Friday Footfalls and the Fragrance of a Fresh Finish

Hello, friends. I’m sitting here on the porch, the Iowa air finally losing just a touch of its humidity as the sun begins its slow descent toward the horizon. It is nearly six o’clock, and the house behind me is a whirlwind of activity. Mark just walked through the door a few minutes ago, smelling of cedar and sunshine, and Noah is currently doing laps around the coffee table in his favorite velociraptor pajamas, screeching at a volume only a four-year-old can achieve. Biscuit is, predictably, following him and hoping for a stray snack to fall from the sky.

Today felt like one of those transition days—the quiet space between the busy hum of Miller’s Hardware and the social energy of pickleball Saturdays with Megan. Since I don't go into the shop on Fridays, I dedicated my morning to the pavement. I hit the trail early, right after the kids were settled with their cereal, and I managed to clock four miles for my Cedar Falls Harvest 5K training. There was a moment at the two-mile mark where my lungs felt tight and the temptation to drop to a walk was so heavy, but I thought about the endurance we talk about here. I thought about the 9 years I’ve spent building a life with Mark and how the best things are rarely the easiest.

When I got back, sweaty and a bit shaky but incredibly proud, I saw Joanne out in her garden. She was in that signature pink bathrobe, looking remarkably peaceful as she deadheaded her petunias. She gave me a little wave with her garden shears, and it reminded me that there is a season for everything—a season to run, and a season to simply prune away what isn't serving us anymore. I think for a long time, I forgot that I was allowed to have seasons that were just for me, not just for being a mother or a bookkeeper.

I spent a good portion of the afternoon in the kitchen, which has officially been overtaken by 'Lucy’s Little Light.' I had a stack of Etsy orders to fulfill, and let me tell you, the scent of lavender and vanilla is a much better kitchen aroma than the lingering smell of morning toast. Pouring those candles feels like a form of meditation. As the hot wax settles into the glass, I find myself thinking about financial growth. It’s small, yes—a few extra dollars here and there—but it’s mine. There is a specific kind of self-worth that comes from creating something from scratch and seeing someone else find value in it.

Emma joined me at the table for a while, though she wasn't interested in candles today. She was deeply focused on her math worksheets, though knowing her, there are more sketches of horses in the margins than there are actual equations. I watched her for a moment, her tongue poking out in concentration, and I realized how much she mirrors the way I’ve been approaching my own goals lately. We are both just trying to get the lines right, even if we doodle a little along the way.

Speaking of getting things right, Mark and I had a quiet moment in the kitchen just now before I sat down to write to you all. He’s had such long days lately, leaving before the sun is even fully up at 5:30am, but he always makes a point to really look at me when he gets home. Not just a passing glance, but a look that says he sees the woman I’m becoming, not just the woman who manages the household schedule. It makes me feel desirable in a way that has nothing to do with fancy clothes and everything to do with being known.

I’ve been thinking a lot about the letter I wrote to my twenty-five-year-old self a couple of months ago. Back then, I think I would have been surprised by the simple beauty of this life in Cedar Falls. I would have wondered if I’d feel 'stuck,' but the truth is, I feel more in motion than I ever have. Whether it's the miles on my sneakers or the growth in my Etsy shop, I am learning that staying in shape is about the heart and the mind just as much as it is about the legs.

Tonight, we’re keeping it simple. Mark is taking over the kitchen to grill some burgers, and I might actually sneak in a few pages of my journal—the robin-egg-blue one Megan gave me—before we start the bedtime routine. Tomorrow is Saturday, which means pickleball and perhaps a stop at Sweet Magnolia to see what Megan has in the display case. I’m looking forward to the laughter and the movement.

Ladies, I hope you found a moment today to recognize your own strength. Whether you ran four miles or just managed to keep the peace during a dinosaur-themed tantrum, you are doing the work. You are building something beautiful, even in the mundane moments of a Friday afternoon. Don't forget to look in the mirror and see the person who is making it all happen.

The sun is dipping lower now, and I can hear the sizzle of the grill outside. It’s time for me to put the screen away and be present with my family. I am grateful for this space and for all of you who walk this path with me. I love you. — Lucy