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The other day I found myself reflecting on life, business, and all the things Matt and I have spent way too much time analyzing over the years. Somewhere in the middle of that rabbit trail, I said: “I think my MO is simply to walk through the next door.” The funny thing is, I didn’t think much of it at the time. But the more I’ve sat with it, the more I think that little sentence explains a lot of my life. Which is funny, because if you’ve ever watched me make a major life decision, you’ve probably witnessed me researching it to death, talking it over with Matt seventeen times, making a pros and cons list, praying about it, and then wondering if I missed something important anyway. These days, I crave certainty. Or at least I think I do. The funny thing is that I wasn’t always this way. There was a time in my life when I was much more spontaneous. Much more likely to jump first and figure it out later. Somewhere along the way, life got more… nuanced. Marriage. Kids. Bills. A business. Medical decisions. Responsibilities. Suddenly every choice felt a little heavier than it used to. When you’re responsible for more than just yourself, it makes sense to want a roadmap. A timeline. A guarantee that things will work out. If I’m honest, I’d really prefer if God would hand me the entire plan upfront. Maybe a budget while He’s at it. 😅 But that’s not usually how it happens. Instead, it feels like He gives me enough light for the next step. Not the next five years. Not even the next five months. Just enough for the next step. And I don’t always love that. Especially when life feels uncertain. Especially when there are big decisions to make. Especially when I’m tired of researching, tired of waiting, and tired of feeling like I should have everything figured out before moving forward. A few days before this realization, I told Matt I was tired. Not tired because life is bad. Not tired because I don’t love my family. Not tired because I don’t enjoy what I do. Just tired of analyzing. Tired of researching. Tired of trying to make sure we don’t miss something important. Sometimes I just want to make a decision and move on with life. And maybe that’s why this idea hit me so hard. Because when I look back, many of the best things in my life didn’t begin with certainty. They began with a simple step. Starting a candle business. Homeschooling our kids. Applying to a market. Sending a message to another small business owner. Saying yes to an opportunity I wasn’t sure I was ready for. Taking a chance. Walking through a door without knowing exactly where it would lead. Somewhere along the way, I realized this whole thing sounds a lot like Psalm 119:105: “Your word is a lamp to my feet and a light to my path.” It’s a verse that’s quoted so often it’s almost become background noise. But when you stop and think about it, a lamp isn’t a floodlight. It doesn’t show you the next five years. It doesn’t answer every question. It doesn’t reveal every twist and turn ahead. It just gives enough light for the next step. And maybe that’s exactly how God intended it. The more I think about it, the more I realize that my life hasn’t been built by having all the answers. It’s been built by walking through the next door. One conversation. One candle order. One doctor’s appointment. One opportunity. One scary decision. One door. Maybe that’s why I was so surprised by the realization in the first place. From my side of things, it often feels like I’m constantly questioning myself. Constantly researching. Constantly wondering if I’m making the right choice. But maybe other people aren’t seeing the questions. Maybe they’re seeing the steps. Because when I look back, that’s where I can see God’s faithfulness most clearly. Not because He handed me the whole map. But because He was there at every step along the way. The path almost always makes more sense looking backward than it does looking forward. The opportunities I thought would change everything sometimes didn’t. The things I never saw coming often did. And the doors that seemed insignificant at the time ended up leading somewhere beautiful. So these days, I’m trying to spend less time demanding a roadmap and more time paying attention to the next door in front of me. Because maybe that’s all we’re meant to see. Not the whole path. Just enough light for the next step. And then the next one after that.

