Sunday Soul and the Rhythm of a Refreshed Spirit

Hello, friends. I hope your Sunday has been as gentle as the light currently filtering through my kitchen window. It is just before 6:00 pm, and the house has that specific Sunday evening hum—the sound of Mark wrestling with Noah in the living room (I can hear the 'rawr' of a velociraptor from here) and Emma quietly focused on her latest masterpiece at the dining table. It is a time for deep breaths before the Monday morning rush begins all over again.

Today started with a long, rambling phone call from my mom, Diane. She calls every Sunday, and usually, it’s a quick check-in about the weather or what we’re having for dinner. But today, we talked for nearly an hour. She reminded me that I was about Emma’s age when I first started showing that stubborn streak she sees in me now. We laughed about it, but it actually made me feel a quiet sense of pride. That stubbornness is what is getting me through my 5K training, and it is what keeps my little Etsy shop, Lucy’s Little Light, glowing even when the orders are slow.

Speaking of training, I hit the pavement for a solid four miles this afternoon. The Cedar Falls Harvest 5K is creeping closer, and I can feel my endurance shifting. I used to view exercise as a chore, a way to shrink myself, but lately, it feels like I am building a house for my spirit to live in. As I ran past Joanne’s place, I saw her in that familiar pink bathrobe, meticulously deadheading her petunias. She gave me a little wave, and for the first time, I didn't feel winded when I waved back. I felt strong, capable, and very much alive in my own skin.

There is something about the physical act of moving that clears the cobwebs out of my mind regarding our finances and my self-worth. When I started the bookkeeping at Miller’s Hardware, I felt like I was just filling a seat. But now, when I see the numbers align, I realize I’m contributing something vital. It isn't just about the extra cushion for the kids’ college funds; it’s about the realization that I have a sharp mind for more than just grocery lists. I am growing, ladies, in ways that don't always show up on a scale or a bank statement.

After my run, I spent some time in the garage—my unofficial candle studio. I had a few orders for the 'Cedar & Citrus' blend to get out, and the scent always reminds me of the hardware store, but with a softer, sweeter edge. Pouring the wax is my meditation. Watching the liquid turn opaque as it cools feels like watching my own life settle into a new, beautiful shape. I’m learning to value my time and the things I create with my own two hands, and that is a victory that feels much bigger than a few dollars on Etsy.

Mark came out to check on me while I was labeling the jars. He’s been working such long days at the construction site lately, leaving before the sun is even up, but he always manages to find a moment to see me. Truly see me. He didn't say much—he’s never been a man of many words—but he tucked a stray hair behind my ear and told me the garage smelled like home. In that small, mundane moment, I felt a rush of desirability that has nothing to do with fancy clothes and everything to do with being known and loved in the middle of the mess.

Biscuit, of course, was never far from my heels. He’s been a bit of a shadow today, perhaps sensing the shift in the energy as the weekend winds down. He’s currently sprawled across my feet as I write this, a warm, golden weight that reminds me to stay present. We spend so much time looking toward the next milestone—the next mile, the next anniversary, the next big sale—that we forget to appreciate the simple rhythm of a dog’s breathing or the way the dust motes dance in the late afternoon sun.

Megan stopped by for a few minutes after she closed up Sweet Magnolia. She brought over a lemon tart that had a slightly cracked crust, which she deemed 'unsellable' but I knew was just an excuse to check in. We talked briefly about our Pickleball match yesterday and how my backhand is finally improving. Having a friend who cheers for your smallest wins is a grace I don't take for granted. We’re planning a celebratory dinner after the 5K in October, and just having that on the calendar makes the hard miles feel easier.

As I look at my robin-egg-blue journal, the gift Megan gave me that started this whole habit of reflection, I realize how much has changed since June. I am more patient with myself. I am kinder to the woman I see in the mirror. I am learning that personal growth isn't a straight line upward; it’s more like a trail run—there are hills, there are roots to trip over, but the view from the top is always worth the climb.

Tonight, dinner is simple. We’re having leftovers and maybe a bit of that lemon tart if the kids haven't discovered it yet. I want to spend the evening just being Lucy—not just a mom, or a bookkeeper, or a candle maker, but the woman who is finally finding her stride in the quiet streets of Cedar Falls. I want to hold onto this feeling of being enough, exactly as I am, before the alarm goes off at 5:00 am to start it all over again.

I hope you find a moment tonight to recognize your own strength, friends. Whether it’s in the work you do, the families you nurture, or the quiet promises you keep to yourself, you are doing better than you think. There is so much beauty in the steady, daily work of becoming who we were meant to be. I am grateful to have you walking—or running—alongside me on this journey.

The sun is almost down now, and I can hear Mark calling for help with bath time. Duty calls, but my heart is full. I love you. — Lucy