Camper Confessions: Finding Faith at the Fair

The Journey of a Small Business Owner: Counting Blessings Amidst Struggles

Running a small business is often romanticized as the ultimate freedom—being your own boss, setting your own hours, and building something from nothing. What's rarely discussed, however, is the grueling reality that entrepreneurs face daily, especially those in seasonal, event-based businesses like mine. This week, I found myself at the Skowhegan State Fair, recording from my wife's new camper instead of the school bus I'd originally planned to sleep in, and the experience has been nothing short of a roller coaster of emotions, challenges, and unexpected blessings.

The logistics of getting to this fair alone required an entire village of support. My friend Toby drove an hour to my house, hooked up our camper, drove two hours to the fair, helped me set up, and then drove two hours back home—all without me even asking. Meanwhile, Chris and Noah from the garage picked up our family vehicle to work on it while I was away, and my wife arranged childcare for our 11-month-old daughter with friends stepping in to help. These acts of generosity weren't requested; they were offered freely by people who care about my success and wellbeing. This is the first layer of blessings I've been counting.

The fair itself has been challenging in ways I hadn't anticipated. Set up in a dusty location with temperatures soaring into the mid-90s, I spent hours building my vendor display in sweltering heat only to go five hours without a single sale on opening day. Each subsequent day brought similar disappointments—a Friday that should have been bustling remained quiet, a Saturday that fell short of even Friday's meager numbers, and a Sunday so slow that the fair closed early. After ten hours of work on Monday, I made just $120 total from four sales. These numbers aren't merely disappointing; they're devastating when considering the financial obligations looming on the horizon—restocking inventory for upcoming fairs, paying entry fees, mortgage payments, and repaying borrowed money.

This experience has offered a stark contrast in human character that I wasn't expecting to witness. While adults across America are apparently buying pacifiers to calm their work anxiety (yes, this is a real news story I heard), I met an 18-year-old named Isaiah who works from 1 AM to 9 AM at a dairy farm, then volunteers his time at my booth. When a young man with a severe cut came stumbling through the fairgrounds, Isaiah immediately put his EMT training to use, providing crucial first aid before the actual first responders arrived. The professionalism and maturity he demonstrated put the actual EMT who eventually showed up to shame, as they spent more time lecturing than helping.

The financial reality of being a small business owner at fairs like these is something few people truly understand. Each decision to attend an event like this requires significant upfront investment—booth fees, inventory, travel expenses, accommodations—with absolutely no guarantee of return. When sales fall dramatically short of expectations, the mental gymnastics required to stay positive and keep moving forward are extraordinarily challenging. You're constantly calculating: How much do I need to make tomorrow to order the inventory I need for the next fair? Will I have enough to pay my mortgage? What bills can wait if necessary?

What keeps me going in these moments of doubt and struggle is something I've been hesitant to discuss too openly on my podcast: faith. In my darkest moment of this fair, questioning everything about my business decisions, a loan offer came through at the exact moment I needed a sign to keep going. The timing wasn't coincidental to me—it was divine intervention, a reminder that even when I feel most alone in my struggle, I'm not.

Small business ownership isn't just about selling products; it's a daily exercise in resilience, faith, and gratitude. Despite the challenges of this fair, I've already decided to return next year because I see the potential. That's the essence of entrepreneurship—the ability to see possibility where others might only see failure, and the courage to keep going when every logical voice says to quit.