Saturday Steps and the Scent of Slow Success

Hello, friends. It is just past 5:30 PM, and the sun is casting those long, golden Iowa shadows across the blue siding of our little house on Sycamore Street. Mark walked through the door about ten minutes ago, smelling like cedar and hard work, and he is currently in the living room being ‘hunted’ by a very fierce four-year-old in velociraptor pajamas. Noah’s growls are echoing through the hallway, and honestly, there is no sound I love more than the house coming alive when Daddy gets home.

Today was one of those Saturdays that felt like a deep breath. I started the morning early, laced up my sneakers, and met Megan at the park for our weekly pickleball game. Ladies, I have to tell you, my 5K training is paying off in ways I didn't expect. After that three-mile run yesterday, I thought my legs would be heavy, but I felt light on the court. There is something so empowering about feeling your body respond when you ask it to move. I’m not just training for the Cedar Falls Harvest 5K in October; I’m training to feel at home in my own skin again.

Megan was in high spirits, despite the early hour. She brought a bag of day-old croissants from Sweet Magnolia for us to share afterward, and we sat on the bench, sweating and laughing about our clumsy backhands. We talked a lot about growth—both the kind you can see in a bank account and the kind you feel in your spirit. She’s been such a pillar for me as I navigate this side hustle journey, always reminding me that 'slow and steady' isn't just a cliché; it’s a strategy.

When I got home, I spent a few hours in my 'candle corner.' After the excitement of those ten orders earlier this week, I had a lot of pouring to do. The kitchen currently smells like 'Cedar Falls Twilight'—a blend of sandalwood and vanilla that I’ve been perfecting. There is a meditative quality to hand-pouring wax. You have to be patient. If you rush the cooling process, the surface cracks. If you don't center the wick, it won't burn right. It’s a lot like marriage, isn't it? You have to tend to the center, or the whole thing loses its light.

Speaking of marriage, Mark and I are coming up on nine years next month. Nine years of muddy boots by the door and choosing each other every single morning. While I was pouring, I found myself thinking about how we’ve grown financially since the early days. Back when we first moved to this house, I used to check the balance at the ATM with my eyes half-closed, praying there was enough for groceries. Today, I took a moment to look at the 'Lucy’s Little Light' ledger. It’s not a fortune yet, but it’s ours. It’s the fruit of those hours spent at Miller’s Hardware and the late nights over the stove.

Joanne, my wonderful neighbor, popped over while I was labeling the new jars. She was still in her signature pink bathrobe, having spent the morning deadheading her petunias. She brought over a small plate of zucchini bread and told me she saw me running past her window yesterday. She said, 'Lucy, you look like you’re chasing something important.' I didn't tell her I was mostly just chasing my own breath, but it made me stand a little taller. It’s funny how a few kind words from a retired teacher can make you feel like a star athlete.

Emma has been quiet today, which usually means she’s up to something creative. I found her under the dining table with her horse sketches. She had actually taken one of my old Etsy shipping boxes and turned it into a stable. Seeing her little hands work with such focus reminds me that our kids are always watching how we spend our time. I want her to see her mom building something of her own, one candle and one mile at a time.

I took Biscuit for a short walk just as the wind started to pick up. The air is definitely turning toward autumn, and it makes me realize how close October is. My mileage is steady, and my heart feels strong. I’ve realized that my self-worth isn't tied to the number of orders I ship or the time on my stopwatch, but there is a certain dignity in the discipline. There is a quiet beauty in being a woman who keeps her promises to herself.

I’m about to start dinner—just something simple tonight, maybe spaghetti since the kids will actually eat it without a fuss. I want to clear the table and have everything settled before the sun goes down. There’s a robin-egg-blue journal sitting on my nightstand, a gift from Megan, and I’m looking forward to writing down a few more private gratitudes before I close my eyes.

I hope you all found a moment of peace today, whether it was in a game of pickleball, a walk through your neighborhood, or just a quiet cup of coffee before the house woke up. You are stronger than you think, and your small victories matter more than you know. I am so glad we are on this journey together.

Mark just called out from the other room to ask if I've seen his measuring tape—back to reality! I love you. — Lucy