How many times have I sat here at this very computer trying to figure out how to begin? But as I sit here right now, beginning seems like the easy part. It’s the ending that’s hard. How does an artist know when the last brush stroke is the very last one? Or the novelist the last line of the book? How do you know when it’s time to put the dog down?
We live in a world of finish lines and bake times. The course is clearly marked. The instructions tell us exactly what to do.
When we have to guess, we second-guess and obsess over possible outcomes. How do we know that the choice we made was the best choice?
The Beginning
The Coffeehouse was a dream I didn’t know I had until it quite literally nearly fell into my lap. Last summer, my husband Gavin left his job as a pastor of a large church—a church where we knew lots of people and more importantly, lots of people knew us. Leaving it was painful, but then—THE COFFEEHOUSE. Here was a place filled to bursting every single day with people from the community I loved, and It was FOR SALE!
Fast forward to October 15th, and I became the principal owner. With an incredible team willing to stay on, the transition was pretty seamless. But as you know, any new venture is fraught with challenges, and there have been no shortages of challenges at Copper Coin. While we wanted the integrity of the space to remain the same (delicious single origin espresso based lattes prepared by trained baristas), we also had to figure out who we really wanted to be. We overhauled the kitchen and created a new menu, developed a set of company values, and instituted some new procedures for food prep and cleaning. We pressed pause on live music and didn’t renew the liquor license.
We wanted to be a safe place for people to pause, connect, and create. We wanted to be known for having the friendliest baristas and the best coffee. We knew we couldn’t be everything to everybody. We spruced up the outside. We signed up for a weekly delivery of fresh flowers for inside. And we started selling cinnamon rolls that soon became a hot commodity in downtown Woodstock.
On most days, you’ll see a line out the door. And an open laptop on every table.
The business model just doesn’t work. And I didn’t want to sell alcohol or have live music. There are a dozen other places in downtown Woodstock that do that really well. We wanted to be a different kind of space—a space for creative work and festive meet-ups, a place where everybody was welcome and everybody belonged.
The Ending
And so, after ten months of poring over P&L’s, of not taking a salary, of doing everything we could to increase ticket averages, and improve our space without spending any more money, today we announced to the public, “Our time has come. We’re closing our doors forever on September 3rd.” Our lease is up, and at this pivotal time in the US economy, committing to another five years is just too scary. There’s too many things in the shop that need fixed or replaced. We cannot continue to deliver the experience our community deserves, and so we’re opening up our hands and letting go. And that’s hard! I want to clench my fists and yell, “No! Not yet! We’re not ready!”
But end we must.
And I don’t know how.
How do you end something that by all accounts is still good?
The other day, I was thinking about this and if I’m being completely honest, begging God to tell me. “How?, God? How do I end this without looking like an idiot? How do I end this without disappointing a lot of good people? How? How? How?” I opened up my Bible, which is what I usually do when I don’t hear an audible voice from God. And to be honest, he’s never said anything out loud to me. Sometimes, I feel like life would be much easier if he did. Anyway, apparently, he did do a lot of talking in ancient times. And this is what I found, that there’s some other guys (and girls) who also had questions that began with “How?”
There was Moses, who asked, “HOW can I go to the king and bring the Israelites out of Egypt?”
And Sarah, who asked, “HOW could a worn-out woman like me enjoy such pleasure, especially when my master—my husband—is also so old?”
And Gideon who asked, “HOW can I save Israel? Indeed my clan is the weakest in Manassah, and I am the youngest in my father’s house.”
Maybe the most famous “How” question of them all:
Mary, who asked the angel, “HOW can this be? I’m a virgin.”
In exchange after exchange, God basically answers something to the effect of “I will be with you.” Isn’t that what he always says?
I will be with you.
If it was enough for Moses, Sarah, Gideon, and Mary, shouldn’t it be enough for me?
The answer is Yes, Chantel. Yes, it should be enough.
I’m reminded of a phrase I once heard from the pastor at our church: “What would you do if you were absolutely certain that GOD WAS WITH YOU?”
I used to think this was a question about taking risks, but maybe it’s not. Maybe it’s an invitation to invite God into the space I inhabit right now. Even though right now is hard. Ending is painful. We are heartbroken. A lot of people are disappointed. In some ways, it even feels like a gaping hole has opened up in downtown Woodstock.
We had a team meeting last night, and I couldn’t even talk. You’ve heard of ugly crying? I don’t cry very much, and I definitely need to practice because not only was it ugly, but it was also LOUD. Talk about being vulnerable! I don’t think those twenty-year-olds knew what was happening.
“Make it stop!” they were begging me with their eyes.
And even though I don’t know what’s next, my prayer is that we are creating space for something even better. I will go down believing that no experience is ever wasted.
After the announcement today, our Instagram and Facebook feed was flooded with messages of support. As I sit here tonight typing this post, I know that support is God’s way of saying, “See? I told you I was with you.” (Maybe he’s even winking)
Thank you, friends.
If you live in downtown Woodstock, please visit the coffeehouse before September 3rd and share with us what this place has meant to you. And if you don’t, my hope is that wherever you live you’ll find a place like Copper Coin to sit with a friend an enjoy a hot beverage, that you’ll give thanks for the moments that matter and the magic that happens when we share our lives (and our work) with one another.