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Meg Marie Wallace
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Meg Marie Wallace

restored furniture

Barn Door Dresser|Bookshelf turned into a dresser|Meg Wallace|One Glass Slipper|DIY
Family | General

DIY: Barn Door Dresser

This past week I sold my old dresser and decided to turn an old bookshelf (that I got for free!) into a barn door dresser. I wanted something unique and rustic and I thought the idea of adding barn doors would be an fun upgrade! I now have a place for all of my little…

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Your Family Style Guide

Here to help you coordinate and style your family to create those dreamy, soft photos and keep everyone smiling!

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The Macro Focused Recipe Book

These are my actual real life busy-mom recipes that help me stay healthy, burn fat, increase energy and build muscle! Doesn’t get any better than this!

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These work through the FREE version of Lightroom on mobile and the regular version on desktop! You’ll get my 10 favorite presets, 8 color and 2 black/white.
Capture and quickly edit your memories with just one click. 

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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.
Curated friendships don’t hold up in a storm. An Curated friendships don’t hold up in a storm. And true friendship doesn’t come with a spotlight. No one claps for the late-night phone call, the repetitive pleadings in prayer in the middle of someone else’s mess, or the way you show up again and again when it would be easier to disappear. But that? That’s the stuff of real life. That’s the Gospel in motion. We’re not collecting people like followers. We’re committing to them like family. We’re not building networks. We’re building altars. And in a world hungry for connection but allergic to cost, we’ve sometimes dressed convenience in the language of love and called it friendship. We’ve traded covenant for comfort. Depth for dopamine. Presence for proximity. But there is a revival of friendship coming. And it won’t be led by the popular. It won’t be led by those who are more eager to serve themselves than others. It will be led by the faithful. The ones who stayed when it got awkward. The ones who fought hard for reconciliation. The ones who didn’t just bring meals, but bore burdens. The ones who didn’t need a platform to love well—they just needed a porch, or a bathroom floor, or a driveway…or wherever else real conversations happen. Because the mattering things? They happen around kitchen tables. In hospital rooms. In text threads filled with prayers, vulnerability, and sometimes tears. They happen when someone looks at your darkest day and says, “I’m not leaving.” This isn’t flashy. It’s not a brand. But it’s real. It’s rooted. It’s eternal. And if that doesn’t trend, so be it. I didn’t come to be liked. I came to love. I came to live what’s true. And what’s true is this: The kind of friendship that reflects Christ won’t always be easy—but it will always, always ALWAYS be worth it. Beach trip 2025 with 100+ friends is in the books! #findyourpeople
Yesterday morning, my son Kai was baptized in the Yesterday morning, my son Kai was baptized in the ocean, surrounded by our closest friends—people who have walked with us, prayed with us, wept with us, celebrated with us and helped shape him into the young man he is. As he came up out of the water, the waves kept rolling in, crashing behind him—and I couldn’t help but feel the weight of that moment. Life is like that sometimes, isn’t it? The waves just keep coming. Hit after hit. Roll after roll. But standing there, I was reminded: we are anchored. We are held. And we will stand firm…no matter what comes…because our hope is in Jesus. There is nothing—truly nothing—I want more than for my kids than to know and follow Jesus all the days of their lives. To love Him with their whole hearts. Kai is such a strong, steady leader, and yet his heart is so soft, so tender. He is a gift to all who know him. As a mama…I don’t deserve him. He’s a treasure I will never get over. His wisdom, his kindness, his integrity, his humor…I am so humbled and honored to call him one of my best and most trusted friends. And Jesus—oh, I’m most grateful for Him. For grace that runs deeper than the waves. For a Savior who will always meet us in the water. For a family and friends who cheer wildly for what matters most. For this moment I’ll carry with me for eternity.
There’s a tender term shepherds use for a lamb t There’s a tender term shepherds use for a lamb that’s been rejected by its mother:⁠ a “bummer lamb”.⁠ ⁠ It’s not that the lamb did something wrong—⁠ maybe the mother died in childbirth.⁠ Maybe she simply rejected it.⁠ Maybe she didn’t have the capacity to care.⁠ ⁠ Regardless of the reason,⁠ the result is always the same:⁠ the lamb is left alone,⁠ wandering,⁠ crying out for a voice it doesn’t recognize,⁠ searching for a place it can’t quite name.⁠ ⁠ But here’s the part that gets me:⁠ ⁠ A good shepherd never leaves a bummer lamb to suffer.⁠ He brings it into his home.⁠ Feeds it from a bottle.⁠ Holds it close to his chest so it can hear his heartbeat.⁠ Sleeps beside it through the dark of night.⁠ ⁠ And over time—⁠ slowly, softly—⁠ that lamb begins to know the shepherd’s voice better than any other.⁠ ⁠ When he calls, it runs.⁠ Because it’s not just rescued.⁠ It’s known.⁠ It’s wanted.⁠ It’s his.⁠ ⁠ Jesus said it plainly:⁠ “My sheep hear My voice, and I know them, and they follow Me… and no one will snatch them out of My hand.” (John 10:27-28)⁠ ⁠ There are days I also feel like a bummer lamb. Days when I question my belonging.⁠ When I ache with the weight of being too much for some and not enough for others.⁠ But then I remember—⁠ the Good Shepherd came for the rejected,⁠ the overlooked,⁠ the fragile and frayed.⁠ ⁠ And He didn’t just save us.⁠ He stayed with us.⁠ ⁠ So if you’re limping through today, wondering if you’ve been left behind—⁠ you haven’t.⁠ You’re not lost.⁠ You’re not forgotten.⁠ ⁠ You’re held.⁠ Forever and always, a bummer lamb…⁠ cradled in the arms of the Shepherd⁠ who has brought you in, adopted you as His and calls you His own.⁠
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