Ten years. Ten years since I kissed her sweet little face that I loved so dearly. Ten years since I did one of the hardest things I’ve ever done - laying my four-month-old baby in the arms of a stranger and watching them walk away. Ten years since seeing my sweet little girl for a second first time… and falling in love with her new smile while my heart quietly mourned her original one at the same time. Before that day, I had already kissed that tiny face thousands of times. I had memorized every curve of her little smile - the one that would only be mine for four short months. Life was busy back then. My husband was serving in a line unit in the Army, which meant our days could swing between incredibly boring and incredibly stressful (if you know, you know). Most of my days were spent chasing a very energetic toddler who loved life with his whole heart. And then one day, I just knew - I was pregnant again. My first baby was only fourteen months old, and I wasn’t exactly planning to add another little blessing so soon. In fact, my husband had hoped we might wait until we were out of the Army before growing our family again. But God had other plans. Looking back now, I can see they were very good plans. The first half of the pregnancy was a little rough, mostly because slowing down wasn’t really an option with a toddler running around. But we managed, and eventually the day came for our 20-week anatomy scan. I was nervous and excited all at once. The technician took all the measurements and then told us the news - it was a girl. I was thrilled. A boy and a girl felt like the perfect little pair. Later that same day we headed to a mandatory “fun day” with my husband’s unit. Life felt normal. A week later, just a couple of hours before my husband was due home, I got a call from my OB. She had news about my baby girl. I don’t remember every detail of that conversation, but I remember the moment she told me that our daughter would be born with a cleft lip - and possibly a cleft palate. My world stopped. What did this mean? Would she be able to eat? Would we be able to breastfeed? Would she be healthy? Fear rushed in faster than answers. I remember calling my mom, completely overwhelmed and not knowing what to do. I wondered if I had done something wrong - or failed to do something I should have. I felt like I was spiraling. When my husband finally got home that evening, I broke the news to him. From that point forward, the rest of the pregnancy carried a weight of unknowns we had never expected. During my third trimester, my husband began the process of leaving the Army. We decided to move back to Conroe so we could be close to Texas Children’s Hospital in the Houston Medical Center. Texas Children’s is world-renowned, and we wanted the best possible care for our little girl. So late in my pregnancy, we packed up our apartment in Colorado. My husband loaded the biggest Penske truck we could rent, my sweet mother-in-love came up to help us move back, and we began the long drive back to Texas. Our plan was simple: get settled, get comfortable, and wait for baby. Of course, life had other plans. At the last minute we learned my husband would have to remain in Colorado for another month before taking terminal leave and joining us in Texas. That was a hard day. Eventually he made it home - and two weeks later, ten days after her due date, Ava made her debut. It was my quickest delivery. My water broke around 7 p.m., and she was born just after 2:30 in the morning. I will never forget the moment they placed her on my chest. I was instantly in love. And her little cleft lip was perfect to me. We came to the hospital prepared with the two bottles most recommended for cleft babies - which turned out to be a very good thing, because the hospital didn’t actually have anything designed for feeding cleft babies. Ava took to the Haberman bottle immediately, and we all began learning together what feeding her would look like. I was determined to give her the best start I could, so I pumped. That journey lasted fifteen months. When we were discharged a few days later, we brought our sweet little girl home to meet her big brother. Life during that season was not easy. My husband was adjusting to civilian life. I was battling postpartum depression. Ava had weekly appointments downtown with the cleft team for her NAM device (Nasoalveolar Molding). We still see that orthodontist today - he’s one of our favorites. And Charlie, our toddler, was simply thrilled to have a new little friend. Eventually the day came for Ava’s first surgery. She was four and a half months old. We arrived early that morning, and she was one of the first surgeries scheduled that day. Waiting for updates felt like torture, but finally the moment came when we were allowed back to see her in recovery. Seeing her face for the first time after surgery was both beautiful and heartbreaking all at once. It’s hard to explain that feeling. Her new little smile was incredible - and I was deeply grateful for the skill of the surgeons who had repaired her lip so beautifully. But there was also a quiet ache in my heart knowing the smile I had kissed every day for four months was gone. We stayed overnight to make sure she could eat - which she did like the absolute champ she is - and the very next day we were able to bring her home. She healed beautifully and quickly began chubbing up even more. There were more surgeries ahead of us in the years that followed. But this first one was the hardest. It was the moment my little girl’s face changed. I am endlessly grateful for the incredible cleft team who cared for Ava and for the beautiful outcome of her lip repair. But if I’m being honest… A small part of me will probably always miss that original smile. Ten years later, that tiny baby girl is now a brave, funny, strong-willed kid who lights up a room with that same smile. Her journey with cleft care isn’t completely finished. There have been more procedures and surgeries along the way, and there will still be a few more ahead of us in the coming years. That’s simply part of the road families like ours walk. But looking back now, I can see so clearly how faithful God has been through every part of it. Through the fear when we first heard the diagnosis. Through the long appointments and waiting rooms. Through the surgeries and recoveries. And through the quiet strength of a little girl who handled it all far better than her parents ever did. Ten years ago today, a surgeon repaired Ava’s lip. But the courage, the resilience, and the joy in that smile… those have always been hers. Happy 10-Year Smileversary, Ava! Your smile has always been worth it.

