Author: jennygracespoetryandcreativewritingtechniques

I am a published poet and short story writer. I have been published in SNHU's the penmen review. https://penmenreview.com/author/jenny-andrews is the link where you can find my poetry and a short story. Currently, I am writing a collection of short stories, and a collection of poetry. I am trying my hand at writing a novel. Well, not a novel, actually. Make that two novels. My passion is writing. My inspiration is Franz Krafka because he managed to see the absurdity of life. Life is all about perspective and who is telling the story. We all see this life through the lens of our experiences. Literature should inspire us to think, to analyze, and to get lost in unfamiliar worlds in which we learn something new about this human existence. It is my hope that my writing challenges the reader to think, and to see a different perspective, as well as be entertained. My faith in Jesus strengthens me and gives me the courage to survive the twists and turns of this life. My faith influences a lot of my writing in that goodness always triumphs over evil, in that love conquers all. I hope you enjoy reading my blog.

Summer Reminds Me. . .

Just yesterday evening, I went to the new garden center that has recently been built not far from my house. If there is a garden center somewhere, be assured that I will go to it, and often.

Well, as I was browsing the plants, flowers, trees, planters, and seed packets, a packet with bright orange zinnias caught my attention. At that moment, I was transported back to a childhood memory of me and my daddy scattering zinnia seeds all over our front yard. The sunlight sparkled through the dense cedar trees at the edge of our yard, the stone path that circled around our front yard looked cool and ancient.

For a brief moment yesterday, my memory took me back to the mid-1960s when I was a child and all the world was safe and the summers burst forth in a kaleidoscope of brightly colored flowers, among them zinnias. Daddy still smiles at me down the passages of time, through the decades that have come and gone, and took him from me. He still is rooted deeply in my memory like a warrior spirit, always strong, always my protector. He exists forever, his hand cupping mine, pouring zinnia seeds into my waiting child-size palms. Those summer memories of my little finger digging into the deep, dark Georgia soil and dropping a zinnia seed into it has sustained me through the passing years.

Zinnias bursting forth in a colorful carpet across my yard remind me of love, of the absolute impact a father’s support and guidance has on a child. No matter what has ever happened in my life, the memory of my daddy encouraging me to plant those seeds in any way I wanted to, to think for myself, to decide what I should do, has sustained me. In planting those zinnias, he planted the seeds of confidence and self-worth inside his daughter’s soul. He told me to never let anyone tell me how to think, or what to think. He told me I am the decider; I am in control of my decisions. His words, like flowers, have taken root inside my heart and soul.

Yesterday, I planted my zinnias. Yesterday, I was reminded of the absolute importance of a strong, supportive father. Of course, he was not perfect; nobody is perfect. We all have flaws. But, in that memory from so very long ago, I remember him as perfect and that day as perfect.

Because at the moment in time, he was perfect.

And, that day was perfect. . .

Morning Commute: Prayer

This morning as I got in my car for my usual drive to work I decided to do something different. Usually, I turn on the radio only to get bombarded with a barrage of horrible news of apocalyptical proportions. It appears that the sky is going to fall on us all and. . .well. . .this and that is just terrifying. . .

As I turned my key to back out of my driveway I caught a glimpse of the sunlight filtering through the tree branches; I heard birds singing as they winged across the pale blue sky. The soft hint of jasmine caught on the cool morning breeze. Indeed, at least in my little corner of the world, there is beauty and peace. Why would I want to disrupt my joy by listening to the litany of bad news that some people have made a career on? Let’s face it, newscaster and politicians make a ton of money keeping us all at each other’s throats and keeping us afraid of living.

Truth is the world is a good place; there are good people. But, if you listen to the news (it doesn’t matter which station or which political party that is supporting it) you would think that all there is is death, evil, and destruction.

When in fact this is God’s world; he alone is in control.

So, instead of tuning into the usual fearmongering, I tuned into the Holy Spirit and I asked the Holy Spirit to accompany me in my day and to protect those whom I love and to grant me peace and freedom from anxiety, and to protect me and those whom I love from evil.

In my commute to work, I prayed to the Holy Spirit for all these things that make my life peaceful. I prayed for those who do evil, that their hearts would be changed and that they come to know the truth of God’s love, and peace.

On this morning commute, I felt at peace.

Right now, I feel at peace.

We have to be intentional in our life with what will move us forward.

Faith in God, Jesus, and the Holy Spirit will move us forward because we know that we are loved, that we are protected no matter what this world might throw at us.

Tomorrow morning, and from now on, I plan to spend my morning commute praying to the Holy Spirit.

I encourage you to turn off your radio, or I-phone, or whatever device you might use, and simply listen to the world around you, and to pray, and spend time with God, Jesus, and the Holy Spirit.

Put away your social media; unplug for a few hours a day. Go outside.

