Summer time snow days

"I am lazy" these are the words that the tips of my fingers allowed to type over facebook chat to a dear friend of mine. Before I could mentally collect myself, and encompass the backspace key, my pinkie finger did the unthinkable and hit ENTER. My heart sank with the horrid thought of what he must think of me....there was an awkward long pause and then he chimed back "I love you Lauren". There was something so beautiful about that to me. I had a moment of 3:00 a.m. lack of sleep honesty, and my friend just took the opportunity to encourage me. He told me that night, that honesty is the most important thing. It isn't a lie, I am lazy. I just hate that I've let myself get that way. I have goals and I am passionate about many things...I just don't do anything about them. I am a walking contradiction: I hate snow, but love and regularly desire snow days. I have nothing else profound or deep to say, just processing things.

I am yours

Heartbeat quickens, palms grow sweaty, pupils dialate, my breath catches in my throat...you're in the room. I feel you, more than anything else I feel you. I felt you long before we ever met. I've waited for you. I've longed for you, I've cried for you. I smile....a deep real smile.

I write to the rythem of your soul

I dance to the tune of your drum

It's as if you not only know me,

but that you are me.

I blame you for all my shorcomings

I hate you only because you make me love you

I am weak at the knees

when you are near, I melt
You drive me crazy.

I long to fight with you

only in hopes of making up with you

You are my best friend

you are my worst enemy

You control me without tying

Who are you?

Who am I?

I know not who you are.

I only know I am yours.

These pieces of my soul

My name is Lauren Nicole Pyles, I am on a journey to find myself....this is what I've come up with.

Words are my muse, coffee inspires me to be stronger, and running sets me free.

I enjoy the act of painting, but abhor the outcome of my art.

Music is the key to my heart, but silence unlocks my soul.

I love to cry, but rarely ever do.

I want to adopt 12 children. (all teenagers)

Writing makes me transparent, bringing out things I never even knew I felt.

I have recently decided that I am very indecisive...I think

I am very deep, but lack the Passion to do great things.

I prefer vanilla pudding to chocolate.

My current greatest desire is to learn to play the guitar.

I have never been in love.

I am scared to death of failure....to the point that I don't even try.

I love rain, the feel of it falling on my face, the smell of it surrounding me, and the way that it makes everyday a better day.

I could listen to Kate voegele's "Hallelujah" all day, and never grow tired of it.

At the end of the day when my head hits the pillow, this is who I am. These are the pieces of my soul that make up who I am.

This pain that we often crave.

A deep mistake has been made in this day and age. Love has been romanticized. The rumor has been spread, the lie has been bought and the verdict is that love equals fun, easy, simplicity. I sit and wait for reality to come, for fatality to claim this lie, and for the truth to come in and sting like sand in an open wound. This thing, this human emotion we fantasize about and dream of and put our best face on for, is love. And love sits on a line between incomprehensible beauty, and a misunderstood loss of humanity, bringing one to the scary place of inhumanity. I only say "inhumane" because it goes against every selfish human desire. Love sells. It's commercials make it look fun, and exciting. There's a whole day, just for love. Everyone sends flowers and candy and that is somehow an adequate description of what love is. The candy is eaten the flowers die and at the end of the day has love really been communicated? In my opinion, love is pain. For some reason though, we crave this pain. Like a cutter craves the edge of the blade, lovers crave the sting of desire. They are desiring the very soul of another being, they fight each day for that soul, while all along knowing it will never be accomplished, for the only soul one owns is the one within there own body. This isn't meant to discourage, it's meant to encourage, to inspire, and to forewarn. Love isn't easy, it's hard and messy. Love isn't pretty, it's beautiful. Love is pain that you fear will go away.

My Declaration

"Who I am is a marathon away from who I want to be". I recently revealed this to God. His reply was merely "then run that marathon Lauren". I have so many hopes and dreams planted in my heart by the God of the entire universe. There is something so freakishly cool about that and at the very same time it scares me to death. I find myself failing on a daily basis, I find myself striving on a daily basis. I don't want a wishy-washy faith. I want passion! I desire to have such a fearless passionate love for my God....yet it's my fears that keep me falling. I fear that complacency has crept it's hand up into my very soul, and in an unfathomably slow manner, has ripped out every ounce of strength and real passion I ever had. I have sold my soul to the rantings of my own sinful mind. It's not God that I doubt, it's the fact that God would want to use me, that keeps me awake at night. I want to live a life of wreck less abandonment. I want to care enough about what God thinks that I don't care about what humans think. I want to love the unloved, believe in the weak, and cheer for the losing team. I want to smile when the rain comes pouring down on my head, because my God is sovereign and will soon supply the sunshine. And when the sun shines and I feel the warmth on my face I will look to the heavens in utter amazement at the God that I serve and at the forgiveness he gives.

My Confession

I think too often I let my fear of failure sufficate my abilities to succeed. I aire on the side of caution rather than passion.

Life is Real

I miss home. This doesn't happen often, actually I don't think it's ever happend. Ironically it's the simple things I miss. The green shag carpet, the dark pannel walls, the way it smells during the holidays, how it looks like 12 kids were raised there. I guess you could say I miss the innocence of home. In my room there was this hope chest in the corner that my grandpa made, I used to curl up in a blanket made by my grandma, sit on the hopechest and read a book while drinking a cup of my moms homemade hot cocoa. I too often complain about my sheltered childhood existance, when in reality I miss it. Don't get me wrong the long hair and skirts I will never go back to, what I miss is the wonder of thinking that people are good. Not knowing all the bad that happens, not just in the secular world but the christian world as well. I miss staying up late and talking to my sisters, about whatever new guy they liked. I don't know what exactly it is that's causing all these female emotions, but I kind of like it. It humanizes me in a way. Sometimes I just need to feel alive again. I've spent too much time forcing myself to be emotionless, not allowing myself to cry at movies, not allowing myself to feel pain, Henrey Longfellow once said "Life is real, life is earnest, and the grave is not it's goal." Life is real...that's all I got for today.