The last few months have been… a lot. After Ava’s surgery, life didn’t slow down the way I imagined it might. There have been follow-up appointments, healing, and still a few unknowns surrounding her bone graft that we’re waiting to see play out. And while all of that was unfolding, life around us kept moving. Between our family and some close relatives, we found ourselves in the ER three different times in the span of three weeks. Homeschool keeps moving forward, the candle business continues to require attention, and ordinary life somehow keeps threading itself through the middle of it all. Some seasons of life feel steady and predictable. This one does not. Right now, it feels like we’re standing in the middle of a storm of unknowns. Family dynamics, health questions, big life decisions still sitting in the distance without clear answers yet. The kind of season where you can feel the weight of things you can’t fix or control. And if I’m being honest, there have been moments where the chaos is loud, and the storm inside my chest threatens to drown me. But it never fails. In the proverbial eye of the storm, when I feel like I couldn't be any more broken and beaten, God stoops down and whispers to my spirit: “I am still here. I am still God. Just rest.” It's not the kind of rest we plan. It 's not a beachside vacation full of sunshine, no phones, and family (although that would be nice). It's the kind of rest that defies the chaos swirling around. It's the kind of rest that quiets the storm inside my chest even when the storm outside my chest still rages. It doesn't make everything all better, but it anchors me. And the more I sit with that word - rest  - the more I realize that the kind of rest Scripture talks about is very different from what we usually picture. Biblical rest isn’t just about stopping or taking a break. It ’s about the absence of striving . It’s the moment when we stop trying to carry things that were never ours to carry in the first place. It’s laying down the endless mental calculations, the “what ifs,” the attempts to control outcomes we cannot control. It ’s trusting that God is still God even when life feels uncertain. Hebrews talks about entering God’s rest, and the more I think about it, the more it feels like an invitation to loosen our grip on the things we keep trying to hold together. Not because the storm disappears. But because we remember who holds the wind and the waves. There are still unknowns in front of us. There are still things we’re praying through. Still decisions ahead. Still parts of life that feel messy and unresolved. The storm outside hasn’t passed. But I’m slowly learning that biblical rest isn’t the absence of storms. It ’s the absence of striving. It’s the moment where I stop trying to control outcomes I was never meant to control in the first place. It ’s loosening my grip on the endless mental calculations - the “what ifs,” the attempts to fix everything, the pressure to hold everything together. And instead, simply remembering who God is. Not the God of tidy, predictable lives. The God who sits with us right in the middle of the chaos and reminds us that He is still sovereign over all of it. The storm may still rage. But I don’t have to drown in it. Because even here - in the middle of it - God is still God. And for now, that is where my rest lives.