God’s world is truly beautiful.

You will miss the beauty if you continue staring at a computer screen!

Intentionally Happy

I know it might sound a bit strange to say “be intentionally happy” because we often think that happiness is something that happens spontaneously. And, it does from time to time, like a wonderful surprise. This is wonderful when happiness happens like that.

But, there are times when our moods and circumstances can sabotage us; there are times when outside distractions can rob us of our joy.

On this Monday, I have decided to be intentional with happiness; I have decided to push aside negative thoughts, anxieties, and concerns that drain me of my joy. I have decided to pencil in on my calendar this afternoon a nice leisurely stroll on the nature trail near my home. I have decided to pencil in on my calendar at minimum a two hour block to write my second novel “To Dust We Shall Return.” I have decided to pencil in time to sit back and enjoy this beautiful blessing called my life.

I heard someone say that we are all limited editions, that no one in the history of the world has ever been just like we are. In other words, no one in the past, present, or future will ever be exactly like you are. We are all unique spirits; this day is unique; it will never, ever come again.

We all have the same amount of time in a day. Prioritize your goals; mark them on a calendar and stick to it.

On this beautiful Monday, ask yourself these questions:

What do I want my day to mean? What is the purpose of the hours I have spent? What can I do to create beauty, happiness, compassion?

Go ahead and mark your calendar with purpose.

Be intentionally happy. Don’t wait for the feeling to come over you.

Just do it.

Be intentional with your happiness.

Go ahead, you can do it!

Calmness of Ducks

This life can get hectic; there always is something to worry about.

Bad news is limitless; gray clouds loom in the distance.

We hurt ourselves by allowing others to disrespect us in a variety of different ways; at times, we disrespect others by not acknowledging their basic humanity, whether intentional or not. Truth is as humans we are fallible; we are broken.

We are in need of rest; we are in need of peace and calm.

This need brings me to ducks on a pond.

The featured photo here is from about ten years ago. I had been walking on a nature trail around a pond with a heavy burden in my heart.

But, when I decided to sit on the grass and watch these ducks I got to thinking about how absolutely peaceful they are.

Truly, I wanted to morph into a duck (a mallard or whatever it is); I’m not necessarily an expert on bird names. All I know is that I wanted to imitate that calm.

I sat there and just enjoyed the day. I felt much more calmer when I allowed myself to just rest and let go of my worries.

As we approach this upcoming week, take some time to just rest, to find a moment of calm in your hectic day.

Dreams of Ivan: College Memory

Corn field. Yellow kernels trapped in green stalks. Earth, rich and dark, sent up its musky scent. Along a path in back of his parents white farmhouse, on a lazy Sunday afternoon after church in autumn 1981, he and I had walked along. Friends, we were, laughing and admiring the amazing blueness of that rural North Carolina sky and the cottony clouds laying low across the tree line.

Last night, after forty-one years, his pale blue eyes flash in a dream and awaken me, and warms my heart at that youthful place where we had once dwelled. Both of us on the cusp of the future; our lives with all its promise lay on the unchartered road laden with dreams that were ripe for the picking.

A foot and a half taller than me, I can still see him as I craned my head up to listen to his voice, and that smile of his flashed again, dimples and all. His pale blond hair fluttered in the autumn breeze.

At twenty, I pondered if it was love or if it was just friendship. Was it simple fondness? Or was I mesmerized by the beauty and gentleness of that gentleman?

So very long ago, four decades later, I recall our parting on the last day of our freshman year. He and I hugged goodbye. Somewhere tucked away in my heart, forty years later I ponder the what ifs.

Time passes. Memories fade. But, in the darkness when dreams ignite themselves in those quiet corners of our souls, memories of youth can awaken us. . .

Ivan, a sweet gentleman, dwells in that happy corner of my soul. In my dream, his smile reappeared and reminded me of a joyful moment of innocence, of friendship, of kindness, of a world that was simpler then.

Thanks, Ivan, for your friendship, so very long ago.

Acorns

Imperial palaces glint golden.

Gossamer blue butterfly wings descend,

downward to the rotting ruins of human hubris.

Antiquity,

arcs like a dome over disappearing dynasties.

Collapsing columns stagger beneath the sun’s eternally angry inferno.

In that dream, Grandfather turns to me and tells me our home had been on that ancient shore where the sea blindingly blue had deceived him as a young man.

With a sweep of his tanned, wrinkled hand he signals to that incomprehensible emptiness that occupies our American space.

Midwinter moon.

Grandfather, like mist, slips away.

Taking with him that last thread of my connection to that world time erased.

Daffodils

This world can be very ugly and often times we get discouraged.

My mama used to say, “If it ain’t one thing, it’s another.”

Unfortunately, that is true.

