Thursday Thick and Thin and the Forty-Seven Mile Find

Hello, friends. The sun is just starting to dip behind the maples on Sycamore Street, and the little blue house is filled with the smell of cinnamon and beeswax. I’ve just finished pouring a fresh batch of 'Autumn Orchard' candles for an Etsy order that came in last night, and there is something so incredibly grounding about watching the wax turn from liquid to solid. It reminds me that growth—much like these candles—takes time to set. You can’t rush the cooling process, just like you can’t rush the person you’re becoming.

Today was a Miller’s Hardware day, and it was a busy one. Mr. Miller had a shipment of winterizing kits arrive early, so the shop was buzzing with neighbors prepping for the Iowa chill. Between balancing the ledgers and helping a young couple pick out weatherstripping, I found myself breathing in that familiar scent of fresh-cut sawdust. It’s a humble place to work, but there’s a quiet dignity in the math of it all. Seeing the numbers line up gives me a sense of control over our own little financial world, one entry at a time.

I made it home just in time to see Joanne across the way. She was out in her signature pink bathrobe, even though it was nearly noon, deadheading the very last of her petunias before the frost claims them. She waved a gloved hand at me, and I felt that familiar pang of gratitude for this neighborhood. It’s these small, repetitive rhythms—the shop, the neighbors, the chores—that build the foundation of a life. It’s not always glamorous, ladies, but it is ours.

Once I got the kids settled after school, I laced up my sneakers for my daily trek. Can you believe it? Today I hit the forty-seven mile mark in my training for the Cedar Falls Harvest 5K. When I started this journey, I wasn’t sure if my legs had this kind of distance in them. But as I hit the trail this afternoon, the crisp air filling my lungs, I realized that my body is so much stronger than the doubts I used to feed it. Every mile is a 'thank you' to myself for not giving up when the hills got steep.

There was a moment during the run, right around the three-mile point, where I caught my reflection in a shop window downtown. I didn't see the tired mom or the stressed bookkeeper; I saw an athlete. I saw a woman who is taking care of herself because she deserves to feel vibrant. Staying in shape isn't just about the Harvest 5K in October anymore—it’s about the self-worth that comes from keeping a promise to yourself. It makes me feel beautiful, not just for Mark, but for the woman I see in the mirror.

Speaking of Mark, he should be through the door in just a few minutes. He left at 5:30 this morning for the new site, and I know he’ll be exhausted. I’ve got a pot of chili simmering on the stove, and Biscuit is already pacing by the mudroom door, tail thumping against the wall because he knows the truck will be turning the corner soon. It’s our nine-year anniversary soon, and seeing the way he still looks at me when he walks in—dusty boots and all—makes all the long days worth it.

Emma and Noah are currently occupied in the living room, which is a rare moment of peace. Emma is sprawled on the rug, ignoring her math worksheets to draw elaborate horses with flowing manes, while Noah is stomping around in his velociraptor pajamas, staging a prehistoric battle with his plastic T-Rex. They are growing so fast, and sometimes I feel like I’m just trying to catch my breath, but then Noah looks up and calls me 'Momma,' and the world feels exactly the right size.

I’m planning to meet Megan at the bakery tomorrow morning for a quick coffee before I head back to the candles. She’s been such a rock for me, especially as we gear up for our Saturday pickleball matches. We talked on the phone briefly today about the 5K, and she’s already planning our post-race brunch. Having a best friend who cheers for your victories, no matter how small, is a luxury I never take for granted. She even gave me a new pen to go with the robin-egg-blue journal she bought me; it’s the little things, isn't it?

As I sit here writing this in my journal before the evening rush truly begins, I’m reflecting on how much has changed since June. The goals I set then are becoming my reality now. Whether it’s the candle business growing by a few orders or my running mileage creeping closer to my goal, the progress is real. It’s slow, and it’s steady, but it is moving forward. I hope you’re finding those small victories in your own lives today, too.

I need to go set the table now. The sun is almost gone, and I want to be ready to greet Mark when he walks in. There’s a certain magic in this hour—the transition from the work of the day to the rest of the night. It’s when I feel most at home in my own skin and in this little blue house. Tomorrow is another chance to lace up and push just a little bit further.

Keep chasing those milestones, friends. Whether you’re running miles or just trying to make it through the laundry pile, you are doing enough. You are enough. I’m going to tuck the kids in soon and maybe steal a few quiet moments with Mark once the house is still. I’ll check in with you all tomorrow after my shift at the hardware store.

I love you. — Lucy