Time with George H Bush

The year was approximately 1978. I was flight attendant employed for Eastern Airlines and was working on a leg from Atlanta Ga. to San Jaun, PR. The first class cabin served one person that leg which is roughly 3.5 hours. The passenger was George H Bush, then The Director of The CIA and soon to be the USA republican candidate.

The aircraft was a Lockead L-1011. There were 28 seats in first class and he had occupied one. The secret service sat nearby behind him and in front of second class.

I was his personal F/A (flight attendant) that day. I was in my mid twenties and extremely ignorant of politics. But, I did know The Bible fairly well as I’d read it a few times from cover to cover.

It was hot that day and I remember that Mr Bush looked disheveled from his campaigning. He had been sweating and his white shirt was hanging out of his trousers from the back. He took a F/C seat and sighed from release from traveling. I offered him a cocktail but he requested iced tea. He sat quietly and relaxed before takeoff.

I served him his meal and put the supplies away. After my service he asked me for a bible.

“Yes,” I said. “We have a Gideans in the overhead bin.” So, I handed it to him and he opened it.

“Please, sit down. Do you have a minute?” Mr. Bush was a complete gentleman. And, he was reading my favorite book.

Delighted, l sat down.

“What do you know about Ezekial and the valley of dry bones?” He has piercing eyes.

I gave him a 25 year old response trying to sound brighter than my knowledge basis. “It’s about the war of Armageddon.”

“Yes, it is. Let’s read it.” He opened to chapter 37. He began to read out loud as I listened intently. “And, what do you think this means.” He was so kind and looked lovingly as if I was a daughter.

Mr. Bush and I finished through to the 39th chapter and perhaps into the first part of 40…

A few hours later, It was time for landing. Sadly, the conversation had come to an end.

I will never forget this time I spent with George H Bush.
True story

©2016 bonnie jennings All Rights Reserved

My mother and I about the age of my conversations with George

Sometimes God Whispers

Sometimes God Whispers, and sometimes He is silent. 

Silence is golden it’s been said.

When God talks to you, the body and mind come into one unit of sheer joy during the synchronization of the two separate parts of a person. Some have called this meshing of energies, “Goose bumps.” Anyway we see or experience God’s communication, it is an awe inspiring moment and during that moment life seems to stop. Life matters no more because the coming together or the meeting of our minds to God’s is beyond words, expressions or explanation. When it occurs, time dissipates and what is or remains, is a moment of pure clarity with The Mind and thoughts of Gods.

Hendrick ter Brugghen, Esau Selling His Birthright, c. 1627

So weirdly, at age 62, I dreamed, last night that I was pregnant. I felt terrified because, I knew, after experiencing child labor two times in my earlier years, I wasn’t physically able to birth this child that I was carrying. I looked down at my belly. It was huge! The skin around my umbilicus was tight and round. It was a 9 month pregnancy round. I looked up at God who said nothing, but He continued to work like a grand old surgeon does. And then, my first birth pang began. Horrified and vulnerable to His plans, I had no choice, but to surrender. God let them start. The thoughts of not only did I realize that I couldn’t physically give birth at 62, but the mental and emotional aspect for parenthood and raising another child was beyond my capabilities. The energy needed was greater than my reserves. I whispered back to God and said, “Please, no, I can’t do this.”

It, the birthing process, began anyway. God did not stop this birth. He didn’t speak to me, nor have eye contact. His internal presence and His will was understood by a fearce impression of I know that I know and there are or were no if this, and that, nor any whining persuasions using the words, but God.The horror of it all was before me and I knew what I had to endure His plan no matter what. I said, then, Knock me out! And the next thing I saw was an epidural needle. They placed it in my back after they rolled me to the side. I fell deeply asleep.

I awakened this morning at 0400, as I usually do, and remembered nothing, but that I felt happy. By the time 0600 came the memories of this dream began to creep back. I noticed my abdomen is unusual feeling. It is at this time, I realized that God whispered something to me in the night hours. Something occurred. I must wait, listen and heed as His whispers are revealed.

