Wednesday Wicks and the Fifty-Three Mile Mark

Hello friends. I am sitting here at the kitchen table in our little blue house, the clock on the wall ticking toward six, and for the first time all day, the air is perfectly still. Mark just pulled into the driveway—I can hear the heavy rumble of his truck—and in just a few minutes, the quiet will be replaced by the beautiful, chaotic storm of dinner and bedtime stories. But for right now, it is just me, a cooling pot of wax, and a heart that feels remarkably full.

Today was one of those 'in-between' days. I didn’t have a shift at Miller’s Hardware, so the smell of sawdust was replaced by the sweet, comforting scent of vanilla bean and cedarwood. I spent the better part of the morning pouring a new batch of 'Lucy’s Little Light' candles for an Etsy order that came in last night. There is something so meditative about the process—the way the solid flakes melt into a clear, golden liquid, and the steady hand it takes to center the wicks. It reminds me that growth, whether it is a business or a person, requires a lot of heat and a lot of patience.

While the candles were setting, I laced up my sneakers for my daily run. The Cedar Falls air was crisp today, the kind of cold that bites at your cheeks but makes you feel intensely alive. I hit my milestone for the day, bringing my total training distance to fifty-three miles. When I started training for the Harvest 5K, I wasn’t sure I had it in me to be consistent. I’ve always been good at starting things, but finishing? That’s where I used to falter. But seeing that number climb, one mile at a time, makes me realize I am stronger than the version of myself I used to believe in.

As I was cooling down on the porch, Joanne from next door caught my eye. She was out in her signature pink bathrobe, even though it was nearly noon, meticulously deadheading her petunias before the first hard frost really takes hold. She waved her gardening shears at me and shouted, 'You’re getting faster, Lucy!' It made me laugh, but it also made me stand a little taller. Sometimes we need our neighbors to see the progress we’re too close to notice ourselves.

Noah was home with me this morning, and he spent a good hour 'helping' me by lining up his plastic dinosaurs along the baseboards. He’s currently in his favorite velociraptor pajamas—the ones with the mismatched socks—and he told me very seriously that the T-Rex was guarding the candles so they would 'smell better.' Emma is at school, of course, probably doodling horses on the margins of her subtraction worksheets again. I saw a few in her folder yesterday. She has such a wild, creative spirit; I hope she never outgrows the urge to make art where it isn't expected.

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about self-worth and how it ties into the way we maintain our homes and our bodies. For a long time, I thought being a 'good' wife and mother meant putting myself at the very bottom of the list. I thought deprivation was a form of love. But as I’ve pushed through these fifty-three miles, I’ve realized that when I take care of myself—when I run, when I grow my little candle business, when I actually use the robin-egg-blue journal Megan gave me—I have so much more to give back to Mark and the kids.

Speaking of Mark, he’s been so supportive of this 5K goal. Last night, as we were cleaning up the kitchen, he caught my waist and told me he could see the change in me—not just the physical toning, but the way I carry myself. We are coming up on nine years of marriage, and it is wonderful to realize that he still looks at me with that same spark, even when I’m covered in soy wax and smelling like a forest. Feeling desirable isn't just about the reflection in the mirror; it’s about the confidence that comes from knowing you are capable of hard things.

Financially, the candle sales are finally starting to balance out the cost of the supplies. It’s a slow growth, a few dollars here and there, but it feels like 'mine.' It’s a small victory for our family budget, but a huge victory for my spirit. It’s a reminder that even in a small town like Cedar Falls, in a little blue house on Sycamore Street, you can build something from nothing if you just keep pouring the wax and keep running the miles.

Megan stopped by briefly this afternoon with a few 'reject' cupcakes from Sweet Magnolia—the icing wasn't perfect, but they taste like heaven. We sat on the back steps for ten minutes, just breathing in the autumn air and talking about our pickleball match this coming Saturday. She’s my rock, and having her in my corner makes the uphill climbs feel a little flatter.

Biscuit is currently curled up at my feet, his golden fur glowing in the late afternoon sun. He knows the routine; he knows that as soon as I close this laptop, the evening rush begins. There are dishes to be done, a dinosaur-themed bath to be managed, and a conversation to be had with Mark about his long day at the construction site. But for this final minute of quiet, I am just Lucy. I am a runner, a maker, and a woman who is learning to love the process.

I hope you found a small victory today, too. Whether it was a mile run, a clean kitchen, or just a moment to breathe, I hope you know that you are enough exactly as you are. I’m going to go start the pasta now and welcome my husband home. I love you. — Lucy