When All Hope Seems Lost
You know the feeling. That one where you’re up to something good, something that benefits others, and no matter which direction you turn, it seems like all of the forces of nature have been set out specifically against you, with the sole aim of thwarting your efforts?
That’s where the past few days have left me.
Battered, beat down, discouraged, and several times on the verge of sheer hopelessness…
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It was exactly a month ago when I got the email notifying me that the building we run our business in had sold, and that everyone needed to be out by November 20th at the latest.
We were in the middle of exhibiting at a trade show, introducing ourselves to new customers, trying to grow our business, when the email came in.
Fortunately, I had experienced God’s provision just days earlier, when the owner of a very small local brewery had called me asking if I was interested in taking over the remaining two and a half years on his lease. He had an opportunity outside of beer and was looking to get out.
I had received a potentially terrifying email, but thanks be to God, was already working on a new space.
Things seemed promising. The zoning requirements fit, the building was the right size, and it would allow us to grow our business by offering a small retail coffee bar in addition to our existing wholesale operation.
I was so overwhelmed by the offer from the brewery owner that I literally cried after I got off the phone.
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We’re three weeks away from November 20th now, and in spite of my best efforts to finalize the lease assignment from the brewery, things took a turn last week.
At the 11th hour, a larger brewery here in SoCal decided they could expand their own operations by purchasing the business outright.
The space I have been working on for the past month is suddenly slipping through my fingers, and there’s absolutely nothing I can do about it.
I don’t blame the guy for wanting to cash out rather than let me take his lease over while he walks away with nothing. I probably would do the exact same thing if I were in his shoes.
But where does that leave me?
It’s not exactly easy to relocate a coffee roasting business.
Moving is the easy part; finding the location? That’s another…
We have to find warehouse space that’s not too big, not too small, plumbed for natural gas, zoned for manufacturing, and a space we can bring up to county health code as a food-processing facility.
I’ve been keeping my eye out for years for such spaces, and let me tell you, there aren’t a whole lot that fit the criteria.
And so here I am, fighting for my life (or at least the life of my business), and I’ve got three weeks to live.
I’d like to say I’m super spiritual, possessing an unwavering faith in God, and that I’ve been sleeping like a baby, singing worship songs in my car, offering goodnight lullabies to my children, and being a pleasant person to be around.
But I’m not.
I do pray, (and often) and even found myself admitting to God the other day that, even though I wholeheartedly trust him in this process, it’s still damn stressful…
I literally could be forced to shut down, not because people don’t like our product, not because we can’t sell enough coffee to cover our costs, but because we don’t have a location to run our business in.
And that’s a sobering thought.
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I’ve been down this road before.
When we first started Wild Goose Coffee Roasters, we had a very tight window for moving our roaster from La Jolla (where we bought it used) to Redlands. We already had wholesale customers at the time, and had been working on a new location for, oh about a month…
When suddenly the arrangement we had worked out fell through.
Less than a week before we were supposed to move the roaster.
The fears and stress were some of the most intense I had ever experienced; all of the hard work I had spent for several years building this brand and business were about to fall apart, all for lack of a building…
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That Sunday, at church, while introducing myself to a new couple, I found myself juggling conversations between Steve and Debbie (the new couple) and Alan, who listed compassionately as I told him the sob story of our building falling through.
Debbie suddenly offered: “Oh, you’re looking for a warehouse? We’re in a warehouse, and we have extra room, why don’t you come take a look?”
That sidebar with Alan unknowingly introduced us to our new landlords and our first home for Wild Goose.
I am forever grateful to God for introducing me to Steve and Debbie, and to them for allowing us to get our start in their facility.
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So, without having met our new Steve and Debbie yet, where do I find hope now?
I can honestly say that, even though the stakes are immeasurably higher this time around, my stress level has been noticeably lower. Not absent, mind you, but definitely lower.
Why?
Because I’m confident that God has me on this roller coaster called social entrepreneurship, and that even though the cart feels like it’s about to fall off the track, I’m convinced that the track is still there.
I can’t see it, and the forces are pulling me so strongly that I’m left terrified and short of breath, but deep down I know that things will work out.
Somehow.
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I find comfort in the scriptures, especially in times like these. Just now, I read Hebrews 11, that famous chapter on Faith.
And you know what caught my attention as I read of countless saints who faced immeasurable odds in their journeys?
The development of Faith produces intimacy with God.
And we don’t develop a whole lot of faith when the sailing is smooth, do we?
Oh, if I had my way, the waters would be perpetually calm, the sun would always be shining a comfortable 72 degrees, and the song in my heart would be a peaceful, joyful one.
But life ain’t all roses, as they say.
And so I grab on to the ropes with tired hands, fighting on.
And deep in my heart, although I can’t really explain it, I feel that deep-down-inside peace that provides tangible evidence that intimacy with the God who loves me is being nurtured…
And that steadfast knowledge that God will see me through this, even though I haven’t a clue about the specifics, is so reassuring, and on such a deep level.
I know I’ll be able to look back, and someday have a story to tell. One of those remember when? kind of stories, where we share laughter and awe at a God who provides, out of the blue, when we least expect it but when we need it the most…
I don’t know how, or when, or through what means just yet.
But I can’t wait to keep you updated…