I suspect He has told me, that no matter how big the circumstance appears, I will go through it and even if I do not understand all things, it must happen. For our ways are not His. Trusting Him is the only way. There is no negotiation, no complaining, no pouting, no refusal at this stage of the game of life.

Earning the wings that I wear

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Earning the wings that I wear, 

Dutiful battles and wars not disbarring, 

The sight of suffering and smell of stench, 

The roads we’ve traveled often forgotten, 

The hunger for home, not resenting, 

The survival fought for mankind, 

My wings though grey with dirt, 

The fight has passed my thirst, 

But we continue forward, 

As soldiers do, 

Commanded by the Lord, 

Until we’re through.

 

Day 10: Authenticity

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“When they kept on questioning him, he straightened up and said to them, “Let any one of you who is without sin be the first to throw a stone at her.” John 8:7

Authenticity ~ Are we? Are we our real selves or do we hide behind labels, titles, beliefs or gods? Real; Am I, or are you? Do you believe that God wants us to be real (our true selves) or something that is described in a book or at church? Belief systems often tell us how we should be or look. Maybe TV, or a televangelist, or an ancient religious texts or thoughts from our grandparents, or something that we have studied and sought to achieve, may have influenced our choices. These avenues of influence that we adapt, but we aren’t necessarily supposed to become, overcome and mask the real you and I. So, the question is: Are we wearing a mask or have we adapted to a mold that is not intended for self?

The reason this scripture was chosen is for the reason of sometimes authenticity costs us discomforts and safety. We risk a secure part of nature that we’ve hidden from our true self behind a mask. It is cozy there and no one will judge us if we look and talk like the pack. We won’t be rejected, or disliked by fellow humans. It costs us something because we loose our authentic self and God sees us lost in another mans designs. Someone may throw a stone at us. This is not comfortable. So, as we work jobs we were not created for, or participate in activities that aren’t like our spirits we loose our authenticity…

Finding our authentic self takes years, but it is possible. It’s who you were made to be… You are unique and created for something greater than expected…. You already know this.

Day 9. Deducing Assumptions

Examine and deduce like a scientist who allows for grace and mercy
Examine and deduce like a scientist who allows for grace and mercy

“You who have tried to be justified by the law are alienated by Christ.”

Galatians 5:4

I don’t have to talk the same as you, nor do you have to think like me either. I don’t have to dress like you either, nor do you have to look like me. As a matter of fact, we can resemble Renoir or the opposite, Picasso.

You are free to be yourself. Please, don’t look like the guy on tv, and please, don’t talk like her either. I might judge you wrongly.

We all judge. It is innate, intuitive, god given and it is protective. However, while deducing a circumstance or person subtract your personal possibilities of error from the equation. Figure out the percentage of miscalculations or delusions that are made within your assumptions and subtract them from your/my judgements.

Deducing renders grace and mercy. The two are not in the absolutes of black or white judgements. Grace and Mercy are found in grey ares.

Then, I consider killers and murderers. I think they are subject to God’s hands; I’m not equipped to see the whole picture, lucky for them.

Day 3, They Labelled Me a witch…. :-( and I cried that day

Day 3

“When the  Lord brought back  the captives of Zion, we were like men who dreamed.”

Psalm 126:1

My lessons  in learning. “They labelled me a witch that day and I cried. Sadly, had it of been in the 1600’s or there about, they would have burned me at the stake.” 

Dreaming and being apart by choice from the one who loves unconditionally in the rotten state of purification, he restores to His vine a fruit with fragrant  blossoms.

What have I learned while sojourning the dead?

Most men are dead though they believe they live and life is found in belief and relationship to the creator. There is no life separate from him and he does not condemn. The serving of “other gods” are my wondering thoughts that do not allow His enlightenment. For in every topic on earth, God is. And, He is knowledgeable about everything including the forbidden subjects. He still  teaches me and I am grateful.

