This year, my home turned 100 years old. I've found myself thinking about that quite a bit lately. I wonder who built it all those years ago, what their lives were like, and whether they ever imagined that a hundred years later, someone would still be calling it home.
I wish I knew who they were. I wish I could thank them.
To some, it's just an old house. But to me, it's much more than that. It's a place that has shaped my life, provided countless memories, and become part of who I am. I've touched nearly every inch of it, whether restoring, painting, or improving something. And if there's one thing I've learned about owning a 100-year-old home, it's that the projects never really end. Some days I think the house has more plans for me than I have for it.
Whoever built it back in 1926 probably wasn't thinking about leaving a legacy. They were simply building a home.
Yet a hundred years later, here I am, living in the legacy they left behind.
That thought has stayed with me as I consider the work we do at North Dakota Housing Finance Agency (NDHFA) and the lasting impact it can have.
We often measure our success in dollars invested, homes created, and households helped. Those numbers are important, but the true impact of our work is something much greater, and something we may never fully see.
Think about a home we help make possible today. It might be a first home purchased by a young family, a new home built in a rural community, or an affordable apartment that provides someone with stability and a fresh start.
A hundred years from now, that home may still be standing. Families we will never meet will gather around its kitchen table. Children who haven't yet been born will celebrate birthdays, open Christmas presents and make memories in its living room. There will be laughter, challenges, and countless ordinary moments that together make a house a home.
But the lasting impact goes well beyond its walls. A home provides stability, a foundation for children to grow, and opportunities that can be carried forward from one generation to the next. The structure itself may stand for a hundred years, but the lives shaped within it can have an impact that lasts even longer.
Recently, we attended a national housing conference where one of our programs was nominated for an award. While we didn't win, it reinforced something I've always believed. Awards and recognition are nice, but they aren't why we do what we do. An award doesn't validate the impact of a program, just as not receiving one doesn't diminish it. The real measure of our success is the people we're helping and the difference we're making in their lives.
Years from now, nobody may remember which programs received awards. But the homes we helped create and the opportunities that came from our work will still be there.
Just as I don't know who built my home a hundred years ago, the families who benefit from our work in the future will likely never know our names. They won't know about the decisions, financing, or partnerships that helped make their homes possible.
And that's okay.
Because our legacy isn't about being remembered. It's about making a difference that lasts.
The living rooms we will never sit in, the families we will never meet, and the lives we will never know we've touched are all part of what we're building today.
And none of it happens alone.
From financial advisors, underwriters, and investors who help make our financing possible to federal, state, and local partners who provide critical resources, and the lenders, developers, builders, real estate professionals, nonprofit organizations, and countless others who turn those resources into housing opportunities, it takes an incredible network of dedicated people to make it all happen.
That includes our own NDHFA team, whose work behind the scenes is just as important, even if the families who benefit never know their names.
As Thanksgiving approaches, I want to express my gratitude to everyone who is part of this work. Your dedication and willingness to work together make a lasting difference in communities across North Dakota.
One hundred years from now, someone may be sitting in a living room we helped make possible, completely unaware of the people who helped put it there. Maybe they'll wonder who made their home possible, just as I wonder about mine.
And I can't think of a better legacy to leave behind.
Happy Thanksgiving and thank you for being part of it.