glory of God. As I transition from a life of academia into one of manual labor, St. Joseph has become an integral part of my faith. I have begun to understand him more fully. He is not only a father, he provides peace and restores dignity to the soul.

In his honor, we are naming our workshop after St. Joseph. While we are named after Mary, we strive to live our lives inspired by the Holy Family.