Ch 8: A Just-in-Time Blessing

Sometimes you just have to cut your losses.

Not long after Maria’s visit in December 2007, the idea that we might finally be able to sell the store began to grow in my consciousness. 

[Editor's Note: This article is Chapter 8 in my serialized spiritual memoir Well Guided: My Life as a Student at the International Academy of God, in which I share some of the many ways God has had a hand in my life. Access previous chapters via the Table of Contents.]

The Beginning of the End

On January 12, 2008, I transcribed this message in my journal:

And now know that the time approaches to sell your land and the business. Fear not to sell because there will be other businesses for your children to run – other things for them to do. Do not fail to respond to the next offer you get. I tell you now these people – these buyers – are sent by me though it will not appear to you that way at first. You will be tempted to doubt my judgment. But just take your time – do your due diligence – and do not reject them immediately. They will grow on you as you get to know them.

Two weeks later, on a Saturday morning, I woke up early and made notes in my journal about a dream that began with Husband and I driving past a convenience store chain with a black sign with “Amoco” printed in red. I interpreted this to be our store. (Amoco was the brand of gas we had sold before Amoco was bought out by BP. Although, of course, we weren’t the only Amoco store in town.)

Then, on the same road, we passed another store with the same sign. It was a tiny place. A store we were familiar with in real life. We were surprised they had sold to the chain that was expanding into our area, as this newly purchased store was near ours.

I heard Husband’s voice saying, “Sometimes you just have to cut your losses.”

On March 3, 2008, I checked in with God again:

Father,
How am I doing, Lord, in response to your call? How can I know when I’m being tempted or misled? What else can I, should I, do to prepare myself and my family for what is to come? Master, speak, thy servant heareth. I love you. Amen.

The response began with guidance on preparing to write a book. This was an idea that had been dancing around in the deep recesses of my mind since 1995. But then the topic switched back to the store.

Let it be known to you now that the store will sell in this next year if I have any say in it. Of course, people have their agency, but I am working even now, as I have been for years, to prepare the right buyer for you – not Patrick [our fuel supplier], not the Indians [at the next exit]. But just as the Watsons had to wait [two years] until you were ready to buy [their house], so you have to wait for these other buyers. 

Do a land lease if you can, but that may not work. One way or another, you must both free yourselves from that responsibility (the store) so that you can proceed to the other, greater, works I have for the two of you – both separately and as a couple. For where two or more are joined together, my Spirit will be with you and enable you to do more than either could do alone. Amen.

Having the Conversation

Then, one cool but sunny morning not long after this last message, Husband found me alone in the store’s office and closed the door. This was always a signal that a serious discussion was coming.

“Normally by now our fuel sales would have turned around after the usual dip in January and February,” he began. “But they haven’t come back. I think something is wrong with the economy. We need to sell. Now!”

In early 2008, the average American had no clue that The Great Recession had already begun, or how bad things would get by 2009. (Photo: Associated Press; Photographer: Paul Sakuma)

The concern on his face matched the fear in his voice. He handed me a print-out of the year-to-date weekly fuel sales. I was already convinced. Truth be told, any excuse to sell the store would have worked for me. 

“Well, how are we going to do that? We’ve tried before and never been able to get an offer that covered our loans.”

“If you’re in agreement, I’ll talk to John about it and see if he has any ideas.” John was our commercial real estate agent. He had been trying to get us a deal to sell a piece of our farmland that was across the street from the store.

From that quiet conversation, an amazing, whirlwind, surreal few months ensued.

Husband called John and told him we were going to have to raise money somehow, and that our first choice was to sell the store. 

At the same time, my journaling frequency picked up a bit, as it usually does when change is on the wind. On March 15, as Husband prepared to meet with John, I was prompted to write this message:

Even now I prepare the way for you to sell the store – I say again. Do not continue thinking that you will somehow keep it – the land maybe you can keep, but not the store. It is not in harmony with what I would have you do next, so you must distance yourself from it as much as possible. Even owning the land still – or Husband owning it – may be too great a connection with the sins and idols peddled there. Don’t worry about the loss of friends, acquaintances, etc. These will be made up in other ways as you pursue the other paths that await you if you but follow my direction.