We’re Home It’s strange how simple those words are, considering how much weight they carry. Ten years ago, this moment felt impossibly far away. I remember staring at the timeline, barely keeping my head above water, knowing I didn’t have the bandwidth to think about the next month, let alone the next decade. Back then, survival mode was the only mode. The Early Years of Our Cleft Journey The first few years were rough. Not gonna lie. Learning how to use the Haberman bottle, figuring out Ava’s eating rhythms, chasing an energetic toddler, navigating postpartum depression, adjusting to civilian life after the army, moving back to Texas, and walking through two reconstructive surgeries. It was a lot to carry all at once. And some days, it felt like I was carrying it alone. 😅 And yet. Somehow. Here we are. A full decade later. Time didn’t stop, even when I felt frozen. Life kept going. Slowly, things got better. Easier in some ways. Ava’s cleft journey faded into the background as her lip and palate healed beautifully, her food issues improved, and her ears never gave us any trouble. That still feels like a small miracle. I’m endlessly grateful for a healthy, strong, beautiful girl, and for how the Lord restored and strengthened my bond with her through all of it. The Night Before Surgery This most recent surgery felt like a full-circle moment. The night before surgery came faster than I expected. Our arrival time was moved up at the last minute, which meant an even earlier morning. Not my favorite. But less waiting, and less time for her to be hungry, so I’ll take it. Before bed, we watched Super Mario Bros , her favorite, and she snuggled up next to me. I could tell she was a little nervous but also soaking up the one-on-one time. Some days I get so caught up in how fast she’s growing that I forget how much I still love those quiet snuggles. Then came a brief panic when we couldn’t find Maizy Daisy, her one favorite stuffy. I was already spiraling until she found it tucked away in the closet. No idea how it got there, but crisis averted. 😅 Everything was packed. The truck mostly loaded. Just a few things left for the morning. And once the house was quiet, I found myself fighting the urge to go hold her just one more time. Motherhood does that to you. This wasn’t a terrifying, life-or-death surgery. Not something like a heart transplant. And still, it was hard. Emotions don’t always make sense, especially when you’re a mama. I turned the monitor on for the first time in nearly five years, told myself to eat, hydrate, and sleep. 5:15 was coming whether I was ready or not. Spoiler. My stomach had other plans. 🙄 Surgery Day and a Different Kind of Waiting Matt and I woke up before our alarm and got a head start. I grabbed a protein bar and some milk while getting ready. Ava was up by 5:25, calm and steady, and we were in the truck by 5:45. We hit traffic and still made it with fifteen minutes to spare. Small win. Pre-op was easier than I remembered. Probably because she isn’t a baby anymore. No pumps. No bottles. No juggling a crying newborn. Just a confident big girl. Maizy Daisy got to go back with her too, which helped more than I can explain. After almost two hours, it was time. The surgical team came in for final checks, then took her back. She looked like an absolute rockstar surrounded by her entourage, and my heart just about burst. Matt and I headed to the waiting room. Miss Ashley from Child Life came back with the iPad and told us Ava did amazing with the IV and was asleep within minutes. Once we knew she was under, we grabbed cafeteria food, wandered the gift shop, and somehow an entire hour disappeared. We even found a little stuffy to bring home for her. Marriage, Healing, and Lockstep Faith And somewhere in all that waiting, something else stood out to me. The first two times we walked through surgeries like this, it felt like Matt and I were coexisting in the same space but living in separate worlds. Each fighting our own battles, processing fear in our own ways, just trying to survive. This time was completely different. We were in sync. Fully. Not because we needed to fill the silence, but because we were in lockstep the entire time. We’ve done so much healing and growing, both individually and as husband and wife. Jesus gets all the credit for that. Truly. The difference was night and day, and I can’t begin to explain how healing that was for my own heart. It never ceases to amaze and humble me to see how much Jesus has restored in our little family. There just aren’t words. 🥹🥰 Recovery, Home, and Small Wins The surgery status board decided to test my patience, showing when surgery started but never updating after that. After three hours, I finally went to surgery reception and learned she was finishing up and heading to PACU. Relief doesn’t even touch it. When we finally got to see her, she was groggy and loopy, but still goofy and kind to everyone. Mary, our PACU nurse, was incredible. We were moved towers for our overnight stay, which wasn’t ideal, but Mary and Miss Tammy made it so much better. Good nurses truly make all the difference. We were discharged a few hours early the next day and were home before noon. Huge win. The first four days post-op, Ava slept in our room. We were up every three hours with pain meds, because I refuse to fall behind on pain. Once the swelling went down. Which honestly wasn’t as bad as I expected. We decided it was time to get back to normal life. She moved back into her room with her little sister, big brother moved back into his room, and everyone started sleeping better. Last night marked a big milestone. She had Motrin at 11pm when Matt and I went to bed and didn’t need anything again until 9:30 the next morning. Huge win. One of the funniest memories from this stretch has been reminding Ava to slow down while walking. There’s a Mickey Mouse short where Goofy’s grandma shuffles along saying, “here comes grandma, here comes grandma.” That line has become our family mantra anytime she starts moving too fast. 🤪 Nine Days Post-Op and Grateful Beyond Words Today marks nine days post-op, and she’s recovering beautifully. Very little hip soreness. Very manageable pain at her surgical site. The liquid diet has honestly been the hardest part, especially since she’s never been much of a soup person. We have a follow-up with her surgeon early next week, and we’re hoping to be cleared for soft foods, which would make things much easier. All in all, I’m beyond happy with how she’s doing. And I’m deeply grateful. For her healing. For the breakthroughs. And for the growth the Lord has worked in me, in my marriage, and in our family through this process. Ten years ago, I couldn’t imagine this moment. But here we are. We’re home. 💛

