Saturday Serves and the Sweet Scent of Progress

The morning light was just beginning to filter through the sycamore trees when I laced up my sneakers today. There is something about a Saturday morning in Cedar Falls that feels like the world is taking one collective, deep breath before the weekend rush begins. Mark was already gone, of course, headed to the site before the sun was even fully up, and the house was that rare kind of quiet that only happens when the kids are still deeply tucked into their dreams—Noah probably curled around a plastic triceratops and Emma dreaming of horses.

I met Megan at the park for our usual Saturday pickleball match. Ladies, I have to tell you, my backhand is finally starting to cooperate! We played hard for an hour, the kind of activity that makes you feel every bit of thirty-four in the best possible way. Between volleys, Megan was telling me about a new lemon-lavender scone she’s testing at Sweet Magnolia, and I couldn't help but feel a surge of pride for her. Watching your best friend build something from nothing is a special kind of fuel for your own fire.

After our match, I decided to squeeze in two of my training miles for the Harvest 5K. I’m up to three and a half miles now without needing a walking break, and as I ran past Joanne’s house, I saw her out in that signature pink bathrobe, already tending to her petunias. She gave me a little wave with her garden shears, and it reminded me that consistency isn't always about grand gestures. Sometimes it’s just about deadheading the flowers or putting one foot in front of the other until you hit the three-mile mark.

I came home to a house that was very much awake. Biscuit met me at the door with a wagging tail and a stray sock in his mouth—a classic golden retriever welcome. The kids were mid-cereal, and the kitchen table was already covered in Emma’s latest 'masterpieces.' She’s moved on from drawing horses on her math worksheets to drawing them on the backs of old candle labels I’d left out. I didn't even have the heart to be annoyed; her little artist’s heart is just so full, and seeing her creativity bloom makes every stressful moment feel worth it.

I spent most of the early afternoon in my workspace—the kitchen counter, if we’re being honest—pouring a new batch of 'Cedar Morning' candles for a custom Etsy order. As the soy wax melted, I found myself thinking about our talk yesterday regarding the finances of the heart. It’s not just about the extra cushion the candle sales provide for the kids’ savings accounts, though that’s a huge relief. It’s about the self-worth that comes from creating something with your own two hands and seeing someone else find value in it.

There was a time, not so long ago, when I felt like I was disappearing into the roles of 'mom' and 'bookkeeper' and 'wife.' Don’t get me wrong, I love those titles. But finding 'Lucy' again—the Lucy who runs, the Lucy who pours candles, the Lucy who can hold her own on a pickleball court—has changed the way I look at Mark when he walks through the door at 5:20. When I feel strong and capable in my own right, it changes the dynamic of our marriage. I’m not just waiting for him to fill my cup; I’m coming to the table with a cup that’s already half-full.

I took a break from the candles to check on the budget. We are slowly, steadily chipping away at that credit card balance from the new water heater, and seeing the numbers go down feels just as satisfying as seeing my mile time improve. It’s all connected, isn't it? The physical health, the financial health, and the health of our spirits. We’re building a life that feels sturdy, even if the progress feels slow some days.

Mark just pulled into the driveway a few minutes early, and I can hear the kids scrambling to be the first one to reach him. He’ll be dusty from the construction site, smelling like sweat and outdoor work, and I’m looking forward to a quiet evening together. We’re planning to grill some chicken and maybe let the kids stay up a little late for a movie in the living room. It’s the simple rhythm of a life well-lived, and I’m so grateful I get to share it with all of you.

As I close my robin-egg-blue journal for the evening, I want to remind you that your small victories matter. Whether it’s drinking enough water, hitting a new personal best on a run, or finally balancing that checkbook, you are doing the work. You are growing in the margins, and that growth is beautiful. I’m heading off to start dinner now and soak in these last few hours of daylight with my favorite people.

I love you. — Lucy