Sunday Sprinklers And The Scent Of Citrus Hope

Hello, friends. I’m writing to you from the back porch while the sun begins its slow descent over the blue house on Sycamore Street. It’s just before six, and I can hear Mark inside helping Noah get those velociraptor pajamas on. The house smells faintly of lavender and beeswax, a lingering gift from my 'Lucy’s Little Light' pouring session this afternoon, and for the first time all day, the air feels like it might actually cool down.

Sundays always feel like a bridge, don’t they? We’re crossing over from the rest of the weekend into the hustle of the work week. Mom called right on schedule this morning while I was folding a mountain of Emma’s horse-themed t-shirts. She sounds good, full of news about her neighbor’s new porch, and she always has a way of reminding me that I’m doing a good job. Sometimes we just need to hear that from our mothers, even when we’re thirty-four and running our own households.

This morning, I laced up my sneakers before the heat became unbearable. I’m officially at the 3.5-mile mark for my Cedar Falls Harvest 5K training. It wasn’t a fast run—my legs felt a little heavy after yesterday’s pickleball match with Megan—but I finished it. There is a specific kind of self-worth that comes from keeping a promise you made to yourself in the mirror. I’m not just running to fit into my jeans; I’m running because I want to be the woman who doesn’t give up when the humidity hits 80 percent.

While I was cooling down in the front yard, I saw Joanne. She was out in her signature pink bathrobe, even though the mail wasn't due for hours, deadheading her petunias with the precision of a surgeon. She waved her shears at me and told me I looked 'determined.' I’ll take that over 'tired' any day of the week. It made me realize how much our neighbors see of our growth, even if we only exchange a few words over the fence.

Mark was home all day today, which is such a treat since his days as a construction foreman are usually so long. Watching him play chase with Biscuit in the backyard made my heart do that little flip it’s been doing for nine years. I think, as wives, we sometimes forget to look at our husbands as the men we fell in love with, rather than just the partners who help us manage the chaos. I made sure to tell him he looked handsome in that worn-out work shirt, and the way he smiled back made me feel seen in a way that had nothing to do with being a mother or a bookkeeper.

Speaking of bookkeeping, I spent an hour this afternoon updating the Etsy books. The 'Little Light' side hustle is growing, ladies. It’s slow, steady growth—the kind that feels sustainable. I’m not buying a mansion yet, but seeing those small digits go up in our savings account gives me a sense of financial agency that I didn’t have a year ago. It’s a quiet victory, one poured candle at a time, and I’m proud of myself for not letting the dream sit on a shelf.

Emma spent most of the afternoon at the kitchen table, and I noticed she’s started drawing little horses in the margins of her summer math packets again. I should probably tell her to focus on the numbers, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. There’s so much magic in her imagination, and I want to protect that. We sat together for a while, her drawing and me filling out my robin-egg-blue journal that Megan gave me. It was one of those mundane moments that feels heavy with importance.

Noah, on the other hand, spent his day creating a 'dinosaur sanctuary' under the dining room table. He informed me that Rexy was hungry, so we had a very serious picnic consisting of sliced apples and crackers. It’s exhausting, keeping up with a four-year-old’s world, but it’s also a reminder to stay present. The dishes can wait twenty minutes if there is a dinosaur that needs feeding.

As I look toward tomorrow, I’m thinking about the sawdust scent of Miller’s Hardware that awaits me on Tuesday. But for tonight, I am just Lucy. I am a runner, a candle-maker, a wife, and a woman who is learning that her value isn’t tied to her productivity, but to the love she pours into her life and the grace she gives herself when things get messy.

We are all a work in progress, aren’t we? Whether you’re training for a race, starting a business, or just trying to get the laundry put away before Monday morning rolls around, please know that you are doing enough. You are enough.

The sun is almost down now, and Mark is calling me in to say goodnight to the kids. Biscuit is already curled up on his rug, and the house is finally settling into that Sunday evening hush. I hope your heart is full and your week ahead is kind to you.

I love you. — Lucy