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July, 2008

  1. ramblings…

    July 29, 2008 by louissa

    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.


  2. July 28, 2008 by louissa

    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.


  3. likes & dislikes

    July 20, 2008 by louissa

    i sat in a metal chair not paying much attention to the teaching on passion. i’ve heard it before, i’ll hear it again. but suddenly i couldn’t sit there unaware of what was really being said. what had come out of his mouth challenged the way i live my life. and i didn’t really like that.

    but really, i did. it’s good to be challenged, right?

    i sat in the drivers seat of my parents minivan talking to a sister on my cell phone about food plans for a Mumsie’s birthday dinner. i passed the cop and felt my mouth go dry, my hands start to sweat, and my heart start to beat a bit faster. there’s nothing like the feeling when you think you’re going to get caught for something you’re not supposed to do.

    i didn’t though. i’m lucky like that. and i like it like that.

    we stood in our new sitting room — all twenty-four of us or however many there were — and told our Mumsie why we like her so much.

    i like that time. i like that we do that. and i like that when i go elsewhere i’m finding that others have picked up on it.

    i ate chicken and salad and salt potatoes and bread. and then i ate cake with strawberries and blueberries and whip cream. then a few hours later i drove down to the newest establishment in town and ate poutine and apple crisp. and i felt very full.

    i didn’t really like that.

    i sat in a blue poncho on the front porch of my white house with a red roof. my feet that weren’t under the cover of the red roof were wet with raindrops and grimy from the dirt, small stones, and mulch they had picked up on my rainy walk. there was conversation, but not always. and that was okay.

    i like that.

    i swept the porch floor at the end of a busy day. a sister and an “add-on”, as we’ve dubbed the many people who spend a large amount of time in this house, played on the piano and sang and experimented and created and i listened along.

    i like that there’s always music.

    i’m in bed. with a sister next to me watching a family favorite, Law & Order, and i think of my day and how good it’s been.

    and i like that.


  4. the darling boy

    July 18, 2008 by louissa


  5. July 15, 2008 by louissa

    11:23pm.

    i’m finally home and i just started boiling water for noodles to settle the feeling of my stomach eating itself. my feet are sore, my mind is tired, and the idea of waking up to begin yet again another ordinary day is almost too monotonous for me to handle.

    but i tell myself to not live from one event to the other, but to live each moment — each day — and savor what it has to give me. i tell myself to give thanks without ceasing and to see His work in each boring just-like-the-last-one day that i might have. and to not be in such a rush for the next best thing.

    sunday night i left the sounds of the house (although they were lovely sounds of a guitar & ukulele and singing and laughter) and sat in the middle of our back yard. the dew covered grass soaked through my jeans but i didn’t mind. the fireflies danced about me and i gazed at the moon just wanting to be. i didn’t want to talk, i didn’t want to think, i just wanted peace.

    the tears came soon and they weren’t really surprising. i told Him that i was bored, i told Him that i was done being patient, i told Him i was done trusting that there really is a next step to my life, but there was no answer that my life would radically change the second i got up. no, just the gentle reminder that His timing is better — that His ways are higher and the way to go.

    right now i don’t see an end in sight to this season. i don’t have the next step mapped out, but i also know that the Israelites didn’t always have the Promised Land in their line of vision, but they continued on in faith and right now faithfulness is what i’m being called to.

    i must be faithful with what His given me. i must be faithful where i’m at. and i must be faithful in my trust in Him and His plan for my future.


  6. the requested update

    July 9, 2008 by louissa

    the alarm goes off at 7:30.  i finally get out of bed around 7:45.  after a quick jump in the shower, clothes are put on for the day, and i’m downstairs by 8:10.  i reach in the cupboard for the biggest mug i can find all the while annoyed with myself for my morning ritual of drinking the dark deliciousness and feeling rather dependent.  after eating a piece of toast or a piece of shortbread or a bowl of cereal or some fruit or whatever it is i find that morning, at 8:25 i run back upstairs to brush my teeth, grab my bag, and then i head out the door.

    i sit at a desk for the next seven hours answering phones, typing, and using a mouse that makes a knot tighten on the left side of my neck even more everyday.  i then walk home, change into tights, a skirt, a tanktop, grab my ballet shoes and leave the house.  i dance and sing for the next two hours, sweating profusely in a room on the second floor with no AC, frustrate myself with my dreadful pirouettes, have headaches from being dropped on my head by a boy, and really enjoy every minute of it.

    i come home tired and dirty and a bit worn.  i go to bed already dreading the sound of the alarm that i will, like every other morning, ignore for the first fifteen minutes.

    and so goes my world.