Sunday Stretches and the Sunday Sauce

Hello, friends. I’m sitting here at the kitchen table, the late afternoon sun casting long, golden shadows across the linoleum, and the house is finally quiet for a moment. Mark just took Emma and Noah out to the backyard to throw the frisbee for Biscuit, and I can hear their laughter through the screen door. It’s that sweet, slightly bittersweet Sunday lull where the weekend is winding down and the busy gears of Monday are already starting to hum in the back of my mind.

Today was one of those slow, restorative days that I really needed after our pickleball match yesterday. Megan and I played three rounds, and let me tell you, my calves were feeling every single serve this morning. I woke up a bit stiff, but instead of reaching for the coffee immediately, I pulled out my robin-egg-blue journal and sat on the porch. Joanne was already out, of course, her pink bathrobe a bright pop of color against her petunias. She gave me a little wave, and for a second, I felt such a deep sense of belonging here in our little blue house on Sycamore Street.

I managed to get my long run in before the heat really peaked. I’m officially up to four miles now for my Cedar Falls Harvest 5K training, and ladies, I won’t lie—mile three was a struggle. My lungs felt tight and my mind started doing that thing where it whispers that I’m too old or too busy to be an 'athlete.' But then I thought about what I’ve been telling you all week about the finances of the heart and showing up for yourself. I pushed through, and the shower afterward felt like a victory lap.

While the kids were napping—or in Emma’s case, supposedly reading but actually drawing elaborate horse stables on the back of her summer math packets—I spent some time in the kitchen working on a new batch of 'Lucy’s Little Light' candles. I’m experimenting with a 'Harvest Hearth' scent for the autumn market. The house smells like cinnamon and dried orange peel right now, which is a lovely contrast to the usual scent of sawdust that I bring home from Miller’s Hardware on my workdays.

Mark came in while I was labeling the jars, smelling like fresh cut grass and sunshine. He leaned against the counter and just watched me work for a minute. After nine years of marriage, sometimes the most romantic thing isn't a grand gesture; it’s the way he looks at me when I’m covered in soy wax and sweat from a run, making me feel like the most desirable woman in Iowa. He mentioned how proud he is of the way the Etsy shop is growing, and that little bit of validation felt like a warm hug.

My mom, Diane, called right on schedule at 4:00. We talked about the kids and she reminded me to check the oil in the minivan. She’s forty minutes away, but sometimes it feels like she’s right there in the kitchen with me. She has this way of sensing when I’m pushing myself too hard. She told me that self-worth isn’t measured by how many candles I sell or how fast I run that 5K, but by the peace I keep in my own soul. I think she’s right, though it’s a lesson I have to relearn every single Sunday.

We’re keeping dinner simple tonight—just a big pot of Sunday sauce that’s been simmering since noon. Noah is currently obsessed with his velociraptor pajamas, and he’s informed me that dinosaurs don’t eat pasta unless it’s shaped like 'prehistoric trees,' so I’ll be getting creative with the broccoli. It’s these tiny, mundane challenges that make up the bulk of my days, and honestly? I wouldn’t trade them for anything.

I’ve been thinking a lot about the 'slow build' we discussed earlier this week. Growth isn't always a vertical climb; sometimes it’s horizontal, like roots spreading out to make sure the tree doesn't fall over when the wind blows. Whether it’s saving a little extra from my bookkeeping shifts at Miller’s or finally hitting that fourth mile on the pavement, these small victories are the stones that build a life.

As I look at my reflection in the darkened window, I see a woman who is tired, yes, but also strong and loved. I hope you’re finding those moments of strength in your own rhythm today, too. Whether you’re folding laundry, training for a race, or just trying to get through the day, know that you are doing enough. You are enough.

The boys are coming back inside now, and I can hear Biscuit’s paws clicking on the hardwood. It’s time to turn off the computer, set the table, and be present for the last few hours of the weekend. I want to savor this feeling of being exactly where I am supposed to be.

Take care of yourselves, ladies. Make sure you get to bed at a decent hour—we have a whole new week of possibilities starting tomorrow, and we need our rest to meet them head-on.

I love you. — Lucy