This morning, the kids ran outside to soak up the cool front and sunshine. From the doorway, I heard: “Hey, it’s Finter!” (that magical mix of fall and winter 😄) “Thank You, God!” “Ahhhh, it feels so good!” And I just stood there smiling. In that moment, I realized - our kids aren’t thankful by accident. They’ve been watching. They’ve seen Matt and me whisper quiet prayers of gratitude when an order comes in, when traffic clears, or when an answer finally clicks. They’ve seen us pause mid-chaos to take a deep breath and say, “Thank You, Lord.” It hit me that the lessons that really stick aren’t the ones we sit down and teach - they’re the ones we live. Gratitude doesn’t have to be loud or fancy. It’s built in those small, sacred moments - the under-our-breath praises that our kids absorb more than we ever realize. This morning reminded me that little eyes are always watching, and little hearts are always learning. So, I’m choosing to keep modeling thankfulness - not just in the big wins, but in the everyday blessings: cool mornings, answered prayers, and the steady goodness of God in between. Maybe that’s what “Finter” really is - the in-between place where gratitude takes root. 🍂❄️ “Give thanks in all circumstances; for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus.” - 1 Thessalonians 5:18

Buzzword Breakdown Series | Crunchy Mama Candles Authentic, Nontoxic, All Heart. In a world full of buzzwords and filters, transparency is everything. At Crunchy Mama Candles , we don’t just talk clean - we prove  it. Our Promise No mystery blends No hidden ingredients No “trade secret” nonsense We believe families deserve to know exactly what they’re bringing into their homes. 🌿 The Crunchy Mama Truth We’re not a faceless factory. We’re a family-owned, Texas-rooted small business that reads ingredient sheets like love letters and pours each candle with care. You can always ask what’s in your candle - we’ll show you. (Yep, even the SDS sheet.) Transparency isn’t trendy here - it’s who we are. Discover clean candles made with honesty here .

Buzzword Breakdown Series | Crunchy Mama Candles “Clean burning” - it’s a pretty phrase. But what does it actually mean? What It’s Not It’s not just soy wax. It’s not just cotton wicks. It’s not a marketing slogan. What It Really  Means A candle burns clean when it’s properly formulated and tested. That means: ✅ The wick size  matches the jar and wax. ✅ The fragrance load  is balanced. ✅ The wax blend  melts evenly. ✅ There’s no soot or smoke  after hours of burn. That’s science - not luck. 🌿 The Crunchy Mama Truth Every candle we pour is hand-tested before it ever hits the shelf. We adjust wicks, wax, and fragrance until it burns clean, safe, and consistent. Because clean burning shouldn’t be a catchphrase - it should be the result of craftsmanship. Explore our best-selling clean-burning candles here .

Buzzword Breakdown Series | Crunchy Mama Candles Natural isn't automatically safer. We love essential oils - truly. But let’s get real: natural doesn’t automatically mean safe. The Essential Oil Trap Essential oils are powerful plant extracts. But in candles, that power can cause problems: Some release toxins  when burned at high temps. Others lose their scent  or burn unevenly. Certain oils (like clove, cinnamon, citrus) can trigger sensitivities . They’re wonderful for diffusers and skincare but not always candle-safe. The Smart Balance Candle making is chemistry, not guesswork. The safest approach is using tested fragrance blends  formulated to handle heat safely - often combining clean synthetics and essential oils. That’s how we create candles that smell amazing and  burn cleanly. The Crunchy Mama Truth At Crunchy Mama Candles , we sometimes use essential oils - but only when they’re stable and verified safe for candles. Our goal isn’t “all natural at any cost." It’s “clean, safe, and honest - always.” Learn more about our ingredient standards here .

Buzzword Breakdown Series | Crunchy Mama Candles "Pure fragrance oils" aren't a thing. You’ve seen it: “Made with pure fragrance oils .” Sounds professional, right? Except… that’s not a real thing. 😅 What Fragrance Oils Actually Are Fragrance oils are blends  - carefully crafted recipes combining natural and synthetic components. They include: Natural aromatic isolates  (like vanillin from vanilla beans) Synthetic aroma molecules  (safe, consistent, lab-created) Carriers or stabilizers  (for scent balance and safe burn) It’s not “impure” - it’s chemistry. Why “Pure Fragrance Oils” Is Misleading “Pure” implies single-source or natural - false. Fragrance oils are formulated products , not raw extracts. Safety and purity aren’t the same thing - clean formulation  is what matters. The Crunchy Mama Truth We only use IFRA-compliant, phthalate-free, paraben-free  fragrance oils sourced from trusted suppliers. We vet every single one using its SDS and IFRA certificates. If it doesn’t pass our safety standards, it doesn’t go in a candle. We’ll take integrity over buzzwords any day. Shop clean, safe, phthalate-free candles here .