Puzzle Pieces Falling into Place

Coincidentally, about that same time, John had been approached by Stuart, a competitor of ours, to collaborate on some real estate development projects. John mentioned to Stuart that we wanted to sell.

Stuart owned a regional chain of convenience stores (many of which had sold Amoco/BP fuel). In fact, we had already failed to make a deal with him once before (in 2001). He was familiar with our property, and he was interested, but his first offer wouldn’t cover our commercial loans. Stuart then made a better offer, but on the condition that we not discuss the sale with other potential buyers.

On March 24, my brain was already jumping to what would come next for me after the store. I asked God, “What else can you share with me about my future mission?” While there was ample response to that question, there was also this message about the process of selling:

And now about the future. Look to the options John and [John’s partner] have given you but do not abandon the store just yet. The time has still not arrived. Keep your mind on the store yet a little longer. Read about preparing for a sale while you wait. You will need to get the most that you can.

Given how my brain was already looking to the next project, this was very appropriate guidance. It’s in my nature to jump ahead, to the detriment of the present. Staying focused on the daily needs of the store had already become a challenge.

Husband and I discussed our options: sell some land or sell the store, hopefully to Stuart. We needed to do something, and fast. Besides the shaky economic outlook, we’d been weathering a recent fee increase by our fuel supplier and a balloon payment on our loans would soon be due. We’d have to refinance. And that would require a big chunk of cash. 

At one point, Husband made the comment, “We have to cut our losses.” We gave John the go-ahead to take the deal with Stuart.

One Last Gotcha

In June 2008, three months after Husband raised the economic alarm, we were sitting in a lawyer’s office signing papers to be released from what had felt like nine years of indentured servitude. 

Now, I’m not going to tell you our lives were smooth sailing economically from here. There were problems, even at the closing. 

The first date we set had to be changed. Then, as we finally sat down to a celebratory lunch with John before the closing, he regretfully informed us that he wasn’t going to be able to discount his commission as planned. 

We had signed an agreement to pay a 10% commission with the understanding that that was just a formality. The verbal agreement was for 3%. John blamed forces internal to his firm that were beyond his control.

We were blind-sided. But what could we do? In addition to the signed agreement, we already had one foot out the door, operationally. Our fuel supply contract had been canceled. Employees, inventory, and suppliers were all positioned to transition that day. We couldn’t stop the train. 

And, mentally, our brains had left the building. 

Reluctant, and seeing no other option, we agreed to the higher commission rate.

Our lunch was not the celebration we’d envisioned. Even the food was against us. From the first bite, Husband sensed something wasn’t right with the chicken. I’ll spare you the details. Let’s just say that the day left us gagging in more ways than one. 

The JIT Blessing

So, no, the closing wasn’t ideal. And nine months later we would discover our accountant hadn’t properly reviewed the way the sale agreement had been structured. This led to a huge unexpected tax bill. And there were struggles finding new ways to support our family.

All that was minor compared to what happened three months after we closed on the sale. 

In September 2008, the U.S. economy took a nose dive.

Our already struggling business would never have survived The Great Recession. And since we had put up the entire farm as collateral, we would have lost that as well.

The rocky sale of the store was a JIT (just-in-time) blessing. 

True to God’s word, our business hadn’t failed.

So Many Lessons

They say, write from experience. Write what you know. I had just had a massive dose of new experiences. I had seen things, heard things, felt things that I’d only encountered indirectly, through books or TV or movies. Now, for better or worse, I had material enough for a nearly inexhaustible supply of stories.

I learned about myself, especially my strengths and weaknesses. I learned what it is like to be a single parent, raising the boys in one state while Husband was on-site in another, for construction.

I learned what it takes to catch a thief.

I saw eyes. Bedroom eyes. Rasputin eyes. Never seen elsewhere (by me), before or since.

