evolution of a garden

No more flu! (dances in a little circle)

But I do have a backyard that is finally shaping into a garden...the rose garden will be planted next week beside the pergola...the wisteria for the pergola is already growing...

Some photos of Nathan's hard work:


Nathan, the pergola papa, and David, who acquired many splinters




fuzzy wuzzy was a bee




you would think the important storyline here is that Nathan is nailing in the last of the boards, but really it's that I picked out this hammer at Lowes

i hate having the flu!

sevens, anyone?

I read back through my last couple posts after Suzannah called me to see if I was okay. I guess they have seemed a bit sad lately, which doesn’t quite reflect things, so I thought I’d write a happy post. (Thanks, Suz, btw, for making sure all was good).

Here are seven things that made me happy or made me laugh…

1. I told Nathan I wanted to be his pet alligator rather than his princess because princesses have to stay in the castle and cross-stitch while pet alligators get to go on adventures, and he said okay.

2. Nicholas asked one thing in return for cooking us dinner this week—to be able to watch Kurt’s speech from the wedding rehearsal again...OH MY GOODNESS, as if it isn’t burnt into all of our brains already. Haha.

3. Ms. Janet’s hugs and her red highlights and the way her words make me stronger

4. Taking naps in the hammock at sunset

5. I caught a homonym error in this list and corrected it before posting

6. My sister’s paintings of Beachwater

7. Less like tearing, more like building
Less like captive, more like willing
Less like breakdown, more like surrender
Less like haunting, more like remember

Less like a prison, more like my room
It's less like a casket, more like a womb
Less like dying, more like transcending
Less like fear, less like an ending!!!!

artistry

do you want to pain-t me here?
paint me in(to) a corner?
knees bare bent
black t-shirt
no movement in my toes. odd.
only the kinetic momentum of tears.
solemn stream.
liquid pain-t.
but not enough to make my eyes red.
my heart does the real sobbing.
(no one would be suspicious if it were red).
i don’t know what to do.
this corner is not even mine.

it's gonna be a late night

Last night we had an awesome prayer time with our college students. It was so exciting to hear them intercede for their city and the world.

David, Nathan, and I are going to do a retreat in Ozark tonight and tomorrow morning. It's an all-nighter (Nathan will begin speaking at 10 p.m., and I'll have my girl grooup at 1 a.m., I think), so we'll see. I left Nathan sleeping soundly in the bed this morning. I am planning on napping later. Maybe I can convince those kids what their place needs is somma dem Indian mounds.

I bit it.

After hours of running all over this town gathering (or buying) documents, I officially changed my name yesterday afternoon.

I am not exactly happy about this; I am just tired of people judging and criticizing me for wanting to keep my last name. Nathan has been very kind about it. He had wanted me to change my name, but he never pressured me to. When he brought it up, I asked him, "Do you feel like a Smith?" His answer was, of course, no. And I explained that I had a hard time understanding myself as a Wallace--because it was someone else's name.

Of course, go figure, when it came time to write down what I wanted my name to be, I was a little overwhelmed. In the end, I sacrificed my middle name on the altar of societal expectations (and afterwards wanted to run in and ask that lady just how many middle names one person was allowed).

So, look me up under the W's from now on.

hand me a string and help me tie this sheet tent to the dining room chairs

I feel like hiding out today...any takers?

Cacophonics

Sometimes people let words come out of their mouths that they think are fairly innocuous. Maybe critical, but not enough to make the recipient cave. What they don't realize is that sometimes their words are added to the critical comments of countless others who create a symphonic cacophony--of hurtful remarks. cacophonics, if you will permit me to coin.

So, last night I battled the whispered lies that I am worthless. Today, I battle them again. I think about this bird (I photographed him on my last birthday, which wasn't the best day either), and I think about his thoughts. He's mulling over whether or not to jump, I think.

I mull over jumping myself and its results. And then, I remember. What a waste of time for me to think this. What a waste of time, Mr. Bird, for you to think this. Jumping is not the fabric of our creation.

We were made to fly.