louissa sinclair

i dehydrated myself.  well, i live in a constant state of dehydration, but you know how i get after a long day out and i’m on my way home feeling dizzy and sick, only then to realize that all i’ve had to drink is hot chocolate and coffee.  yeah, it was pretty rough.

stuttgart is two and a half hours away from here and was so lovely.  lots of shopping and lots of starbucks.

it was a fun day.

. . .

louissa, you should’ve known better.  didn’t you make the same mistake just a few months ago?… louissa, i think you’ve already learned this lesson a few times now — don’t you think you can just try to get past this?… oh louissa, how could you do this AGAIN?

i say something rude because i don’t think before i speak, my ridiculous emotions take control before i can stop them and then i feel horribly stupid, i think terribly mean and critical thoughts about others, i reply to sarcasm with complete attitude, etc.

and even though, for years now, i’ve done these things and tried to get past them, i’m still struggling.  i guess it’s a constant battle — one i’ll have to daily ask my Lord for help in.

*sigh*

life is so depressing at times.

i’m just thankful for a friend who i can talk to late at night while we do a puzzle together and we talk about struggles, overcoming weaknesses, and repentance.  yes, i’m very thankful.

. . .

although it’s only reaching 6:00 pm for you, i’m almost up to midnight.  to bed i go.

most have gone off to paris, spain, and trips all over germany.  there are sixteen of us who stayed here.  we slept in, had a slow breakfast, and listened to my music while we finished some old testament journals.  we goofed off with my camera, tried to put a puzzle together, and wrote random words using scrabble pieces.  our life has really come to a slowdown and i like it.

and i’ve decided that no matter how much i love being here, i keep…

i know, cheesy and sappy, but i think of my family and friends often.  getting surprises in my mailbox, lovely emails, and reading things like this make the feeling all the more… present.  but don’t stop — those are the things that keep me going.

. . .

photos here.                                                                  

today was long and hard, but good.

today i wandered the countryside of Fishbach.  i felt like Maryanne from Sense and Sensibility as i went from one small backroad to the next, following the orchards and making my way through trails in the forest.  i had no destination and no purpose in the steps i took; i wandered aimlessly, caught in my thoughts and inner conversation that was going on.

today i felt forlorn and worn.  i felt bruised and beat up.  i felt exhausted and alone.  i told myself that my heart had dealt with enough over the past few weeks and it couldn’t take much more.  i had endured enough poking and prodding of the Holy Spirit and unveiling of areas i liked to keep hidden and i was tired. 

today i almost cried out, “why me?”  but i knew that it wasn’t just fate that had a hand in this, but One who is my Refiner.  He reminded me, “you asked for this, didn’t you?”  i kept on walking, refusing to voice what we both knew to be true.  i finally uttered the words, “You never told me it would take this long and hurt so much.”  i admit, i asked for this; asked for Him to work in my life, but at times i feel like backing out of that request.  it’s the idea that He is slowly chipping away all the dreadful things of my heart, but it hurts so much, takes so long, and most of the time it all has to be repeated because i mess something up.

today i cried as i looked up to the sky and whispered, “Yes, but Lord, i’m so tired.”

. . .

today i walked for over an hour.  i thought about the last six weeks and all that the Lord has been doing.  i cried as i struggled through things, released things to Him, and felt a peace like never before. 

today i came back and saw a package from my family.  i cried when i saw how much it cost to send it, i cried as i saw thanksgiving decorations and candy, i cried as i saw a crumbled cookie from a church function that my little brother wanted to send, i cried as i read a lengthy letter that i loved from my youngest sister, i cried when i saw a favorite magazine in the mix (Garnet Hill), and cried because i felt so special and loved, and i just cried.

and it was so good.

