louissa sinclair

the hot sun has kept this cool office not so very cool today.  the window in my office is open, welcoming the warm breeze.  i watch the wind play with leaves of my three big trees.  my hair isn’t done, my makeup isn’t on my face, and i don’t feel very put together… inside or out.

i sat in the front row the other night, surrounded by people i think are pretty darn cool, and looked like the put together Christian that i try to portray.  really, truly, honestly — i do so well at that.  i know what i’m supposed to look like, how i’m supposed to act, the ways that i’m to serve.  i look like the proper senior pastor’s daughter.  i look like the proper church-goer.  and i look like the good Christian girl.

but it’s not about that, is it?

isn’t it about being a follower of Jesus?  i think about how hard it is for me to be open with most people — to be vulnerable and let them see me for my true dirty loathsome self.  but i think of those who followed Jesus in the Bible.  the loudmouth fisherman, the prostitute, the tax collector.  the Bible doesn’t shy away from mentioning the types of people who were with Jesus… and the types of people that Jesus was with.  these were broken people who needed help.  and they didn’t cover it up, they didn’t wear their masks as well as me.

and i think about how i’ve reaped more from the few who have been open in their brokenness then all the showy ones in the world.  i know when Jesus cried and was tempted and asked for His cup to be taken away.  but i also know how the Lord was His strength in those times.

the pharisees had issues.  they must have — don’t we all?  but we don’t read much about it.

i’m a pharisee.  i’m into the show.  i’m into “making my life big.”  i’m a follower of church and ministry.  i’m a follower of the way we’ve said this life is supposed to look.  i’m a follower of making myself look like i’ve got this all down.

but really.  in my heart i’m the loudmouth, stupid fisherman who says all the wrong things.  i’m the prostitute who sells herself away because she has no dignity.  i’m the tax collector who preys on others for personal gain.

and i’m the person that Jesus wants to be with — that Jesus came for.

i’ve been singing this song in my head a lot recently.

Then I hear You sing to me
“You don’t have to do a thing
Just simply be with me and let those things go
It can wait another minute
Wait this moment is to sweet
Please stay here here with me
And love on me a little longer
Cause I’m in love with you.”

i’m learning that… just to be.  i’m learning to let go of all the stuff that comes between me and following Him.  i don’t want to be known as the good senior pastor’s daughter.  i don’t want to be known as a proper church-goer.  and i don’t want to be known only as the good Christian girl.

i want people to look at me and not see someone who has busied themselves in ministry up to their eyeballs because that’s what a perfect Christian does,  but to see someone who is busy in ministry because she’s about her Father’s business — because she’s just following her Lord and doing what she saw Him doing.

but mostly, i want to be known as someone who put Him first.  someone who wasn’t into the act, into the show, into pretending, but someone who was real with Him and others.  i want to be known in my brokenness so that i too can be a testimony of His goodness and faithfulness.

i want to be known as a follower of Jesus.

looking at the phone i notice that it’s my dad’s cell who was out playing tennis and running errands for us.

“hey daddy. it’s louissa.”

“hey louissa.  mom said that you wanted bodywash, but i don’t know what that means.”

“bodywash.  yeah.  i want bodywash… you know — the stuff you wash your body with.”

- silence -

“are you in the bodywash section at wal-mart?”

“i’m in the shampoo section.  is that close?”

“yeah close, but there’s a whole section for bodywash.”

“huh.  [interupted by people he knows] uh… let me call you back in a minute.”

huh is right.

in my mind i must cram.  and all this cramming business is just too much.  but really, isn’t that what everyone is doing?  while the mums are placed beside each front door everyone scrambles for just one more day of short-wearing weather, one more day at the beach, one more day picnicking, one more walk without worrying about a coat and scarf, one more meal of those veggies just picked from the garden, one more, one more, one more.

and i find myself doing it the most.  instead of spending all day yesterday sorting through clothing and things that just happen in my room, i left around noon with a swimsuit in my bag and headed out for the day.  i jumped in the water for the world’s shortest swim (upon entering the water i noticed flies everywhere in the water and quickly got out), sat on a dock, watched them kayak and swim across the lake, and ate steak on a picnic table.

must get it all in before it comes…

i hate change.  i hate change to a fault.  i hate change so much that although fall is one of my favorite times of the year, i’m digging my heels in about moving on.  why should i?  these months have been wonderful, haven’t they?  i hate change so much that although it’s the second of september, i don’t have my fall weekly schedule nailed down.  this is the slowest i’ve ever been at getting my life organized.

and so i take a walk in shorts, t-shirt, and flipflops.  i suck on my freezepop and enjoy the warm air.  i fall asleep to the sound of a fan that will shortly be turned off.  and i continue to hate most every change that comes my way.

someday i’ll grow up.  promise.
oh.  and i twitter while i go.  really.  twittering.  so. much. fun.

i wear shorts and tank tops as much as i can hoping to delay the coming of cold weather.

i walk as much as i can, knowing that soon i won’t be so inspired to go outside. and really, that’s the only exercise i get everyday.

i listen to this song. all the time. i put it on repeat. most of the time. just ask the person i see the most.

i play the piano a little bit more. i was told to. and now i’m remembering the joy the comes when it’s just me and the ivories.

i stay busy. i was also told to stop that. “loosen up your schedule.” i don’t have to zap fry my pop-tarts in the microwave yet, but it’s pretty bad.

i sit in a chair in the shade and look at people who i’m so glad are back in the area. they won’t always be here. but they are now. and i want to savor that.

i cut out joseph figures for 12 little people i’ll teach tomorrow. and the lovely thing? i love doing it.

i sit in my own sanctuary. a side porch. just me. a candle and a lamp. just me. crickets in the background. did i mention that it’s just me?