Buzzword Breakdown Series | Crunchy Mama Candles Nontoxic doesn’t mean what you think. Let’s talk about one of the most overused words in the “clean living” world - nontoxic. You’ve seen it on everything: skincare, cleaning products, and especially candles. It sounds  safe. It feels  comforting. But here’s the reality most people don’t know - “nontoxic” isn’t regulated by anyone. That means anyone can put it on a label, whether it’s true or not. What “Nontoxic” Doesn’t  Mean It doesn’t mean the candle is phthalate-free or paraben-free. It doesn’t mean the ingredients are natural or safe when burned. And it definitely doesn’t mean the candle has been safety tested. In other words: “nontoxic” has become the glitter of marketing - it’s everywhere, and it sticks whether it belongs or not. What “Nontoxic” Should  Mean At Crunchy Mama Candles , when we say nontoxic , here’s what we actually mean: Phthalate-free  – no hormone disruptors. Paraben-free  – no cheap preservatives. Carcinogen-free and mutagen-free  – verified through each fragrance’s SDS sheet. We don’t rely on claims - we read the data. And if a customer ever wants to see the Safety Data Sheet? We’ll happily share it. Transparency is our standard. Why It Matters When you light a candle, you’re not just adding scent - you’re adding something to the air you breathe. Your home deserves ingredients that comfort, not compromise. At Crunchy Mama Candles , nontoxic  isn’t a trend - it’s our baseline. ✨ Browse our clean, nontoxic candle collections here .

Buzzword Breakdown Series | Crunchy Mama Candles You’ve seen the words everywhere. Nontoxic. Clean burning. Pure fragrance oils. They sound comforting - but what do they actually mean? Here’s the honest truth: in the candle world, most of those words aren’t regulated or defined by anyone. They’re catchy marketing phrases that make products sound  safer than they might be. And as a small-batch maker and mama who actually reads Safety Data Sheets over my morning coffee (not glamorous, but real 😅), I’ve seen firsthand how confusing and misleading this can be for families trying to shop clean. So I decided to start a conversation. 🌿 Welcome to the Buzzword Breakdown Series Each post in this series takes one common candle buzzword and explains - in plain language - what it really means, how it’s used (and abused), and what we believe at Crunchy Mama Candles . We’re not here to call anyone out. We’re here to educate , empower, and bring clarity back to the clean candle conversation. Why It Matters When you light a candle in your home, you’re not just adding scent - you’re adding something to your air. We believe you deserve to know what’s actually in your candle, what those ingredient labels mean, and how to tell the difference between “marketing clean”  and “actually clean.” Because clean  isn’t a trend. It’s a standard. What You’ll Learn in the Series Over the next few weeks, we’ll unpack five of the most common candle claims - and share what they really mean for your home: “Nontoxic” - What It Means, What It Doesn’t “Pure Fragrance Oils” - The Myth Explained “Essential Oils Only” - When Natural Isn’t Safer “Clean Burning” - Marketing Hype or Real Science? “Transparency” - The Heart of Our Brand Each post breaks down the buzzword, gives you the facts, and shares how we hold Crunchy Mama Candles to a higher, truly clean standard. Let’s Light the Way - Together If you’ve ever felt overwhelmed by labels, frustrated by “greenwashing,” or just want to understand what nontoxic  really means - this series is for you. We’ll start with the term everyone throws around (but few understand): Part 1: Nontoxic — What It Means, What It Doesn’t →

Crunchy Mama Candles 4 Year Anniversary Giveaway Four years ago, I poured my very first candle at my kitchen counter with nothing more than curiosity, a prayer, and a dream to create something good for my home. Fast-forward to today - Crunchy Mama Candles has grown into a full family business, and I’m still in awe of what God’s done with that tiny spark. 🕯️ To celebrate 4 years in business , we’re hosting a Winner’s Choice Giveaway! One lucky winner will receive a cozy bundle that includes a 7 oz Candle, Wax Melt, Room Spray, and Car Freshie - all in your favorite scents.  It’s our little way of saying thank you  for supporting handmade, nontoxic, small-batch candles poured right here in Texas. You’re already entered if you’re part of our email family (thank you!). If not, it’s quick and easy - just scroll down below our hero image on the homepage to sign up. Giveaway ends October 18 , and I’ll announce the winner next week in our newsletter and stories. From my family to yours - thank you for helping keep this dream burning bright for the past four years. Here’s to more cozy homes, happy hearts, and candles that tell a story. 🤎