. . .

well, now that i’ve made myself sound like an emotional rollercoaster and a spiritual woo-woo — i think i’ll go.

it’s snowing in different areas around me.  not here, but around.  it snowed in the Black Forest (twenty of our students are there right now) and yesterday the Swiss Alps were covered.  today, the fog decided not to come and we could actually see the mountains. 

it was fifteen minutes before dinner and i noticed how clear the view was.  my roommate grabbed her jacket and i, well, my two sweaters.  we ran downstairs with our cameras and passed a group of guys who had been working all afternoon.  in our excitement we managed to squeak out the fact that we were going to go take pictures and a few decided to join us.  we quickly made our way to the camp ground that’s next to us (the best place to take pictures) and that’s when we first noticed the fence.  i guess they closed the ground and now there’s a skinny tall gate (over 6′ tall) that moved when you gently placed your hand up against it.  my roommate and i looked at each other and guessed we’d not get any pictures that day.  the boys urged us to climb it. 

you do really stupid things in foreign countries.  like climb over fences only to realize later that technically you’re trespassing.  it was rather fun though — we almost fell off of it.  that’s what happens when there are two of you trying to climb over the top at the same time.

but hey, we’re fine, no one called the police because we were somewhere we weren’t supposed to be, and we got great photos.

edit

it snowed this morning right after breakfast.  we all ran out — some in flip-flops and others in slippers (for example, me) to enjoy the first snow here on the bodensee.  for half of us, snow is nothing new.  in fact, most of the canadians have reports from home saying that their younger siblings have already had snow days.  obviously, snow is nothing novel to me either, but there is nothing like seeing the expression on another’s face when they’re experiencing snow for the first time. 

Isaiah is from Kenya.  he has a wife and two young children at home.  he is a pastor and his church meets in a tin building with dirt floors, which is a step up from the tree that they used to gather under.  every sunday morning, in order for dust not to be kicked up, they sprinkle water on the floor to harden it.  he speaks english slowly and even then it’s hard to understand him.  but he smiles and says, “God bless you” to everyone he passes.  in lectures he wears a coat, hat, and scarf.  they don’t match and they look rather old and worn out. 

Isaiah has never seen snow.  we were all in the front and everyone kept asking, “where’s Isaiah?”  we all wanted him to see snow so badly.  a few minutes later he ran out in a t-shirt and a borrowed pair of crocs from his roommate.  his grin was huge and he ran around the parking lot, ecstatic over the snow that was falling. 

i loved it.

. . .

I didn’t hear you leave
I wonder how am I still here
And I don’t want to move a thing
It might change my memory

i do have lots on my mind, but sitting here and writing all those little nothings sounds better than trying to put my thoughts into words that will in the end only come out a jumbled mess and not make sense to anyone.

the cemetery here isn’t just a green field with row after row of smooth granite and stone and trees here and there.  it’s a garden with a brick path to walk through and in the back of each tiny garden you’ll find the gravestone. 

many go there.  some to sit and look, others to plant flowers, some to cry — i saw it all today.  i saw a little old lady, all bundled up in her jacket and hat, sitting in her wheelchair with a potted flower and spade in her hand.  a younger boy pushed her through the gate and i wondered what had happened and who it was that she had loved so dearly that was now lying there.  i saw two girls and a boy my age walking out, hands in pockets, and noses red.  they looked distraught and i felt their pain.  there was an old man, bent over, as he made his way with the aid of his cane, heading for a certain section in the vast garden. 

i love watching people.

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at home i had a certain way i always took on walks.  after six weeks, i’ve found my way here.  through the country, over the bridge, through the path in the woods that passes two tin houses, and back into town.  it takes forty-five minutes and is beautiful. 

- - - - - - - - -

i walked into my room yesterday afternoon and found post-it notes stuck to everything with it’s german name on it.  my dear roommate heard me talk enough about wanting to learn german and decided to help me.  now to memorize them.  i’ve been trying out some words for over a week now and i don’t think i’ll ever sound german.  everytime i say something, my german roommate with laugh and say, “you sound so spanish!”  or “oh no, louissa.  that is not a french word!” 

so great, i have a spanish and french accent when i speak german.  that’s just dandy.