Clearing the Way: Grahn Restoration Begins

In 1940, over 70% of Appalachian homes had no electricity…

But nearly every one had a neighbor who’d show up when it mattered.

Sometimes, the most sacred work doesn’t start with a paycheck. It starts with a phone call. A name. A quiet story passed from one neighbor to another.

A shed completely overgrown by brush and weeds.

This week, we were asked to visit a property in Grahn, Kentucky. An elder’s land. Years had gone by since it had been properly tended—not out of neglect, but because time has a way of changing what we’re able to do with our own hands. When the body slows down and family thins out, the land keeps growing. Brush moves in. The paths grow narrower. And the memories... they start to disappear beneath it all.

But this land still held life.

We walked it slowly at first. You could feel the history in the way the trees leaned, the way the fence line dipped near the back field. You could tell someone once loved this place deeply—maybe still did, just without the strength to show it the way they used to.

Thomas “left” Brandon “middle” Xaver “right” Walking up to start the job.

We didn’t come in with judgment. We came in with string trimmers, chainsaws, and a commitment to leave it better than we found it. And we did.

Xaver “left” Thomas “right” Working to clear her property.

We cleared the fence lines, opened up the spaces around the house, and gave back visibility to a place that had become hidden even from itself. What we uncovered wasn’t just land—it was dignity. It was story. It was the right to be seen, to be honored, and to live in a place that reflects who you are, not what time has taken.

Side of the house cleared.

She told us guests don’t always leave things better. Some come with good intentions. Some don’t. But when you’re an elder in the hills, sometimes company is worth the cost. Still, it adds up—physically, emotionally, and across the landscape.

That’s why this matters.

Back of the house cleared.

What we’re building isn’t just a service. It’s a promise. If you’ve held your community together through your life, we will not let you be forgotten in your later years. If you’ve cared for land, for children, for neighbors, and now find yourself overwhelmed—we will show up.

Front of the house cleared.

This is part of our restoration work. Not just buildings. Not just brush.

People.

Xaver and Thomas Out front of the completed project.

If you know someone who needs this—really needs it—reach out. We work on donations and fuel money, but we don’t wait for perfect conditions. We move when the story calls us.

Watch the restoration below. Share it. And if you feel moved to give, know that every dollar goes back into making these moments possible.

This is what Restoring What Was Lost truly means.