The only judgement is that of ourselves and non other, unless of course, I’ve worn their shoes for a lifetime. Judgement arises from fear of that which is not understood.

Stairway To Heaven Led Zeppelin

Second day

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The scripture I’ve chosen is one of those lines that can condemn; however, I’m going to apply it in a positive manner and only point it at me, myself and I. This will be one of those times one can write about the self and hopefully not have too many “sighs.”

So here goes my application of applied self to scriptures that can condemn.

It is no surprise that when I read this passage it clearly explained that teaching, preaching or giving scriptures to others are meant first for the self and if (this one in particular) directed at someone else is judgmental.

Having written this above statement please note that the verses mean something to me as well as others and is there for individual interpretation for self reflection. In other words, the meaning and content will be individually comprehended and the message given to me will not necessarily mean the same to you.

So I thread lightly when giving the words and use them carefully for myself.

“Woe to you experts in the law, because you have taken the keys to knowledge. You yourself have not entered, and you have hindered those who were entering.” Luke 11;52

How often have I created harm rather than good in the name of God. The way that I now interpret God is far different than the way I felt 45 years ago, which was a condemner, and now, I see him/God in a masculine/feminine presence  as a lover and encourager of mankind who loves all men and women no matter what their condition of their soul/ego maybe sojourning. Because he loves me, just as I am, so I know he too, loves you, as well.

So, having said all this, God and I begin again. This is my second day to reunite with my lord.

Celtic For The Day. Grasping The Hem of His Garment

Grasping God. To know him is to love him…

 

St. Patrick’s prayer in Gaelic 

http://www.irishpage.com/patrick/deercry.htm

Tearful and Demanding that God Send His Angels

Tearful and demanding that God send his angels
“To please minister to my sorrow”
However, no shape of a human angels came
Only 3 dogs with wagging tails so joyfully wanting to serve me.

Suddenly I laughed knowing that angels come unaware
And, God, knows my heart beyond comprehension.
Thus He sends his commissioned pups to love.
And, It causes me to cry, it causes me to know, it causes me to see that God truly does care.

So when you see a ferrel cat or dog wondering a lonely lonesome highway,
Then you must pick it up with love and knowing that ~
God sends the best human lovers He has.
They are simply cats and dogs that mother ~ God’s Lost people.
And, they travel frightening roads to find us.

The roads they follow are treacherously hot or cold.
But, nothing stops their mission.
They are sent by God to do a work.
We humans are their intentions and they bare many burdens.

They will not give up even under the cruelest reasons…
They are angels that we are unaware.

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My little JoJo
A White Wolf? This was a ghost seen from my late mothers back window of her home. I was outside and took the picture of this wolf thinking I saw her standing there. Instead it was a wolf's face.
A White Wolf? This was a ghost seen from my late mothers back window of her home. I was outside and took the picture of this wolf thinking I saw her standing there. Instead it was a wolf’s face.
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Kashi, when he was a street dog and was scruffy.
Bops my ferrel cat
Bops my ferrel cat
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My sons dog Javi, giving me love…
Atli, my sons cat
Atli, my sons cat

The Witchcraft of life

Performing our magic when it seems dull and impossible is a concentration of our wills.

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In quiet “boring” times,

When there seems to be nothing, but nothing, to do

It is then that we can create a masterpiece.

We illuminate the darkness that seems to surround us.

We make it our heaven, and if we lack vision we perish.

So, rise your wand,

Make your life, that which you’ve dreamed of..

Cause it to happen.

You can do it.

Believe, because you must.

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Make it as you envisioned and thought of yourself.

Before the world of voices told you, “no, you’re nothing.”

Don’t believe a word of it, the world’s lies, because it’s not truth.

You are exactly what you imagine.

Nothing greater or less.

It is how you think of yourself.