the other day i was walking to work, happened to glance up and see a cop coming towards me.  in the few seconds that followed my mouth went dry, my heart skipped a beat, and i actually thought, “i wonder if i’m doing anything wrong.”  i then remembered that i was walking and he could hardly pull me over for speeding, not coming to a complete stop, turning in the wrong lane or talking on my cell phone while using my two feet.

paranoid much?  i think so.

yesterday at 6:30pm i was challenged to go 40 days without coffee.

day 1.  9:24am.  very tired.  and is that a headache i’m feeling?

this could be a long 40 days.

i was going to picnic for dinner.

i came home early from work to a four-member band trying on clothes while talking of image and trends and sophisticated meeting hard rock and wanting none of that punk rock stuff.  i rummaged through a mumsie’s amazing mary poppins type closet and found baby boy things to put into a bag for a shower i’m attending this evening.

a few texts, a few phone calls, and my evening plans are changed.  the four-member band walk out of the house, donned in their new apparel, to go and tape themselves practicing so they can critique stage presence.  i wander around the house noting the dirty kitchen counters, the laundry that should be put in after a long weekend get-away, a family room that’s in a bit of dissaray, but i opt to not take care of it… at least for now.

i grab a No Bake cookie off the kitchen table, pour myself a cup of “poser” sweet tea (only that sweet southern goodness), pick up a laptop and my phone (my constant connection to the world) and sit myself on the front porch step.  cars drive by and children ride by on their bikes.  a fire truck goes quickly down the street, the sirens telling of some mishap somewhere.

and i’m just here.  here with a quiet heart and not much to say.  i’m mulling on a lot and there are many scattered thoughts that are making circles in my head and chances are, if you were sitting next to me, sipping your own tea and watching the quiet town of madrid live its life then i’d probably speak a few words, think a bit aloud, ask what your thoughts were, wonder if anything i say makes sense, but mostly i’d just be. 

it’s been a long season of silence.  a long season of learning to wait upon the Lord.  a long season of learning to be still and know that He is God.  but this time of reminding myself to be still — to just be — has taught me more than so many seasons of busyness.

be still…

and i think i’ll continue as i take a walk though my cemetery, to see my field, and around the block.

it’s late.  the midnight scone and tea party has finished and most everyone here at 1942 is busy brushing teeth and finding places to sleep.  extra mattresses have been pulled out and enough room has been found for everyone who decided to rest under this roof tonight.  another long day has ended and i have an even longer one coming with the rising of this day’s sun.  but sleep wasn’t coming as i laid on my yellow sheets and so down to a quiet kitchen with a laptop is where i find myself.

sometimes it’s dangerous to write in the late hours or when one is extremely tired — both of which apply to me currently.  honestly, finding the balance of what is too much to share on an online blog has always been difficult for me.  i’ve been writing too long and at times i get too comfortable.  but then again, some tell me that the reason they keep coming back is my honesty — my transparency.  so please don’t mind me if i’m a bit transparent.

i feel as though i’ve botched everything up in my life.  somewhere along the way the rhythm i had, the game that i was playing so well, skipped a beat, i fell off my course and i’m madly trying to get it back again.  this short time that i have here on earth, the brief moments i have with those that surround me — i can’t seem to do it the right way.

i’m twenty and i still have bad attitudes.  for example, sometimes i still find myself responding badly to my parents.

the minute i get tired, i lose all self control and i have no desire to try maintain it.  i get irritable and am an emotional basket case.

i lack love.  for anyone and everyone.

everything the Lord gives me — opportunities, giftings, words of encouragement — i somehow mess up.

recently i’ve gotten annoyed with people and i don’t usually get annoyed.

my attempts to control every aspect of my life has failed and shown how mistrusting i am.

i’ve been dumb enough to immediately toss out what He says to me because of insecurities.  how’s that for trusting the Almighty One?

i’ve become self-centered.  and i’ve probably hurt some around me since that’s what usually happens when that dreadful thing pops up.

but mostly, i’ve lost my focus.  i’ve not been looking at what i should be — Jesus, the author and finisher of my faith.

Let your eyes look straight ahead,
fix your gaze directly before you.
Make level paths for your feet
and take only ways that are firm. 
Do not swerve to the right or the left.  - Proverbs 4

tonight i sat on a black wooden floor while i waited to go on stage to perform a scene and thought of how awful i’ve been at trying to do this life thing on my own.  tonight while we drove home and i spotted deer and we laughed at awkward stories i thought of how tiring it is to feel like you’re doing everything the wrong way.  tonight while i sat on a darling porch with some of the most precious people in the world to me i looked around and felt like i was failing them — but mostly like i’m failing Him and His good testimony.  tonight while i laid on my yellow sheets and wallowed in all of my awfulness i suddenly started humming a verse from Lamentations. tonight i was reminded of what peace is found in His Word.

and tonight i was reminded that i can wake up tomorrow and not be discouraged — all of today’s mistakes are behind me and with Him as my focus, i can start afresh in the morning.  tonight i found myself hopeful again that with His strength and power, i can get back on track and do this thing right.

“The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases, His mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; greath is thy faithfulness.  The Lord is my portion, says my soul, therefore I will hope in Him.”

2:40pm and i’m going home for the day.

with the click of a button i accidentally changed my theme.

now it’s pink.

technically i think people would say i’m getting too old for such looks.

but i say that i should have fun while i’m still young.

i’m in a musical.

opening night is tonight.

i’m in the mood to eat cheese danish.

perhaps i should try making it at some point.

if i could be anywhere right now i’d be on a boat somewhere.

of course i’d take you, my dear reader.

i decided something this morning as i left the house with my hair in disarray and make-up-less for the thousandth time in a row since i only give myself enough time to shower and throw clothes on before i leave.

i decided that i’m tired of being tired.

that’s all.