Thursday Tinctures and the Truth of the Grind

The air in Miller’s Hardware was especially thick with the scent of fresh-cut pine today, and honestly, friends, I didn't mind it one bit. There is something so grounding about that smell. It’s the smell of things being built, of houses being repaired, and of a community that still takes pride in doing things by hand. I spent my shift from eleven to three tucked away in the back office, reconciling the books while Mr. Miller chatted with a regular about the best way to stain an oak deck. Small-town commerce is a beautiful thing when you stop to look at it closely.

Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about the 'grind.' We hear that word so much, don't we? It usually sounds exhausting, like we’re being worn down. But today, as I balanced the accounts and watched the dust motes dancing in the afternoon sun, I realized that the grind is actually what polishes us. It’s the daily repetition—the numbers, the laundry, the thousand little 'Mommy, look!' moments—that slowly shapes us into the women we are meant to be. It’s not about the destination; it’s about the person you become while you’re traveling.

I managed to squeeze in a three-mile run right after I got home, before the school bus dropped Emma off. The Cedar Falls Harvest 5K is looming closer in October, and I can feel my endurance shifting. Those first two miles used to feel like a mountain, but today, my legs felt strong and capable. There is such a profound sense of self-worth that comes from realizing your body is more than just a vessel for everyone else’s needs. It’s my engine, and I’m finally learning how to fuel it and respect it properly.

Noah was waiting for me at the door with his favorite velociraptor pajamas already on, despite it being barely four in the afternoon. He was clutching a plastic Triceratops like it was a holy relic. Seeing his little face light up when I walked in—sweaty, red-faced, and breathless—is a reminder that they don't need a perfect version of me. They just need the version of me that shows up and tries. Emma followed close behind him, showing me her math worksheet which, as usual, had more pencil-sketched horses in the margins than actual solved equations. I’ll have to talk to her teacher about the focus, but I can’t help but admire her creative spirit.

Joanne was out deadheading her petunias when I went to let Biscuit into the backyard. She waved a gloved hand at me, her pink bathrobe fluttering in the breeze, and shouted over the fence that my 'Lucy's Little Light' candles smelled heavenly yesterday. I had been curing a batch of 'Cedar and Soy' in the kitchen with the windows open, and apparently, the scent carried. Hearing her say that made my heart swell. It’s a small side hustle, but seeing those Etsy orders turn into real profit is such a boost to our family’s 'fun fund.' It makes me feel like I’m contributing something uniquely mine.

Mark just walked through the door a few minutes ago, looking tired but handsome in his work boots. Being a construction foreman takes a lot out of him, and I always try to make sure those first ten minutes home are peaceful. I want him to see this little blue house on Sycamore Street as his sanctuary, not just another place with demands. We’re coming up on nine years of marriage this year, and I still find myself wanting to look nice for him, to be the woman he’s excited to come home to. It’s not about vanity; it’s about keeping that spark alive in the middle of the school runs and the hardware store ledgers.

Tonight, I’m planning to spend an hour in my robin-egg-blue journal. Megan gave it to me for a reason, and I need to honor that gift by being honest with myself on the page. We spend so much time looking at our bank accounts or our calorie counts, but how often do we audit our hearts? I want to make sure I’m growing in the ways that matter—patience, kindness, and a little bit of sass when the situation calls for it.

The 5K training is teaching me that I can do hard things if I just take them one step at a time. The same goes for the candles and the bookkeeping. It’s all just one step after another. If you’re feeling overwhelmed today, just focus on the next right thing. Wash one dish. Run one block. Pour one candle. The momentum will find you, I promise.

It’s nearly six o'clock now, and the house is starting to smell like the pot roast I’ve had simmering since noon. Mark is wrestling with Noah on the rug, Biscuit is barking at a squirrel through the sliding glass door, and Emma is lost in her world of horses. It’s messy, it’s loud, and it’s exactly where I’m supposed to be. I am learning that the 'good life' isn't something you wait for; it’s something you recognize in the middle of the noise.

I hope you’re finding your own brand of peace today, ladies. Don't be afraid of the slow build. Every day is a brick in the foundation of the life you’re creating. Keep going, and don't forget to take a deep breath and smell the sawdust—or the roses, whichever is closer.

I love you. — Lucy