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Meg Marie Wallace

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When the waters rise... I don’t have the right When the waters rise...

I don’t have the right words. I don’t think any of us do.

South Texas is reeling. 

The rivers that once brought beauty, joy, relaxation, and life have now swallowed homes, shattered families, and stolen lives. 

The floodwaters came fast—faster than anyone could have imagined. And in their wake, they’ve left heartbreak, sorrow and pain that words could not possibly mend.

You’ve likely seen the photos. The videos. 

Maybe, like me, you keep refreshing the news, asking loved ones for updates, hoping for some glimmer of hope. 

Maybe you’ve murmured prayers through tears for the families of Camp Mystic and the countless others who are grieving unthinkable loss.

It feels senseless. It feels wrong. It IS wrong.

And yet... even here, especially here, I believe God is near. 

Not in some trite, “everything happens for a reason” way. 

But in the way that the Man of Sorrows always draws close to the brokenhearted. 

The way Jesus wept at the tomb of His friend. 

The way Jesus knew the absence of the Father before taking his last breath. 

The way the Spirit groans with us when words fail.

So what do we do?

Well, put simply…love refuses to look away.

We pray and we lament. We name the unspeakable pain. We grieve with those who grieve. 

To all our neighbors and loved ones here in South Texas—we grieve together with you and we will bend the knee in prayer over you.

Heavenly Father, 
God of all comfort,
We are heartbroken.
You see the pain—the kind no words can reach.
You are not far off. You are near.
You are the Man of Sorrows, familiar with grief.
You wept at the tomb of a friend. You welcome children into Your arms.
You enter the storm with us.

Lord, be near every parent whose arms ache,
every sibling trying to understand,
every family, friend, and neighbor stunned and shattered by loss.

You don’t rush our sorrow—but You do redeem it.
Hold these hurting hearts.
Speak peace where there is none.
Be breath when it’s hard to breathe.
Wrap this whole community in Your love.

Come, Lord Jesus.
Amen.
Happy 4th to you all! 🎇🇺🇸 Happy 4th to you all! 🎇🇺🇸
I just had the privilege of spending a few days at I just had the privilege of spending a few days at Texas A&M for my son’s track & field camp—and it’s hard to put into words what an unforgettable experience it was. At the heart of it all was Coach Pat Henry, the legendary head coach of A&M’s track program.

What made it even more special is the personal connection our family has shared with the Henry family for over 30 years. 

Pat is the older brother of my high school track coach, and his nephew, Kurt—now an assistant coach at A&M—was someone I knew back in those high school days too. Seeing Kurt on the track, coaching with the same heart and integrity as his dad, brought tears to my eyes.

Coach Henry has built more than just a record-breaking team—he’s built a legacy of excellence, character, and care. His athletes give their best because they know they are loved and believed in.

And in true Henry fashion, Coach Pat not only welcomed us with open arms, but took the time to give us a personal tour of the facilities, sit with us in his office for over an hour, and even invited us back for a football game & meet next year. 

What a gift to witness the legacy he has created that has shaped so many lives—including mine—and now is inspiring my son.

Grateful beyond words for the past few days, and so honored to have seen up close what makes Coach Henry—and this program—so extraordinary.

#TexasAM #TrackAndField #Legacy #CoachHenry #Family #Grateful #AggieTrack
It’s strange, isn’t it?⁠ How the places and It’s strange, isn’t it?⁠

How the places and circumstances we once tried to escape⁠ become the very places God uses to heal us…and then others too. 
⁠
We spend a lifetime chasing wholeness,⁠ pursuing what we think we want, desiring comfort not pain, wanting the mountain top not the valley…running from the mess, the broken, trying to avoid the cracks in our stories. 

But God moves toward them, in them, through them. He meets us in that middle, in the hard, in the darkness.

To make beauty where there was once only brokenness.⁠ To bring light into the shadows. 
⁠
Because pain—real pain—⁠
has a way of softening the calloused parts of us.⁠

It humbles. It awakens. It makes us wildly and keenly alert. 
⁠
And if we let Him,⁠ God takes what once felt like weakness⁠, what we perceived as undone and incomplete…the very thing we wished would have never happened…and turns it into a vessel for His strength.⁠
(2 Corinthians 12:9)⁠
⁠
The jagged places?⁠
The scars that still ache some days?⁠
They become sacred—-vivid and marked memories we wouldn’t wish on our worst enemy, but now wouldn’t trade for all the riches in the world.⁠

Not because the suffering was good,⁠ or fun, or desired…but because God wastes nothing.⁠ Absolutely nothing. 
⁠
So don’t despise the limp.⁠
Don’t cover the scar.⁠

In the hands of a loving God,⁠
even the most shattered stories⁠
can become not only our deepest connection with the Father, but also lifelines of hope for someone else.
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