On Saturday, Aevrie and I visited Frisco Square, a multi-generational, master-planned development home to 147 acres of office, retail, multi-family, and municipal space.
Exploring Frisco Square
Roughly 30 minutes from Dallas, Frisco Square is an extremely walkable area that gave me all the feels at the pace I love. Slow.
We walked past Cinemark Next Gen-XD Theater, the backdrop of all the latest movies and special events, and peeked in the Frisco Library and City Hall.
Frisco Square is also where many residents call The Civic at Frisco Square Apartments, Olympus Boulevards at Frisco Square, The Plaza at Frisco Square, or The Isaac home.
You’ll find Frisco Heritage Village and Museum, Frisco Discovery Center & Black Box Theater, and the Sci-Tech Discovery Center here as well. I plan to stop by during the holidays for the annual Christmas in the Square holiday lights and music spectacular, now the largest event in Collin County and the third-largest event in North Texas.
Frisco Square also hosts Arts in the Square, and Music in the Square, and hosts 5K runs, parades, and family events throughout the year.
Eleven Years the Dreamer
On my walk, I stumbled upon Grace Church. I didn’t take a picture but etched in the stone alongside a scripture, the church was founded in 2005 and built sometime in 2016. I couldn’t help but wonder… what took 11 years?
Eleven years. That’s a long time to go from an idea to a thing.
I’m sure so many wonderful things happened during that time. I’m even more confident that more than a few stumbling blocks presented themselves during that time as well. Maybe there were other buildings. Maybe the church grew to the point where a bigger building was the inevitable next step. I realize that no one was just twiddling their thumbs, but whatever the backstory, the building before me came 11 years after the vision. I pushed the stroller along, wondering to myself what it would feel like to wait 11 years for a dream to become a thing.
The Trigger of Imperfection
I can barely wait 11 minutes for a dream to materialize.
I moved into a new apartment on Monday and almost had a meltdown. The apartment, gorgeous by appearances and in a great part of town, needs work. The backyard already has squatters of the creepy-crawly and buzzing variety, and because my unit is on the first floor, outdoor pests don’t see a problem with walking in the front and back doors to pitch tents in the corners of my kitchen and living areas. The air in my unit is damp and mildewy, which isn’t the welcome I like to receive when I come home. Why couldn’t this place just be what I wanted?
Embracing the Human Experience
As a writer, my eyes are trained to find and fix flaws. As a human, my heart can’t deal. Imperfection sends me reeling, and I’m learning that over the years, I’ve turned into a bit of a brat when it comes to dealing with life’s upsets. If I take inventory of all the times I’ve felt completely gutted with disappointment, it’s because things didn’t go exactly as planned. Even when things came close, imperfection was the trigger that set me completely off.
For some reason, I’ve convinced myself that I’m entitled to a human experience exempt from experiencing humanity. But I’m not. People disappoint. Things break. Ideas change. Some of life’s blessings are sent via Amazon Prime, and sometimes they’re sent by ship from China. It’s great when life’s good stuff comes fully assembled, but it’s no less good when you just get the pieces and you have to put it together yourself.
Tilling The Lands of Life
I’ve uprooted myself three times now. Even though I moved by choice each time, I still felt like I had been dropped off in a foreign land. I was so distracted by my self-imposed seasons of survival that I failed to sit still long enough to figure out how to use the rake, pickaxe, and shovel hidden in my mental knapsack. I had everything I needed but never learned how to use what I had. This is my season to learn.
Dallas. My apartment. This place. This land is new to me, and right now it feels uninhabitable. But I’ve decided to bloom where I’ve planted myself, and there’s no way around the work. I can continue to complain about the ground, or I can roll up my sleeves and get busy with tilling the soil life has presented me with.
Creating Space for Growth
I’m not entitled to a life without struggle. I refuse to waste an answered prayer by avoiding the work of cultivating the land God called me to.
This is my season to create space for what is to come. To encourage my roots to grow. To finally eradicate the weeds of my mind. Each new day offers an opportunity to till today’s soil in preparation for tomorrow’s harvest. When tomorrow doesn’t come for another 11 years, each day offers a new song to sing to make the work enjoyable.
“And to the man, he said, ‘Since you listened to your wife and ate from the tree whose fruit I commanded you not to eat, the ground is cursed because of you. All your life you will struggle to scratch a living from it. It will grow thorns and thistles for you, though you will eat of its grains. By the sweat of your brow will you have food to eat until you return to the ground from which you were made. For you were made from dust, and to dust, you will return.’”Genesis 3:17-19, New Living Translation
I hope this post inspires you to live a life of intention. I believe you have the tools to aerate the lands of your life. Be well.
Candace Aliké Smith is a Dallas-based content writer and intentional living blogger. She founded CandaceAlikéSmith.com in 2015 to help women reclaim their vitality through self-care and self-reflection. Read Candace’s journal entries, and follow her content on holistic beauty, mental wellness, essential oils, non-toxic products, healthy libations, and wellness travel.
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