If you've been following along on social media, you know we've officially entered one of my favorite stages of this entire process
The paint is going on the walls. The decorations are coming out of boxes. The furniture is finding its home. Every day we're walking in and seeing a little less construction... and a little more Mingo.
It is finally starting to feel *real*.
One of the biggest milestones this week was seeing our custom playhouses delivered. They are absolutely everything we dreamed they would be, and watching them come together inside the space was a surreal feeling—months of preparation and years of praying coming to fruition in a single moment. I can't wait to watch thousands of little imaginations run wild inside them. My kids have already picked out their favorites (which just happen to be replicas of where Mommy and Daddy work every day 😉), so I can't wait to see where your little ones end up spending most of their time.
As exciting as the playhouse delivery was, there was a lot of work that had to happen before they could even be installed.
If you've been following this project from the beginning, you know the flooring has probably been our biggest headache. It has been one obstacle after another, and there were definitely moments when I wondered if we'd ever find something that felt right.
Before our "Before the Floors" worship night, I was determined to get the old adhesive cleaned up so people would have a nice place to write their prayers. I bought products, scraped, scrubbed, and tried everything I could think of.
But every single thing I tried made it worse.
I remember telling a friend, "Every time I try to fix these floors, I just make them worse."
I keep thinking about that.
Sometimes we're so convinced that we need to be the one to fix the situation—to scrub harder, work longer, or force the outcome—that we never stop to ask whether it's ours to fix in the first place.
I wasn't a flooring expert. I didn't have the right tools. I didn't have the knowledge. My determination wasn't enough to produce the result I wanted. Eventually, I had to stop trying to control it.
Instead of obsessing over the floors, we gathered to worship. We covered that dirty concrete with prayers and let go of hopes of perfection. What could have been another frustrating night became one of the most meaningful moments of this entire project.
Then the professionals stepped in.
They saw possibilities where I only saw problems. They transformed something that had become a source of stress into one of my favorite parts of the entire building.
Now every time I walk across those floors, I can't help but think about how often God asks us to surrender the things we're trying so desperately to fix ourselves. Not because He doesn't want us to work hard, but because sometimes the miracle isn't found in working harder—it's found in trusting the One who knows exactly what He's doing.
Those floors are beautiful now. Better than I ever imagined they could be. Every frustrating conversation, delay, and decision was worth it, because they completely transformed the space.
Maybe that's the lesson I'll carry with me long after this construction project is over.
This entire project has stretched us in ways we never expected.
Opening our first location was hard. Expanding into a second one has been hard in completely different ways. There have been delays, unexpected expenses, countless decisions, and plenty of moments where we've had to trust that God was writing a better story than we could see in the moment.
There is something really special about building a business alongside other people who care deeply about this community. From contractors and suppliers to craftsmen and installers, we've had the privilege of working with so many talented local businesses, and every single one has left their fingerprint on this space. We're so grateful.
If you've been around here for any length of time, you know intentionality is at the center of everything we do.
Nothing in this building is there by accident.
We've spent countless hours thinking through how families will move through the space, where parents will sit, how kids will discover little moments of wonder, and even the tiny details most people may never consciously notice. Every color, every piece of décor, every corner, every decision has been made with the hope that when you walk through the doors, you'll simply feel it.
We want this to be more than just a place to play. We want it to feel welcoming. Peaceful. Beautiful. Comfortable. Like somewhere you actually want to spend your morning.
And then there's the part I can hardly contain my excitement about...
**A FULL KITCHEN.**
You have no idea how long I've waited to say those words.
This kitchen opens up an entirely new side of The Mingo that we've only dreamed about until now. We've been brainstorming breakfast sandwiches, testing recipes, talking through lunch options, and yes... working on what we hope will become the perfect blueberry muffin.
If you know me, you know I'll probably obsess over that blueberry muffin until it's exactly right.
Our goal has never been to simply add more menu items. We want to create food that feels just as intentional as everything else we do—made well, served fresh, and worth coming back for.
There's still plenty left to do before opening day.
There are punch lists to finish, decorations to hang, equipment to install, and about a thousand little details to check off.
But for the first time, I can truly picture families filling this place with laughter. I can almost hear the espresso machine humming, smell fresh muffins baking in the kitchen, watch kids racing from playhouse to playhouse, and see parents lingering over one more cup of coffee because they simply don't want to leave yet.
After all the waiting, all the planning, and all the hard work...
We're getting so close.
And I cannot wait to welcome you inside.
#StayPink,
Rachel