When Your Dreams Get Rained On But Community Saves the Day

Construction on Gallery Row

I was feeling a bit discouraged on Tuesday.

The previous weekend here at Nooks, our bookshop, didn’t go as well as I had hoped. Numbers were down. The energy in our space felt flat. So I sat at our front window, feeling sorry for myself. I watched the foot traffic flow by on the other side of the street with folks that may have wandered into our little haven of a bookshop had the sidewalk on our side of the street been open.

As it is, the powers that be are marching relentlessly forward with building a behemoth of an apartment building on on our side of the block and clogging up the works for our sweet little Gallery Row, the name Lancaster has given to the 100 block of North Prince Street that Nooks and several other art galleries and restaurants call home. Once, not long ago, Lancastrians and visitors alike strolled along our sidewalks looking at the shop windows filled with beautiful art and books, the tantalizing air sweet and spicy with the scents wafting out from the pie shop, Latino restaurant, and French cafe just down from us.

But now?

It’s all incessant beeping from construction vehicles, engine exhaust clouding the air, jack-hammers rattling the windows, massive cranes hovering over like giant raptors. All of it signifying…progress.

I guess.

Sometimes, I’m weary of progress.

Last week on Shawn and I’s podcast I shared a story about a customer coming into the shop impassioned about AI. “Let me ask you a question,” he said point blank. “Are you using AI right now for your business?” When I answered, “Um, no, actually, we’re not,” he proceeded to tell me that AI had launched his multi-million dollar business to a new stratosphere and was going to make my business a success as well. It would streamline and strengthen our marketing, boost our sales, save us time and money. “Other bookstores that are using AI are gonna succeed and you aren’t going to make it,” he pronounced.

“Then order our tombstone,” I wanted to say.

But I didn’t.

Instead, I politely listened and asked open-ended questions, because I want to be that kind of person, the curious kind who’s always open to new ideas. But let’s be honest; sometimes new ideas just suck (sorry, Mom; I know you don’t like that word. I’ll get the soap.)

Right now, in our little world “Progress” and “New Ideas” mean tearing up beautiful city streets for pricey apartments that few of our locals can afford or asking mega, water-guzzling computers questions you could just ask your partner or your community and engage in dialogue with HUMANS rather than a machine that always, let’s be honest, cops a condescending attitude. I’d like to take a pass on progress and new ideas at the moment.

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Yes, Tuesday was a down day. A day when I didn’t really want to go into the shop because I knew with the construction and the stormy weather forecasted, it would be quiet. When Shawn’s around, I can look forward to his company for all or at least part of the day. He sits in the flowered chairs by the window and writes while I man the desk. We chat and write and read and greet customers. But Shawn was away on a work trip so I wouldn’t have his company.

As I anticipated, it was a slow day. Then a customer came in. She walked into the shop, offered a brief greeting, and then headed straight past me into one of our further nooks. “I know what I’m here for!” she called over her shoulder. What she was here for was a book we’d both read and loved by a Catholic priest that uses bad language and tells questionable stories. We stood at the checkout desk together talking about his book and his love of community. Then we got on the topic of our community and the 5K we’d both run downtown recently. It was just the kind of conversation and camaraderie that, when it happens in our shop, gives me a jolt of joy.

And then she went and said the very words I’d been craving to hear all day.

“I’ve been following your journey since you opened and I just wanted to say that what you’re doing is really important. It’s a good thing that you are here.”

One of the reasons I love community so much is because I’m only just now, 46 years into my life, realizing that it is among people being with people that God shows up in His most vivid and profound ways. Being “whole” people showing up in community with others embodies the Divine. We say the words that God would say. We do the things that God would do.

I thanked her for her words and for saying them when she did. I told her that I needed them. We exchanged farewells and she walked out the door. But for a long while after she left, I stood at our front counter, marveling at our exchange, how it coursed with power. With good, loving, joyful power.

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Yesterday, I arrived at the shop encouraged. I was still flying high from my conversation with the customer the day before. “This is good work,” I said as I walked through the shop, turning on the lights and arranging the books. “It is.”

I spent the morning writing a post that I would send out to all of you today. It was a newsletter with a broad stroked Mother’s Day theme in anticipation of the upcoming holiday. I didn’t love the first draft of it, but I loved writing it. I always love writing. I felt good. I felt hopeful. I felt energized.

Then I heard the sound of rain showers.

Which confused me since the sun was happily shining outside our front windows. And then I realized it was coming from inside the shop. Sure enough, when I walked into our children’s area, there was a waterfall cascading down the walls and edging out towards the middle of the room.

I started scrambling, grabbing books off the shelves and artwork from the walls, trying to get as much out of the way of the deluge as possible. I called both of our landlords over and over until one of them finally answered.

“The ceiling,” I shouted over the din, “it’s leaking! I mean, it’s just pouring in, right into the shop!”

“I’ll call the plumber and be right over,” he said and hung up.

I called Shawn, who was on his way home from the airport. He’d just flown in from a three day trip in Dallas. I started crying as soon as I heard his voice on the line. “The shop!” I shouted. “The ceiling is leaking! There’s water everywhere!”

He was calm and encouraging as always. “I’m on my way, babe. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

When we hung up, I stood and stared at what was unfolding around me. Water pouring from an ever-expanding gap in the ceiling. Rivers forming around the play table. One entire side of our middle grade section now a wet and warped collection of some of our favorite stories. The water kept coming. And there was not one damn thing I could do about it.

The aftermath

That’s when a peace just washed over me.

This is happening. I thought. This is happening. Don’t fight it. Just be present to it.

So that’s what I did. I calmly began moving books into our backroom to keep our inventory damage to a minimum. I greeted customers that came in and told them about what was happening. And I waited for help to come.

About 20 minutes later, it came. Our landlords, their plumber, their general contractor, their cleaning crew. They all descended and started helping clean up. Friends called and texted as soon as they heard about the leak. They offered their arms for carrying books to safety and food for dinner that night. Everyone was so so kind.

After the water stopped and the initial mess got cleaned up, Shawn and I left for the day. There was still work to do: soggy books to sort through and drying out to be done. But we knew we just needed to step away till the next morning when we’d have fresh eyes for it all.

I came home, kissed my babes who’d just walked in from school, curled up on the couch and fell asleep. Everything felt tiring and heavy. But I knew I couldn’t stay there forever, feeling the weight of this new task ahead of us. So I got up. I threw frisbee with the dog and let my eight-year-old teach me the dance steps she learned in music class. I ate a big bowl of cereal (is there a better comfort food?) and put on my pajamas and sat down to write this.

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I don’t know that I have a moral to this story. It’s just a story, I guess. About how hard days turn into good days. And then turn hard again. And then the good shines through once more. That’s life I guess. But what a gift if we don’t have to do it by ourselves. What an absolute grace to have people in our lives to speak kind, encouraging words, to offer helping hands, to come alongside us and start cleaning up the mess. I’ll never stop marveling at the miracle of community.

May each of you, dear friends, be blessed by its presence. And thank you for being a part of this community here at Nooks & Crannies. I’m grateful for you.

xoxo Maile

I’d love to hear from you, my friends. When has community come through for you and made your load lighter, turned the hard into good? Or are you still looking for community? Feel free to share down in the comments below!