Your beliefs will lead you.

So, change your beliefs for change.

Cause your world if you so want.

You have the power

God gave it to you.

It is in the tiny mustard seed of faith that will move mountains.

How Many More Breaths

My grandmother
My grandmother

Time

tick-tock; tic- tock; tick, tick, tick.

Time.

WHY?

Nursing homes, memory units, family dispersed.

They ran when my hair turned silver and I smelled of urine.

Oh, this is The United States ~ who else in the world would leave?

What, a silly question,  after all, it was us the free-love generation who started this nonsense.

Really, in truth, we were the “me” generation. Misnamed. The irony makes me laugh.

We called our kids this. They were the product of the all consuming need to be free.

Mom and Dad split, time, after time, after time, all for the image of freedom.

“They’ll get over it.”

Yes, they have and assuredly ~

One plus one equals two. And, two times two equals four.

Physical laws don’t change without the atom bomb.

And, now is waiting.

Waiting, on my clock.

Quietly it tick-tocks; tick-tocks, tick, tick, ticks …

God, how many more breaths must I take?

Leaving Adam By Bonnie Jennings

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~

Leaving Adam

~
Eons advance and passed away.
Thought, theory, speculation and opinions, die.
Glancing through lenses, and squinting, at the sky,
Adam, pointing, at the twinkling specs, named the brilliant ballet.
 ~
 
So, following mankind, up the mountain,
And ascending a rocky path; we embarked.
My feet followed his, upward, to where the sky was arched.
His staff pointed, and the heavens, then filled me, as a refreshing fountain.
 ~
 
An advocate of The Father of Man, I desired what he sought,
Thus’ left the home of my family and upheld his zealous quest
Confidently, I abided and affirmed his every request.
Even, wore his belief’s; did just as he taught.
~
 
One day, dared I asked, Adam, the man of science,
How is Eve today?
And, if looks could kill, then Eve is dead, thus’ left us only, to pray.
Deceased, she is. He answered, with a chill of neglectful defiance.
 ~
 
Man of Science, I spoke so boldly.
At the mountain top; we stand
The stars, you named, and held, in your hand,
However, love you murdered, so coldly.
~
 
This day, I choose the mother
Her love, which first found me
Within the warm and welcoming spirit, in there, dwells she.
 And, today, I accept non-other.
~
 
So, progressing and moving towards her;
 Over, the cliff of doubt, rapidly grabbing her hem, I aim.
Because, after carefully, considering your treacherous, pains,
There, in her grace ~ I seek her, safe harbor
~
 
I choose faith, that which, I cannot see. 
 
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Contact, opening scene
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My final Dream 2014. I was awakened by a messenger

It being the end of a another year, thus, I sent out to my god and my angels, a prayer. That is: I need change and a new directional path, and I need it, now. “Post haste,” as daddy use to say. So, having said this to a dear friend, who is also a warrior  on the phone last night, and then, going to sleep soon, thereafter, was awakened, before 3 am. I had a series of nightmares.

Dreaming and entering because we choose to fight our human battles...
Dreaming and entering because we choose to fight our human battles…

There in the middle of the fury of dreams, I found my peace. My sister was with me to help me escape, as she always has, in our lives together.There, in the middle of of the nightmare, being raped and sought after by many men and devilish souls, I panted in fear. But we, my sister and I, locked, bolted and hammered all doors shut. However, I couldn’t escape from their war, except one way. I disconnected. I found within me the place of peace and in that place the outer world fades away and there I am safe from any harm. Though, i can not take anyone with me, I leave my sister warrior behind fighting for me. And, in that place, the hell on Earth and memories of it, dissipate. My sister is left to do the battling alone. She chooses to do this for me. I want to take her with me; however, she may not enter. She must find this place on her own just as every human soul must find it alone. Perhaps she knows about this quiet place amidst the beautiful scenery of anything desired. Maybe she is showing me the way. I don’t know her way, I only know my own.

