Where Dandelions Grow

Things must be broken in order to be made whole.

Can a seed grow on top of pavement? No. The surface is too hard. There's no nutrients. Nothing for the roots to cling too. It's only through the cracks that the dandelions grow, right?

At times can't we be as hard as pavement? Hard headed? Hard hearted?

Overtime something starts to happen. God allows certain circumstances to take place that leave us completely and utterly broken, our facades cracked. In those moment we cling to God, crawl to him on our hands and knees, begging, pleading Him to make us whole again and fix us.

As we begin to spend time with Him, seeds of God's word fall to our hearts. This time they don't shrivel up on our hard bitter exterior. Instead they fall through the cracks and take root in our souls. There they blossom and over time the seeds start to up root the hard pavement that once shielded our hearts. Turning it to dust.

From those ashes something so new, so beautiful blossoms, something we didn't know existed. A new wholeness that was created entirely by brokenness.

It is only in the cracks of our hearts where the most beautiful can things grow.

Writing Away Writers Block

I'm having a wee bit of a hard time finding words tonight, so I'm just going to write something. Anything. Just going to let my fingers hit the keys and see what happens.

 Proceed with caution. 

The raven was sitting on my writing desk when I walked in.
"Let me guess, Nevermore?" I said to ebony beast. It cawed at me in response, flapping it's wings in a weak attempt to intimidate me. But it didn't, nothing could intimidate me, especially this sorry excuse for a creature.

I walk carefully over to my bay window and fling it open. The cold fingers of the morning air caress my cheeks and play with my hair.

"Get!" I shout at the beast, "Get out!" I throw fist in the air and wave my arms. But the raven just sits there, its head cocked to the side staring at me with it's beady little eyes.

 "Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul has spoken!" I shout. A tiny trickle fear lands in the back of my throat. I can understand why Mr. Edgar Allen Poe did not like this bird. This stubborn, lazy, creepy bird.

"What is it that you want? Would like a snack, yeah? Wee bit of bread crumbs for your lips? Well I don't have anything for you." It continued to stare and I stared back. "I'll ring up the exterminator on you. Is that what you want? To be some french maids feather duster. It'd sure put you to good use."

What was with this thing? Why was it here? Why wouldn't it leave? It leaned down towards my desk and pecked at with it's beak. "Oi, don't do that. That's brand new." This time I go up and push a little with my hand, but I don't feel anything. I do it again and it reacts like it has been hit. But the feathers to not tickle my skin, and I do not feel the pain of the beak pecking my hand.

"What are you?" I quietly mutter. It's caw echoes in the high ceiling of my office. I could almost make out a word, but then that would mean I was crazy. It cawed loudly again, and this time I think I can make out something.
"Hide?" I repeat.
The raven nodded its head.
I froze and my eyes dart to the sealed envelope on my desk. For some reason I listen to this rare bird. I grab the envelope and hide under the desk.
The raven does not move nor does it make a sound.
But some other unidentifiable sound fills the air, one that sends a metallic taste to my mouth. The sound gets louder and louder until the windows shatter.
The sound is cut off by the ringing of an old fashion telephone. The sound was more eerie than the caw of the raven.

Two pairs of orange tennis shoes appear in front of me, I can see them from desk.
"Come out Lenore. Come out, come out where every you are." A man's voice coaxes.
I squeeze the envelope tighter into my chest and hold by breath. The must not see the raven on my desk or maybe the thing had the smarts to leave.

"Oh Lenore, you can't hide forever." The man says. "We will find you. It's only a matter of time."

"Ha." Laughs a different male voice. "That's funny. Time. What Lenore doesn't know is that the clock has broken. What is time anymore?'

I gasp too loudly, the two pairs orange shoes rush toward me, their arms rip me out from under the desk, taking the envelope from my grasp. But these men are the least of my worries.

The clock has been broken.
Time is collapsing.
 

Understand This

I don't usually watch the daytime new shows because I try to avoid all of the stupid biased gossip, but today I just had it on while I was cleaning so I didn't get distracted by watching something I actually liked.

Anyway, one of the ladies on the couch (Throne of ignorance) said something that really made me mad.

