It’s been one of those stretches where things have just been… heavy.

You know, when you feel like you’re rolling a big boulder uphill in every aspect of your life. Over the past few weeks, I’ve just had one of those stretches where it seems like everything takes considerable effort, and despite that effort, everything still goes backwards. Pair that with the physical exhaustion that invariably accompanies seasons of stress, and you’ve got a compound effect that can feel more than a bit overwhelming.

For some context: We had a fire in the ductwork at our roastery a couple of weeks ago that completely put us out of commission. The inner wall of the ducting completely melted, there were flames shooting out of the coffee roaster – everything was severely damaged. 

Thankfully, people were fine and the building was fine, but our ability to roast coffee and therefore keep the business alive was shot.

We’ve managed to find a solution that involves driving to San Diego weekly in order to keep coffee moving to our customers, but while that solution allows for us to stay afloat, it’s an exhausting part of our weekly routine.

Take the above, toss in some heavy responsibilities at church, as well as a splash of relational conflict and you’ve got yourself the perfect concoction…

That stress has been slowly piling up: You know it’s bad when you burst into tears during lunch because the crab meat I’m trying to pry out from its shell isn’t coming out easily. (I mean, seriously, I feel like a spoiled brat even confessing that – it’s not lost on me that eating crab legs is a matter of privilege, and yet I go crying about it because it’s ‘too hard’…)

But whether you cry over crab legs, or you’re crying over something more substantial, the fact of the matter is, life is challenging. It’s difficult. Nothing is guaranteed, no matter how hard you work to try to protect, build, or nurture. Nothing is guaranteed.

And so, when I’m in that kind of headspace, I go outdoors to get some time alone with God. Today I went up to one of my favorite spots in nearby Oak Glen – a quiet, apple-picking village about a mile high in elevation, where the trees change color in the fall, and the oaks stand as proud witnesses to the generations and seasons that have come and gone during their lifetime.

This morning, I drew inspiration from my friends at Los Rios Rancho – about a year ago, they lost their entire operation in a tragic fire. The barn that stood for 115 years, gone over the course of a morning. The wedding carriage that was built by Mrs. Riley’s grandfather, that carried generations of joyful couples, gone. The source of income that had provided for their families, as well as created memories for so many who visit the area – gone. 

I remember talking with the Rileys shortly after the fire. I vividly remember hearing of family members falling to their knees, sobbing heavy tears of grief as their building and their business burned right in front of them.

But what is so inspiring to me is that, despite so much uncertainty, in the face of so much hardship, in spite of having to spend incredible amounts of energy to rebuild, they’ve kept their faith that God will carry them through, and they’ve kept their ability to love others through their storm.

Now – this doesn’t mean that all is rosy, and it doesn’t mean they take a Ned Flanders approach to life, blithely believing God will bless everything and failing to acknowledge any current hardship.

It’s quite the opposite, really.

I’ve been honored to hear them share about their difficulties with rebuilding. Challenges with insurance (they’ve received nothing in a settlement yet). Challenges finding the financing to build a new facility (they’re currently running the business out of a big white tent and a rented portable kitchen). Challenges with building permits (they’re still waiting after months of back and forth).

But in their honesty, it is clear to me that they still see God carrying them through. In fact, even this morning during my visit, I heard them compare their day-to-day to the manna the Israelites received in the desert – not enough to carry over to the next day, but just enough to sustain them that morning. And that has happened for them every day for the past year.

And so here’s my takeaway:

Life is uncertain. There’s no guarantee of safety, of security, of anything predictable.

There is no “if-then” statement that’s completely infallible or independent of disruption.

But in the presence of those uncertainties, there can be found treasures if we search hard enough. Those treasures can be found in that manna – that provision that carries us on for another day. That faith that says that the bad stuff doesn’t get the final say; the seeking out of wise counsel from people who have traveled the road before you, and who can share their stories – both the highs, but also the lows.

Because the alternative is to quit, and no great stories are ever written about the quitters.

It’s those who persevere, who face life’s challenges head-on, who acknowledge that sometimes life sucks and is really hard, but who still fight on – those are the stories that inspire.

And so today, my inspiration comes from a big white tent, a few stories about tears and about manna, and from the large oak trees that have seen it all and still stand faithful in the presence of their creator.

Because if the Rileys can persevere and the oaks can persevere, then maybe, just maybe, I can too…