You see, I found this place many years ago. I was 16 years old. I am 62 now. In that place I heard a friendly kind voice. I have heard the voice many times before. It gave me a message. He, the voice was male. He said. “write, from your heart. Write the truth and do not cover it up or make flowery excuses. Just simply write about, what you know, as truth. Don’t skip or jump around your truths, your path, your beginnings. Tell them about the other world. Tell others how to find it when in the middle of storms. Write it all down. This is what you’re called to teach.” 

Now, I really didn’t want to get out of bed. It was warm and comfortable. And, I didn’t want to write about sadness and hardships. No, truthfully, it was before 3 am and I wanted to go back to bed and sleep peacefully.

“Now, get up and start writing what you’ve learned.” He said. This is your beginning of 2015.

I said, “all right, I will write only my truth, but the outer world is so painful.”

He nodded, in agreement, that the outer plane, which hovers Earth, is tortuous, grievous, grey, bleak, often harmful and lastly, painful for many and is not the place called heaven. “Help others and yourself to find this place. You have been there, and know the way. Teach it. It is easier to make jokes. Laughter hides pain and sorrow.It is in pain and sorrow that one becomes purified.” He smiled gently.

And so, I agreed to start writing my notes.

Though, they, my memories, will be discombobulated, they are my experiences. Finding Elysium, finding heaven on Earth, is not impossible. This is my 2015 plan sent by a messenger dressed in beautiful gauze and had a long beard of silver and snow and eyes as alive as the rapids in a northern river… This is what he told me to do. Having written the reasons of why I must tell my journey must say, I do not want to write this. I don’t want to visit my past, I do not want to blame, point fingers, to shame or harm anyone. For these reasons, I am reluctant to tell my story.

This reluctance is because the human race must point a finger at the causes of imperfections and tainted unlovely lives. Truthfully, the blame is circular. It never ends, but will find it’s origin in the story of the fall of mankind in The Garden of Eden. And, this is the truth, even if, you declare, it’s not your truth, it is. The fall of man was the beginning of pain and torture for the human/hybrid species. We were made in the image of god. We were created by fallen angels (The Nephilim) and god made a new way for us. Mankind excepted the dragons of fire, and there is no other argument. Done! There in the garden is found the reasons why mankind will never reach Narnia, Elysium, or Heaven, on his own.

I am not writing about the redemption story, though it is important. It only serves to receive the blame. If a reason why is to be asked, then, cast a blame on Eden with an imperfect finger of human judgement. The finger that’s pointing doesn’t recognize its own blemishes, sins and mistakes. It only see’s flaws in the “fruits” of others. How many times have I heard or read, “we can’t judge, but we can be fruit inspectors.” So, this statement stands alone, and is why, we will not reach Narnia.

Now, I’m dragging my feet. I don’t want to begin with my story. I’m afraid. The fears are from this Earth and have nothing to do with god, but mankind is harsh. Mankind is a ferocious judge. But on the other hand, who cares? Do I? Yes, bottom line, I care what others think or believe of me. I care about my reputation and the legend of my family. I care to uphold their name and honor. I care about them. I said, blaming is circular and goes back to The Garden of Eden, and it does. So, the sins of my ancestors continues and my children will point their finger at me, and tell of my sins and imperfections. But, I would be the first to admit, that I have failed horribly, as a mother. I have not loved unconditionally. I have put myself before my children, yet, I believe that I would die for them.

But, dying is much easier than living for them, isn’t it? After all, dying is escaping the tortures of living day in and day out. Excepting nighttime, thunder, lightening, hail, ice and temperatures too hot or too cold, are much harder, than taking the last breath into freedom. Wouldn’t you say? Perhaps, I am, blaming The Fall in The Garden of Eden, as well. But, this life is filled with spots, stains and imperfections are all around us.