"Men don't try to understand women, because women understand women and they hate each other."

Seriously???? Women who hate each other obviously don't understand each other. You might not agree with them, but if you understand where they are coming from you should respect them in tha aspect that you are two different women and have two different opinions. Agree to disagree. I guess sadly not everyone thinks like that.

This angers me to the depths of my soul. Hate is NEVER ok. And understanding should not lead to hate, it should lead to well, I don't know, maybe understanding??? Seeing things from other peoples point of view is a skill everyone should have.

I may not agree with a lot of people, including other women, but even then I don't hate them, I may not even understand them, but there should never be a reason to hate someone. Especially over something as understanding. Which in my opinion should diffuse hatred instead of grow it.

Women should empower one another, society as a whole is always trying to label and put us down. Why should we do it to one another when we know how it feels. To me that is evil, how could you put someone down when have been that low.

In the Bible it tells us to love our enemies and pray for those that persecute you, so even if you do understand them and hate them more because you understand more then think on that.

Hate is unhealthy and holding a grudge is like drinking poison and expecting the other person to die while you rot from the inside out.

NaNoWriMo

So guys!! Its almost that time of year again! NaNoWriMo!

For those of you who don't know November is National Novel Writing Month, and I have decided to participate this year. It'll be the first time I've ever done it. I found out about it last year in December so I couldn't do it. But I'm really excited!

I would be lying if I said I wasn't nervous. In NaNoWriMo the goal is to finish writing a novel in 30 days, that's 50,000 words. What you do is make a profile on the website and submit your word count. Like I said before, this is my first time participating so I don't know enough about it to explain it well.  So here's the link to the website if your are interested.

But, now that I'm doing this, I think I'll start with a clean slate. A fresh story, New world and new point of view. Who knows? Maybe this will help kick start my creativity again because, I'm not going to lie, I've been in a little bit of a slump.

I was thinking of different worlds I could create. I was thinking of creating a world where you couldn't feel your emotions. You could only taste them.

Like mad would taste ashy and sulfuric.
Happiness would taste smooth and sweet,
Peace would taste bitter like a hot cup of tea in the morning.
Love, well, love would be hard. I had a hard time thinking of what love would taste like. Would it taste like fire, because of passion? Or would it taste like sweet, but obviously a different kind of sweet than happiness. But being it love is being happy, so maybe it would be a combination of the taste of different emotions. I'm not sure. Love is something unique to each person so I feel like it would taste different for each person as well.

This idea sounds really hard to write a whole novel in, so I think I'll just save it for like a short story or a poem. I'll be doing some serious brain storming over the next couple of days preparing myself for November first. Whatever is it I decide on writing, I'll be posting it on here chapter by chapter.

I'm excited! I can't wait to start a new project in a new world with new characters!

I just hope I can keep to this and actually do it, 50,000 words is a lot and I have a hard enough time as it is trying to schedule in writing my other project. Keep me in your prayers!

I will keep all of you posted! Also if you are going to do it, add me! A.S Lamoore 
With the caps and the dots and the space, in that order!

Pulling out my hair

Writing a book is a horrific experience. Filled with many late nights, many cups of coffee and I don't even like coffee I just drink it because it makes me stay awake. Not to mention aggravated parents because you stay up so late. Tears. And plenty of tears.

I just turned in seventeen chapters to my editor and I'm panicking. To me writing is something I do with every fiber of my being. I put my heart and soul into everything that I write and I know this draft isn't perfect so there will be some constructive criticism.

I never knew how close I was to being finished until talking to my editor. All I need to do is write and ending then I'm done drafting. Easier said than done. 

There is so much going on I just can't get myself to write my story. It feels like the world is trying to throw everything at me all at once so I can't do this. Writing is my escape, but it's like I'm locked in a jail cell, searching for the keys through the bars and coming up empty. 

If feels like I'm never going to finish, that twenty years from now people will come up to me and ask me how my book is doing and I'll tell them the same thing I've told all of you. "I submitted seventeen chapters to my editor and all I need is an ending." 

Oh God help, please. 

