Monday Milestones and the Midday Miles

Hello, sweet friends. I am sitting here at our kitchen table, the late afternoon sun spilling across my robin-egg-blue journal, feeling that good, heavy kind of tired that only comes from a day well-lived. Mark just pulled the truck into the driveway—right on time at 5:20—and I can hear Biscuit’s tail thumping against the front door already. There is something so grounding about the rhythm of this house on Sycamore Street, isn't there? It’s the steady beat that keeps me going when everything else feels like a whirlwind.

Today was one of those Mondays that reminded me why I started this journey toward self-worth and discipline in the first place. After that long, reflective Sunday call with Mom yesterday, I woke up feeling like I needed to put some action behind all those peaceful thoughts. I laced up my sneakers before the sun was fully up, watching the neighbor’s house across the way. Joanne was already out in her pink bathrobe, leaning over her petunias with such care. She waved, and I waved back, feeling that familiar spark of community that makes Cedar Falls feel like home.

I hit the pavement for my Harvest 5K training, and ladies, I am officially at 3.5 miles for my long-interval runs. It wasn’t fast, and my lungs felt the humidity, but I finished. While I was running, I thought a lot about how we often treat our bodies like machines we have to force into submission, rather than partners we get to nourish. Staying in shape isn't just about fitting into a certain pair of jeans for our upcoming 9-year anniversary; it’s about proving to myself that I can do hard things and come out the other side smiling.

The morning was a blur of dinosaur roars and crayon shavings. Noah was insistent on wearing his velociraptor pajamas even though they are arguably two sizes too small now, and Emma was busy 'improving' her math homework with intricate sketches of horses in the margins. It’s hard to stay frustrated with the mess when I see that spark of creativity in her. I packed them up, got them settled, and headed into Miller’s Hardware for a few hours. Checking the ledgers and smelling that familiar sawdust always centers me.

Mr. Miller was extra chatty today, telling me stories about the shop’s early days while I balanced the accounts. Working there part-time has been such a blessing for our family finances, but more than that, it has given me a sense of individual identity outside of being 'Mom.' There is a quiet power in knowing the math adds up because I made it add up. It’s a small victory, but those small victories are the bricks that build a life of confidence.

On my way home, I swung by Sweet Magnolia. Megan was pulled in three different directions with a large catering order, but she still managed to slip a sourdough roll into my bag and remind me about pickleball this Saturday. We talked for just a minute about the 'Lucy's Little Light' orders that came in over the weekend—three more Soy and Sandalwood jars are heading to New York tomorrow! Seeing those Etsy notifications pop up feels like a tiny validation of my own light, a reminder that the things I create with my hands have value in the world.

When I got back to the blue house, I took a few minutes for myself before the kids needed snacks and school prep. I looked at myself in the hallway mirror—not to check my hair or see if my makeup was smudged, but to really look. I feel more like 'me' lately than I have in years. I think there is a specific kind of desirability that comes from being comfortable in your own skin. When Mark looks at me lately, I don't look away. I let him see me. It’s a vulnerability that feels like a new kind of strength.

Dinner is in the oven now—just a simple roast with some carrots Mom sent over—and the sound of Mark playing 'raptor tag' with Noah in the backyard is filtering through the screen door. These moments are the real wealth, aren't they? It’s not about the bottom line of the ledger at Miller’s, though that helps. It’s about the fact that we are building something together, step by step, wick by wick, mile by mile.

I want to encourage you tonight, friends, to find one small thing you did today that was just for you. Maybe it was a walk, maybe it was finally balancing a checkbook, or maybe it was just choosing to believe you are worth the effort it takes to grow. We are all works in progress, and there is so much beauty in the middle of the mess. The sun is starting to dip low over the trees, and it's time to gather my family around the table.

I’m going to close my journal now and go be present with the people who matter most. I hope your evening is filled with a soft light and a sense of pride in how far you’ve come. Keep going, and don't forget to breathe in the peace of a day well-spent.

I love you. — Lucy