Run With Me

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tats and music 001Today marks nine years. Nine years ago today, I crossed the finish line at the District Cross country meet in third place. I qualified for Regionals. I crossed that line with one thing in mind—to keep running. I wanted to run from the truth—that my best friend and brother died today.

I tried to train for regionals which would take place the following Saturday. But through casserole delivery, hugs from friends and family, the viewing, the funeral, and the numbness, my training lacked. I showed up to that race. I started. I made it a passed mile one. Then I stopped.

Life is like that race. We find out something that keeps us from the fight. Maybe we fall and just cry. Maybe we run the other direction, hoping that sharp cringe in the backs of our necks will just disappear. When faced with adversity no one blames you. It was circumstantial. You had no control over your lack of fight.

Nine years have passed since you left. But there is still a part of you that pushes me through life’s race. Don’t get me wrong, there have been plenty of times I wanted to give up this race. But for me to put others through the pain you did, on purpose, is selfish.

I know I’m not running this race alone. Maybe you’re not here, but there is a part of me that pretends you are; that you are watching, keeping me constantly in training. I often think, how would Gabe feel about that? You are there, capturing my splits along this race. And because you’re here I know that I can keep running, fighting, and aiming for victory.

Nearly a decade is gone. Life has passing by. But there is one thing I ask: Run with Me until I Fly with You.

Rainy Days Present Blossoms for The Spotted Cow Coffeehouse

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drive throughIt’s a slow day at the coffee shop today. Rain is trickling against the windows. Over the past few weeks I have come to the conclusion that this coffee shop is not my dream. But I tried.

It feels a little like failure. Like jumping into a race and fading out by mile two. Am I giving up too soon? If I pass it on, will it grow into something bigger? Is it a business that was meant to grow eventually, and was it out of my hands to make that happen? These are the questions that are constantly racing through my mind, as I on the outside, admit to failure.

But I didn’t fail. I tried.

My brother Levi, who has Down syndrome, decided to take a different route. Rather than work for me at the coffee shop, he decided to work at Frisches. He absolutely loved the job. He felt a pride in working in a normal place. All he really dreams of is being considered normal. But after one and a half months, the restaurant let him go. He was heartbroken. Not because he lost his paycheck, but because he didn’t measure up.

I can’t blame Frisches. Being a business owner, I understand the struggles of trying to run an efficient business while also surviving the ever-increasing minimum wage. It’s a battle to survive and when you try to develop your combat team, you want the fastest, the smartest, the most creative. Simply, businesses want a dynamically engineered labor force, and we’re stuck with, humans. We all fail. We make mistakes. There is not a perfect person out there, though some often seem to come close.

I opened the Spotted Cow Coffeehouse with people in mind. I didn’t create the business with the idea that I would have the World’s best cup of coffee. As a team we developed a great cup of coffee. The business was built to prove something—that individuals with disabilities do have the ability to offer creativity, knowledge, and efficiency. They know how to offer quality service and a great product.

My workers are successful. They have helped create a valuable product, and they offer great service. They prepare a product as fast and good as any normal business. I don’t hire people with disabilities out of pity. I look at their skills and what can be built from what they have. But because I don’t hire out of pity, I cannot help everyone. There are students in the area writing The Spotted Cow as their dream job, and the business cannot hire them. There are adults with disabilities constantly walking through my door with a sparkle in their eye, hoping to get a job, and I have to turn them away. They say the sky is the limit, but reaching that limit rings as low as the clouds are on this rainy day.

I’m not giving up on the coffee shop. Because I am not a quitter. I am looking for a way to live out my dream—to fulfill the dreams of individuals with developmental disabilities. I want to advocate for these individuals to employers so that they can help these individuals fulfill their dreams. But I cannot do that while running The Spotted Cow. My business will be under new management, but I will still be the owner.

Though today seems dreary, there is always sunshine and joy after rain. It brings new beginnings for both myself and individuals with disabilities. That is a joy in which I can find a glimpse of perfection.

Called

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IMG_1268In the last couple of weeks, an unusual number of people have congratulated me on my success of running a business. They tell me how much they admire my heart, my mission, my ambition.

Whenever presented with this, the inside of me cringes. My stomach flips. I cross my legs like I have to pee. I swallow the giant knot relentlessly wallowing up in my throat, and I quickly try to murmur a humble, thank you. I honestly hope I appear very professional when answering, but inside I feel like a one legged chicken trying to get to the other side of the statement.

I’m sure there’s a great many articles in Forbes on how to be a great business professional. How to overcome the anxiety and be the greatest leader in my industry. Build a strong sense of pride and you will always be respected, or, never let anyone know you’re scared to death to run a business.

First I want to say, if you ever have congratulated me on my success, I don’t want you to feel badly. You did absolutely nothing wrong. If anything, you were just trying to help. The fact of the matter is, I don’t feel like I deserve the credit.

Yes this is the point where I have to say, I would not be where I am without God. I realize this is the point where many of you will stop reading this. She’s just another oh-so-holy Christian that flaunts Jesus. I know that mindset, because I’ve been there.

If you’ve read my previous blogs, you know that I lost a brother about seven years ago. The day he died, I decided God died too. I walked away because He let me down. The truth is, even though I left God, He never left me. My business exists because I almost didn’t, and God always has. I went back.

Many times people ask, why a coffee shop? My business response is: It was a good fit; Coffee is the number two import to the United States and I had good connections for production. My true motivation: Eric and Levi; Coffee is a simple yet creative opportunity for my brothers to create a quality of life for themselves.

It’s all about which type of leader you want to be. A leader that makes a point, or a leader that makes a difference. My analytical mind has me constantly wandering through the numbers—we should do this because it will effect this in an optimal way. But what about risky decisions? There can be so many outlying variables that even the most flamboyant person would get a little weary in the outcome.

That’s when God steps in. He said, “So you want to open a coffee shop?” Magically, a building was presented to our family. Mystically, someone was selling every item we needed in a bundle for a very accommodating price. Paranormally, all the funds aligned for me to open the doors of my business directly out of college. Some call me lucky, others say blessed. I say, called.

So why do I get so uncomfortable? Because I wear a title of Founder and CEO, but I’m really just a catalyst. It is a constant battle inside me. My worldly mind is filled with pride, and my heart is filled with humility. I have a vision to make this business as successful as possible. My mind tells me the idea of being rich and famous is intriguing. My heart tells me that I need to provide as many jobs to people that might not otherwise gain the opportunity. Both sides make sense. Maybe both methods are possible. But I know that I have been called to make a difference, not a point.

And let us not grow weary of doing good, for in due season we will reap, if we do not give up.—Galatians 6:9