Eternity feels longer than Forever

"I have aged in the months since my husbands death and my diagnosis. My skin has the wrinkled appearance of wax paper that someone has tried to flatten and reuse. My eyes fail me often- in the darkness, when headlights flash, when rain falls. It is unnerving  the new unreliability in my vision."

These are the beautiful words of the talented Kristin Hannah. These are the words that made me realize that this life passes so quickly, its frighting. 

This was the second paragraph of the book and I just had to put it down. It painted such a vivid image in my head of what my future holds. It terrified me. I was so overcome with sadness at the thought of living long enough to see all my loved ones die. Of how my own body, that is so reliable and strong now, will one day fail me. My once perfect vision will fade and my strong legs will weaken and will need the assistance of a walker or cane. Will my mind fall apart? What if I couldn't write anymore? What if my eyes became so bad I couldn't read? What if I would become so weak I couldn't take a walk in the woods. All of the hope I held so dear to my hear of the future shattered in my grasp. I was afraid.

  I always made a joke that I will live to be one hundred because I want to experience all of God's gift he put on this earth before I leave it. But I never stopped to think what that would in-tale. 

We are blessed with maybe eighty years if the Lord blesses us, to live on this planet. Seems like a lot. But it's not. We are like may flies. One day here and the next day gone, dissolving back into the ash in which we were created from. 

So whats the point? What significance does my life bring? I agree with Augustus Waters fear of oblivion. There will come a time when everyone who ever knew us will die and it is like we never existed. 

When I walk outside, I think back through the ages. How many graves do I walk over? There was not always lush grass under my feet. God knows how many bodies died at the spots where I stood. And I don't even know their names. I feel like I owe those ghost something. I try to imagine what kind of life they lead when they were alive and honor their spirit silently, to myself. Because one day I'll be the ghost another far off stranger will be walker over, and I would want the same.

But as tragic and hopeless as this all seems.

 There is a hope.

Forever the dust of our bones will cover the earth, and even this world will pass away. But in our eternity we will sit by Jesus' side, in our true home. God's heavenly kingdom. You see after our bodies wither away and our souls are forgotten on earth. Our spirit will go to Him. As long as we invested in our eternity while we lived like may flies. Jesus died for us so we could escape from the fear of oblivion and burning in the fiery pit.

It's no joke. 

But you don't get saved from humanities curse by being a good person or just because you say you are saved. Or because you choose not to believe. Ignoring it doesn't mean it doesn't exist. 

"I am the way the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me." John 14:6

Jesus is our golden ticket to our eternity. Not only does He give us an eternity with Him. He makes our short lives in this world meaningful. We are called to be soldiers. To fight against the enemies evil plans, and to fight against our own flesh. We are ambassadors of the one True King. Spreading good news and guiding Jesus into the lives of others, saving their souls. 

It you don't think that is important then you have never been in the service of a King. Not only are we his soldiers, but we are His children. We are Princes and Princesses. Members of the Royal Guard. 

And to me, that's what makes our short lives meaningful. To work as hard as we can to destroy our selfish empires and expand His kingdom. So that when my time comes, when my vision starts to fail and my body weakens. I can wait in anticipation to see my Lord's face, to hear him say the words. 

"Well done my good and faithful servant." 

My thoughts on flaws

Flaws.

I hope you weren't looking for some inspirational post about how flaws are what make you beautiful and nobody's perfect and all that jazz. If you are, you have come to the wrong post.

As much as that is all true I'm going to talk about author flaws.

I was on good read the other day and I came across a review on John Green.

The review went a little something like this: (Its not word for word but its the jist of it.)

"I first read The Fault In Our Stars and I absolutely loved it. So much so I went on a John Green reading binge. But I was author blind. I read all his books and realized how flawed they all are. His characters voices in the books sound all the same. They are good reads but there is too many flaws."

First of all...NOOOOOOOOOOOO not all of his voices sound the same, yes they are all kind of that dorky, quirky personality but they are all different.

Second: ALL AUTHORS HAVE FLAWS IN THEIR WRITINGS!!!

J.K Rowling has admitted to switching rooms around in Hogwarts.

The classics that we praise so highly of are not even perfect, if they were why would they have annotated versions of them.

Gosh.

Plus John Green is my favorite so I had to defend him.