Midweek Miles And The Magic Of Small Victories

Hello, friends. I’m sitting here at the kitchen table with a glass of iced tea, watching the late afternoon sun filter through the curtains of our little blue house. Mark just called to say he’s packing up the site and should be through the door by 5:20, and the kids are currently occupied with a very intense 'dinosaur stable' setup in the living room. Noah has his velociraptor pajamas on—even though it’s nearly eighty degrees out—and Emma is patiently drawing 'saddles' on her math homework again. It’s one of those quiet, domestic moments that makes my heart feel very full, if a bit tired.

Today was a Miller's Hardware day, and the shop was thick with that comforting smell of fresh-cut sawdust and motor oil. Mr. Miller was in a particularly chatty mood, which usually means I spend half my bookkeeping shift listening to stories about Cedar Falls in the seventies. But between the ledger entries, I found myself feeling remarkably capable. Looking at the numbers and organizing the accounts, I realized how much my confidence has grown. There was a time, not too long ago, when I felt like I was just playing at being an adult with a career. Today, I felt like a woman who knows exactly what she’s doing with her time and her talent.

Before I headed into the shop at eleven, I laced up my sneakers for my 5K training. I managed three miles today, which is a big milestone for me. The humidity was clinging to Sycamore Street like a wet blanket, and my legs felt heavy for the first ten minutes, but I pushed through. There’s something about that rhythmic slap of sneakers on pavement that clears out the cobwebs in my head. I’m not the fastest runner in the world, and I’m certainly not the skinniest woman on the trail, but I felt strong. I felt desirable. I felt like Lucy—not just 'Mom' or 'the candle lady'—but a woman taking care of her own body.

When I got home to change before work, Joanne was out in her usual pink bathrobe, deadheading her petunias. She waved a gloved hand at me and told me my 'glow' was catching. It made me laugh, but it also made me think about how we carry our self-worth. It isn’t just about the numbers on the scale or the balance in our Etsy account—though, I must say, the 'Lucy’s Little Light' orders have been steady enough that I'm starting to tuck a little extra away for our ninth anniversary trip. It’s about that quiet, internal shift when you start believing you deserve the life you’re building.

Speaking of candles, the kitchen currently smells like 'Cedar Peaks,' which is the new scent I’m testing for the fall collection. I spent an hour last night pouring wax while Mark told me about the framing issues they’re having at the new construction site. Even when he’s exhausted, he always asks how the business is going. It’s a small thing, but having a partner who sees your side hustle as a real endeavor—not just a hobby—is a form of intimacy I didn't fully appreciate when we first got married. We are growing together, even in the messy, wax-splattered moments.

I had a quick text exchange with Megan today while I was on my lunch break. She’s dreaming up a lavender-infused shortbread for the bakery, and we’re already plotting our strategy for pickleball this Saturday. She’s been such a rock for me. We talked a little bit about the pressure to 'have it all,' and how we both prefer 'having enough.' Financial growth is slow in a small town, but it’s steady. Those little victories—paying off a credit card, buying a new pair of high-quality running shoes, or seeing a positive review on Etsy—they add up to a much larger sense of freedom.

Biscuit is currently snoring at my feet, his golden fur coated in a fine layer of dust from his afternoon nap in the driveway. He doesn’t worry about 5K times or whether the bookkeeping is perfectly reconciled. He just knows he’s loved. I’m trying to take a page out of his book tonight. I’m trying to remember that even if I didn't get everything on my to-do list done, I showed up for my life today. I showed up for my kids, I showed up for Mr. Miller, and most importantly, I showed up for myself.

I have a phone call with Mom scheduled for Sunday, and I know she’ll ask if I’ve been eating enough greens and if Mark is working too hard. I’ll tell her we’re doing just fine. Better than fine, actually. We’re in the middle of the beautiful, mundane work of building a life. It isn't always glamorous, and some days the house smells more like dinosaur pajamas and dog hair than expensive candles, but it is ours. And that is everything.

I’m going to close up the laptop now and start on some pasta before the 'welcome home' chaos begins. I want to be present when Mark walks through that door. I want him to see a wife who is tired, yes, but also one who is proud of the woman she’s becoming. To all of you out there making your own small steps toward your goals—whether it’s a mile on the road or a dollar in the savings jar—keep going. You are worth the effort. You are deserving of the growth you’re working so hard for.

I love you. — Lucy