Friday Flames and the Finances of the Finer Things

Hello, friends. The little blue house on Sycamore Street is finally quiet, or as quiet as it ever gets with an aging golden retriever dreaming loudly on the rug. Mark just pulled the truck into the driveway—it’s 5:22pm, right on time—and I can hear Emma showing him a math worksheet that looks more like a gallery of horse sketches than a set of long division problems. It is the end of another week, and my heart is feeling as full as my kitchen island is cluttered.

Today wasn't a hardware store day, which usually means I dive headfirst into 'Lucy’s Little Light.' I spent most of the morning in my apron, the scent of sandalwood and vanilla clinging to my hair. I had six orders to fulfill for the Etsy shop, and there is something so deeply grounding about the rhythm of it. Watching the soy wax melt down and then carefully adding the fragrance oils feels like a metaphor for our own lives, doesn't it? We have to go through a bit of heat to really find our scent and let our light shine.

While the jars were cooling, I sat down with my robin-egg-blue journal that Megan gave me. I’ve been tracking the 'candle fund' separately from our household grocery budget lately. It’s a small thing, maybe even a tiny thing in the grand scheme of a mortgage and construction foreman’s salary, but seeing those numbers grow under my own steam does wonders for my sense of worth. It isn't just about the money; it’s about the realization that I am contributing something of my own to our future. It’s a slow growth, but slow doesn't mean it isn't moving.

Building that financial independence, even in small increments, changes how I carry myself. I felt it today when I laced up my sneakers for a quick training run. I’m up to 3.2 miles now for the Harvest 5K prep, and while my lungs were burning a bit in the Iowa humidity, I didn't stop. I thought about how Mark looked at me this morning before he left at 5:30. He didn't say much—he’s never been a man of many words—but he tucked a stray hair behind my ear and told me I looked strong. Ladies, as we approach nine years of marriage, I’m realizing that feeling desirable starts with how I see my own strength, not just how he sees it.

Noah spent the afternoon 'guarding' the cooling candles with his favorite plastic T-Rex. He's still in those velociraptor pajamas even though it’s nearly dinner time, and I’ve decided not to fight that battle today. There is so much pressure on us to have the perfect house and the perfectly dressed children, but sometimes the victory is just in the peace of a Friday afternoon where everyone is safe and happy. Joanne walked by earlier while I was taking the trash out; she was in her signature pink bathrobe, waving a pair of garden shears at her petunias. She shouted over that I was 'looking lean,' and I’ll admit, I did an extra lap around the block just because of that.

I also had a quick chat with Megan on the phone while she was setting up the weekend displays at Sweet Magnolia. We’re still on for pickleball tomorrow morning. I told her I’m nervous about my backhand, and she reminded me that we aren't playing for the pros; we’re playing for the sweat and the laughs. It’s so important to have those people in your corner who remind you that your value isn't tied to your performance, but to your presence.

I’ve been thinking a lot about the 'timber of tomorrow' I wrote about yesterday. If our lives are built on the foundations we lay today, then today I laid a foundation of patience and self-investment. I spent a little extra time on my skincare routine this afternoon, and I actually took the time to brew a cup of loose-leaf tea instead of drinking the cold dregs of this morning's coffee. Small victories, right? We are worthy of the 'finer things,' even when those things are just ten minutes of silence and a clean face.

The sun is starting to dip, casting long shadows across the street. I can smell the sawdust on Mark’s clothes from here as he walks through the door, and Biscuit is doing her usual 'welcome home' wiggle. It’s time for me to close the laptop, put away the bookkeeping for the day, and just be Lucy—wife, mother, and candle-maker. I am learning that I don't have to be everything to everyone all at once. I just have to be real.

I hope you’re finding your own little lights today, whether that’s in a finished project, a long run, or just a quiet moment before the chaos of dinner starts. Remember that you are a work in progress, and that progress is beautiful. Every mile run and every candle poured is a testament to the woman you are becoming. Take a breath, look in the mirror, and be kind to the woman looking back at you.

I love you. — Lucy