Thursday Tools and the Fifty-Four Mile Finding

Hello, friends. The sun is just beginning to dip behind the maples on Sycamore Street, casting that long, amber glow across the kitchen table where I’m sitting with my robin-egg-blue journal and a very sleepy Biscuit at my feet. It is just before six, and the house is momentarily quiet. Mark just pulled into the driveway—I can hear the familiar rumble of his truck—and the kids are currently negotiated into a temporary peace over a bucket of plastic dinosaurs in the living room. It’s been a full day, one of those days that feels like a sturdy bridge between who I was and who I’m becoming.

I spent my late morning and early afternoon at Miller’s Hardware. There’s something so grounding about that place, isn’t there? Even after all this time, the scent of fresh sawdust and motor oil feels like a hug. Mr. Miller was in a particularly chatty mood today, telling me stories about his grandkids while I balanced the ledgers. It’s funny how a part-time job that started as a way to help with the grocery budget has turned into a place where I feel so capable. Seeing those numbers align gives me a sense of control that ripples out into the rest of my life. It makes me realize that financial growth isn’t always about big windfalls; sometimes it’s just the steady, honest work of showing up.

After my shift ended at three, I hurried home to swap my work boots for my running shoes. The air in Cedar Falls has turned properly crisp now, the kind of cold that pinches your cheeks and makes you feel intensely alive. I set out for my daily miles, and ladies, I hit a new milestone today. I officially crossed the fifty-four-mile mark in my training for the Harvest 5K. When I started this journey, I wasn’t sure if my legs could carry me this far, let alone carry me with a sense of pride. But today, as I rounded the corner past Joanne’s house—she was out in her pink bathrobe, bless her, even though the petunias are long gone—I felt a strength in my stride that I didn’t have a month ago.

Running has become so much more than just staying in shape for me. It’s a dedicated space where I reclaim my body for myself. Between being 'Mom' to Emma and Noah and 'Honey' to Mark, it’s easy to feel like I’m being pulled in a dozen different directions. But on the pavement, I’m just Lucy. Every mile added to that total is a quiet rebellion against the idea that I should settle into being less than I am. It’s about self-worth, really. It’s about proving to the woman in the mirror that she is worth the effort, the sweat, and the time it takes to reach a goal.

Speaking of goals, I had a small victory with 'Lucy's Little Light' today too. Before I left for the shop this morning, I finished a batch of the vanilla bean and soy wax candles I was working on yesterday. I received three new orders on Etsy while I was at work! It’s still so surreal to think that people want something I made with my own two hands to be a part of their homes. Every time the notification pings on my phone, I feel a little flutter of excitement. It’s not just about the extra money—though that helps with the kids' activities—it’s about the validation of a creative spark I kept hidden for far too long.

When I got back from my run, I found Emma sitting at the table, her math worksheet completely covered in sketches of horses instead of subtractions. I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing. She has so much spirit, that girl. Noah was right beside her, insisting his velociraptor pajamas were 'stealth armor.' We spent an hour just being together, and I found myself looking at them and feeling so deeply grateful for this messy, beautiful life. It’s not always easy, and there are days when the laundry feels like a mountain I’ll never summit, but these small moments are the ones that stick.

I also managed to squeeze in a quick phone call with Megan today. She was busy at Sweet Magnolia, but she wanted to make sure we were still on for pickleball this Saturday. She’s been such a rock for me, always pushing me to keep going with the 5K training and reminding me to take care of myself. We talked a little bit about the upcoming anniversary—nine years with Mark. It feels like a lifetime and a heartbeat all at once. I’m planning something special, but for now, I’m just enjoying the steady rhythm of our partnership. Seeing him walk through the door after a long day at the construction site still makes my heart skip, and I think that’s something worth holding onto.

As I prepare to close this entry and get dinner on the table, I’m struck by how much can change when you start paying attention to the small victories. Whether it’s hitting fifty-four miles or finally getting the ledger to balance at the hardware store, these are the bricks we use to build a life of intention. I want you to know, whoever is reading this, that your small wins matter too. You are allowed to be proud of the progress no one else sees. You are allowed to take up space and chase the things that make your soul light up.

Mark is calling for me now, and I can hear Biscuit barking—probably hoping for a scrap of whatever I’m about to cook. It’s time to move from the quiet of the journal to the joyful chaos of the evening. I’m going to go be with my family, feeling a little bit stronger and a little bit more like myself than I did when the sun came up this morning. I hope you found a moment for yourself today, too. You deserve it, truly.

I love you. — Lucy