I scooched over into the pile of shoes on the floor, trying to take up as little room as possible as yet another customer came through the sliding glass door.

The owner of the store was bouncing from customer to customer, involved in three conversations at once and somehow not getting frazzled by it.

He circled back to me, and I expected him to apologize - not because he needed to, but because that's just what we do to overcompensate as small business owners, right?

Instead, he simply smiled and welcomed me to the store.

And I liked him even more for it.

In the bottom of last week's newsletter, I mentioned that I was getting the itch to play my violin again.

It's been sitting unused for almost 15 years due to a slipping peg. I'd tried to get it fixed to no avail back in high school and gave up by the time I was in college.

But I've been feeling the desire more and more to get back into it (with the zero spare time I have), so on a whim, I looked up violin repair shops near me on Friday.

I found a local one that had dozens of raving 5 star reviews and, instead of leaving it in an open tab on my phone for three months thinking "I should do that," fired off a quick email right then asking if they thought they'd be able to fix it.

They replied crazy quickly that I could bring it by that afternoon for them to look at, and so 15 minutes later I found myself pulling up in front of the shop, which the owner runs out of his house.

It was only marked by a little lawn sign, and then another sign by the front walk that directed you down the path to the back door.

But I opened the door and blinked as there were people and instruments EVERYWHERE.

It looked like a "real" music store, and the lack of a traditional storefront certainly did not seem to diminish their popularity as customers flowed in and out.

Shoes were piled up in the corner as customers and employees alike walked around in their socks.

It was the perfect blend of professionalism and "homey-ness" you could never pull off in a traditional music store.

And despite the chaos of multiple customers at once, the owner remained attentive, unrushed, and calmly confident.

He listened carefully as I explained the problem, and within 20 seconds of looking at the violin, knew exactly what the problem was and how to fix it.

He then seamlessly and confidently upsold me on new strings and replacing the bridge as well.

(Actually, I'm pretty sure he up"told" me - I'm not sure I had a choice in the matter. 😂)

It was the perfect mix of humble pride - there was not an ounce of a high-pressured or salesy environment, but you could tell he had pride in the quality of his work and an excitement of sharing his passion for stringed instruments with others.

And the unorthodox environment didn't seem to phase him one bit...

...or anyone else in the literally half dozen cars lining his driveway and spilling out onto the street.

As small businesses and ministries, we can spend so much time thinking we're not "good enough" because we're not like the big names in the Catholic space.

And without realizing it, those feelings can bleed into our marketing.

Our lack of confidence in ourselves inadvertently makes people doubt us too...or even worse, never even hear about us because we're too afraid to market because of imposter syndrome.

But what if this owner had let that mentality hold him back?

He could have said, "No one's going to think I'm legitimate if I don't have my own storefront in the city."

He could have bewailed the lack of foot traffic on the back country road.

But instead, he embraced it.

And what's more, he didn't apologize for it.

In fact, he had an air of pride - not in a bad, sinful way, but in a way of being proud of the good work being done.

The lack of being like all the other stores actually probably helped him to stand out, being able to focus instead of quality in his work, affordable prices, and incredibly personalized customer service.

The differences became part of the culture of the store and what set it apart - and likely what got people talking about it and recommending it to other parents looking to rent instruments.

And clearly it was working.

Less than 24 hours after emailing, I was back at the shop picking up my fixed violin.

(Almost 15 years for a job that took less than a day!)

When I thanked him profusely for the quick turnaround time, the owner beamed.

"We're the best at what we do," he said simply. It wasn't haughty pride - it was just a confident statement of fact.

The whole experience was different than what I was expecting, and probably different than what most first-timers would expect.

But instead of apologizing for that, he just leaned into it.

And he did it really well.

Jesus didn't apologize for not being the way people thought the Messiah should be.

So you don't need to apologize for being a solorpreneur. Or Catholic. Or whatever else makes you feel insecure or "just" a ___________.

In the words of St. Catherine of Siena, be who God made you to be, and you will set the world on fire.

And when you lean into that authenticity, even if it isn't polished, people will be excited to get involved.

For His greater glory,

Emily