Friday Flourish and the Finances of a Full Life

Hello, sweet friends. I am sitting here at my kitchen table, the afternoon sun stretching across the linoleum, and for the first time all week, the house is actually quiet. Mark just pulled the truck into the driveway—he’s home a few minutes early today—and I can hear him outside greeting Biscuit. That familiar sound of the golden retriever’s tail thumping against the porch siding is like a little metronome for my heart. It’s been a long week, but a good one, and I wanted to check in with you all before the evening chaos of dinner and bath time begins.

Today was one of those 'in-between' days. I didn’t have a shift at Miller’s Hardware, so I traded the smell of sawdust for the scent of 'Autumn Harvest' soy wax. I spent the morning in my workshop—which is really just a corner of the laundry room, let’s be honest—pouring a fresh batch of candles for the Etsy shop. After the excitement of those ten orders earlier this week, my inventory was looking a little thin. There is something so grounding about the physical act of pouring wax. It requires a steady hand and a lot of patience, much like everything else I’m trying to build right now.

While the candles were setting, I took a look at our family budget. You know, ladies, talking about money can feel so heavy sometimes, but lately, it’s felt like a victory. Seeing that small but steady stream of income from Lucy’s Little Light go directly into our 'Harvest 5K' savings jar makes me feel so proud. It’s not just about the dollars; it’s about the proof that my ideas have value. I used to think of myself just as the person who managed Mark’s hard-earned construction checks, but now I’m a contributor in my own right. That shift in self-worth is worth more than the candles themselves.

Speaking of the 5K, I laced up my sneakers around noon. I’ll admit, my legs were feeling the weight of yesterday’s run. I did a solid three miles today, looping past the bakery where Megan was waving through the window, covered in flour. The humidity in Cedar Falls has finally broken, and that crisp September air felt like a gift. I’m not the fastest runner on Sycamore Street, but I am consistent. Every mile is a reminder that my body is capable of change, even at thirty-four, and that taking care of myself isn't selfish—it's necessary.

When I got back, I found Joanne next door in her usual pink bathrobe, though she had added a cardigan today because of the breeze. She was out there deadheading her petunias with such focus. We chatted over the fence for a minute about Emma’s latest horse obsession. Apparently, Emma has started drawing stallions on the back of Joanne’s mail when I’m not looking! It made me laugh, but it also reminded me how lucky we are to be rooted in a community where people actually see our children and care about their little quirks.

Noah is currently napping, probably dreaming of Triceratops, and I know that once he wakes up, the peace will vanish. He’s been wearing those velociraptor pajamas for three days straight now, and I’ve decided not to fight that battle. Some things are just more important than fashion consistency, don't you think? Picking our battles is a huge part of staying sane in this season of motherhood. It’s the same in marriage. Mark and I are coming up on nine years soon, and I’m learning that the 'glow' isn’t something that just stays lit on its own—you have to tend to it, just like my wicks.

I took a long look in the mirror after my shower today. Sometimes I still see the twenty-five-year-old girl who was so unsure of her place in the world. But then I see the lines around my eyes from laughing at Mark’s jokes and the strength in my shoulders from carrying groceries and kids and candle crates. I feel desirable not because I look like a magazine cover, but because I am a woman who is purposeful. I am a woman who runs, who creates, and who loves fiercely. There is a deep, quiet beauty in that realization.

Tonight, I’m planning a simple dinner—maybe just some pasta and a salad—before we head into the weekend. Saturday means pickleball with Megan, and I’m hoping my backhand is a little sharper than it was last week. I also need to call my mom; Diane left a message earlier asking if I wanted some cuttings from her hostas, and I know she’s looking forward to our Sunday chat. It’s these small, repetitive rhythms that make life feel sturdy, isn't it?

Before I close my robin-egg-blue journal for the night, I want to remind you that your growth matters, even if it feels slow. Whether you are training for a race, starting a business, or just trying to get the laundry folded, you are doing a great job. We are all just pouring our light into the world, one day at a time. Mark is calling for me now—Biscuit must have found a tennis ball. Time to go back to being Mom and Wife, my two favorite titles.

I hope you all have a wonderful Friday evening. Take a moment to breathe in the cool air and acknowledge how much you’ve accomplished this week. You are stronger than you realize, and you are certainly not alone in this dance of life. I’ll be back here tomorrow to tell you how the pickleball match went. Until then, keep shining your own little light.

I love you. — Lucy