We were on a first-name basis with state troopers and local ministers, with prostitutes and addicts. We hired and fired the most trustworthy of people, and the most dishonest, often not knowing the difference until it was too late.

Employees grew, learned, and were encouraged to want more out of life. They saw new possibilities for themselves. They were mentored and they mentored others. Relationships formed that have lasted to this day. Some romantic relationships formed. Those didn’t last, but a few children resulted. 

In short, all the things that happened in any small community happened at the store. 

A lot happened to us, too. We had been in the “high place” of owner, boss, example-setter, striving to create a culture based on the values of honesty, integrity, fairness, teamwork, worthiness of all, service to community, and making the most of whatever you’ve got. 

We tried to create the sort of workplace we would have wanted as employees. No one had to ask us for a pay raise. We assessed what people were making and rewarded those deserving. We paid merit-based Christmas bonuses. A bonus-and-penalty program that encouraged arriving on time worked like a charm on those who tended to be habitually late to work. 

Perhaps we were too generous.

Ahead of Our Time

And, we tried to create the sort of business we would have wanted to frequent as customers. Especially as family-type customers, possibly with young children in tow. Warm, friendly decor. Doors that opened automatically, in case your arms were full. Large restrooms kept squeaky clean and in good repair. Changing table in the men’s room as well as in the women’s. (That feature was not the norm in the 2000s.)

We went to the trouble of not carrying some familiar rest-stop items. We didn’t sell candy cigarettes. (I recently learned the FDA outlawed candy cigarettes in 2009. We were ahead of our time.) We didn’t sell shredded jerky in a pouch or a dip can. (“Dip” is Southern for “snuff.”) We didn’t sell bubble gum cigars.

I made signs for the restrooms that said we were family friendly – meaning, we didn’t sell those things. And, yes, people read those signs. I heard more than one customer mention them to a traveling companion as they were leaving.

After all the Faith-Popcorn-future-trends reading, I wanted to target that underserved family demographic, rather than the usual “Bubba” avatar. Bubba was going to come to our store as long as we carried his brands and were on his usual travel route. But a woman or family or busload of retirees might go a little out of the way for large clean bathrooms and a welcoming feel.

So Much for the American Dream

But even that good-will marketing strategy wasn’t enough. It couldn’t make up for our lack of shrewdness. Our unwillingness to do anything the least bit sketchy, like underreport on sales tax returns. Our tendency to indulge employees. Our inability to negotiate a better deal with our fuel supplier.

All of this was on the store side of the building. There was also the train wreck experience on the fast food side. Another story for another day. 

Yes, I came away with a lot of stories. What I didn’t come away with was a lot of cash. My image of what it’s like to own and sell your own business had been shattered. To the outside world, we were living the American Dream. By the end, we escaped a nightmare with our tails between our legs.

On the plus side, we were free to move on. New adventures, and new lessons, lay just ahead. God had already started preparing me for the next story arc.

So, finally, I am left with the jarring gap between my personal interpretation of the original promise – that we would be wildly successful – and what actually unfolded.

I look back on that interpretation as an example of hearing what I wanted to hear. 

Lesson learned on that front.

Another lesson was that God has a hard line when it comes to respecting human agency. In opening and running the store, we had exercised free will with plenty of guidance, and without divine interference. Which meant we were also free to make mistakes and to suffer, which we did. 

There were lots of lessons learned in the store years. Things weren’t all bad. They never are. But the overall experience was decidedly unpleasant.

Often, as I was replenishing shelves or entering data into the office computer, I would find myself spontaneously sighing. Long after we finally sold, I realized I hadn’t sighed in months. 

The store we built is still serving customers in 2024.

The good things we can take credit for are humbling. If I take a hard look at the facts, I can see that we created 30 new jobs, which still exist today. We built community and relationships that are still thriving. We made a lot of money for our gasoline supplier, our bank, and the Small Business Administration.

And, we didn’t fail. We exited the venture with most of our farmland and a little bit of savings. 

And with faith that good things still lay ahead. 

I knew that in my bones. God had already begun to let me in on the new plan.

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