Truth is that right now there is this shadow of darkness over us. . .It is one thing after another.

Collectively, our hearts are breaking and I am not sure quite what to do with the pain.

But, I believe that there is still beauty in this world. There has to be; there just has to be.

Take time to spend time in a garden, to enjoy the beauty that is God’s creation.

Of course, it is too simplistic to even remotely entertain the notion that just looking at flowers will make the pain of this darkness in this world go away. It won’t, but if just for a minute, maybe looking at something lovely will remind us that goodness and beauty does exist.

It just has to.

Our hearts are broken in this world.

I believe that God will not and has not abandoned us.

Pray for peace; pray for healing; simply pray.

Remembering River Shannon, 2008

This is me crossing the River Shannon in the Republic of Ireland in October 2008. I cannot believe it has been nearly fourteen years ago. I was awed by the stunning beauty of the Republic of Ireland. I’d heard that the landscape was a variety of shades of green. I wasn’t prepared to truly take in the absolute breathtaking landscape and its shades of green. So beautiful. So breathtaking.

This was a dream come true to see that mythical place that had dwelled in my imagination ever since I first heard my father tell scattered pieces of family history about a distant grandmother whose family had originated in Ireland and ended up in the Colony of Georgia.

My family history is very fragmented. But, I guess, that’s to be expected since I am an American. Literally, my ancestors came from pretty much everywhere. . .

Next stop: Melos, Greece. . .Majorca, Spain. . .Sicily. . .France. . .Norway. . .Senegal. . .Alabama. . .Mississippi. . .Scotland. . .Austria. . .

It’s interesting to think of all the people who make us who we are at this moment in time.

When I was in the Republic of Ireland, I walked those cobblestone streets and I tried to imagine who those distant ancestors were. . .and what if they had never left that place.

What if?

Remembering Buddy

This is a photo of my poodle cocker spaniel mix. He lived to be 16 years and 22 days old. The little rascal went to the great beyond to be with my cats, Velvet and Sheba, in August 2016. My heart was absolutely broken that morning that I found him next to his water bowl. I knew his time was near, but it still broke my heart into pieces. I still cry when I think too much about him. He liked to curl up on the back of the sofa and stare out at the garden. He reminded me a lot of my cats to be honest with you.

He barely weighed eight pounds, but he thought he was as big as a German Shepherd. In fact, he hid behind a tree one time and barked really loudly at an actual German Shepherd who happened to be walking down the street. My little Buddy scared that big dog because his bark startled the big dog. Hah! Hah! I remember Buddy looking behind himself at me before sprinting back towards the step. I think he knew that his action may have been foolhardy.

So many memories come back to me during summer. I cannot believe that Buddy has been gone for almost six years. I planted two beautiful crepe myrtle trees in my yard in his honor near his grave. I know his spirit has gone on to that special place all God’s creations go to, but I still talk to him in early morning when I have my hot tea. I stand near the crepe myrtle trees and remember that sweet little dog that had a huge bark. I remember that sweet little dog that was absolutely obsessed with buttered toast. I kid you not, he would literally run into the kitchen whenever the toast popped out of the toaster. He knew it was buttered toast time! There are so many memories, so little time to tell them all.

I have adopted another dog. His name is BoBo. He is a dachshund beagle mix. And, he is total hound. He is loyal, energetic, and he has become my best friend.

I cannot imagine life without a dog (or a cat).

They just bring such unconditional love.

Unconditional love is seriously what we all truly need right now, and always.

Best Friends Are Furr-ever

Okay, I am making a play on words with “Furr-ever.”

These were my best friends, Sheba and Velvet, from over a decade ago.

They have both found their way to that beautiful place in the great beyond where great cats go. I can just imagine them lounging around in a field of zinnias, swatting at butterflies, and stalking whatever might move behind trees or bushes out there in the universe.

Some people argue and speculate about whether heaven will have animals. People argue and debate whether animals have souls.

Well, of course they do!

If you’ve ever spent five seconds with a sweet cat or rambunctious puppy nestled next to you, you know quite well that there is a soul behind those intelligent, expressive eyes. I feel at least 99.9 percent sure that heaven is brimming with all sorts of puppies. kittens, dogs and cats, (and probably horses, too). I love animals. In fact, our lives are enriched by the comfort of animals.

Sheba and Velvet were more than just animals. They were my best friends. Whenever I was sad, I could depend on their undivided attention and unconditional love. Whenever I gardened, they would be right next to me sticking their noses in the soil to see what I might possibly had buried! Whenever I came home from somewhere, they would meow hellos to me and expect me to scratch behind their ears. (It was all about them, of course!)

It has been many years since they were in my life; I hope that one day out there in the great beyond when my journey in this life is completed that I will see Sheba and Velvet once again. . .And I hope I will see all my dogs, as well.

I believe I will.