No one escapes. It is here, at this point in my story, that I must be say, there are some who strongly declare, this doesn’t pertain to me. I am flawless. I do no wrong. I have a perfect past and a white picket fence, now, that surrounds my life. I would say to you, then, you already live in Narnia or Elysium and this story isn’t about you. My suggestion is to go on with your life, as it is, and don’t peer inside mine as the dragons assigned to me might become your own. Or perhaps, you’ve never actually met your demons. Because if you’re a member of the human race, then, at birth you had entities leading you away from The Garden. And, if you haven’t met the devils or been led far from the gates of The Garden, then, continue onward. Proceed on your path of doorknob hanging. Do not wander far away from the handle. But, hang on for your dear life and be thankful that you, know better. Or do you, I ask.. But on the other hand ~ playing The Devil’s Advocate ~ must tell you, find your war. Overcome it. Learn everything god wants you to know, so that, you will become a mighty valiant warrior. And having boldly said this, know that warriors die in many battles. Only to rise, again and again. Learning, along the way, the mistakes of war and the casualties of other’s lives, that we may have damaged, aware or not, these mistakes must be reconciled before continuing on in our wonderful journey called living. In some small way, if not, huge, our unintentional  mistakes, completed along our way, may have destroyed someone else. In rectifying our mishaps, we become stronger and the next crisis, war or battle, which will come again, guaranteed, we will be stronger, more courageous than ever were before… And, then, perhaps, another warrior will be encouraged, while healing, from a battle of their own, and there on that battlefield we can lend our grace because grace was generously handed to us…

This is a good lesson, and I know god chooses the weak, to make them strong. He chooses the lame, deaf and dumb to confound the wise, he uses fearful men to make giant soldier’s, He uses our human frailties to make us his own. So, those who hang onto the doorknob of heaven, may I challenge you to jump into the fight. It is the fight, war, battle for your previous generations and those who succeed you throughout eternity.

Now, after skirting and dancing around my own story, I will to begin…. My heart races. Here I must deep breath and begin… Some of you might be asking me, what gives you the rights to say these things? The answer will be found in my story. Another question maybe, do you think of yourself better than the rest of us? And, truthfully, I tell you no, I don’t. Next question, then why should I read on? This is your decision, but I don’t think you’ll be disappointed.

The only answer right now, that I will reveal is the fact that I have been in solitary confinement at an early age. Later, I stayed, 2 more times in a place of complete aloneness for 6 weeks, more than once, and lesser times later. Now, That I’ve shared this part of my life, please, stay with my story, as I explain why and what came from those experiences.

I was reluctant to be born. The year and date: October 9, 1952, New Orleans, La, USA.In fact, I begged not to come. I recognized these thoughts were on my sons face as he entered the world December 12, 1983. He, too, didn’t want to enter this plane called Earth. My daughter, she too came May 23, 1980. She is another mighty knight.

Bonnie 2014 The face of a warrior
Bonnie 2014
The face of a warrior

Writing the beginning and knowing what is to come, is difficult, so at this point, I must rest, and gather my thoughts. Thank you for staying with me up to this point and reading. I do welcome any thoughts, questions and kind comments… Also, please note, I wrote this hastily. I wrote as the messenger told me to do. So, having said this, I realize there are grammatical errors, spelling mistakes, and other flaws. Please, feel free to contact me and let me know.. Thank you and have a happy, safe, peaceful, healthy and prosperous New Year 2015. May God reside with all…

Supernatural Journey (a short story)

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While dreaming in the midst of a stormy night, booming lights from the electrical bolts slashed dashing across the walls of my bedroom. I hid my eyes from the frightening waring images made from the shadows.
Miserably, I disdained my life and I, thankfully, welcomed sleep. I hated everything that God gave me and the thunderstorm came to punish me. I was certain that His wrath deliberately chastised me. Surely the grim reaper stood close to my bed. I felt his ominousness cold breath. The rumbling thunder and magnetic energy surrounding my lying body, ushered me into a sleeping journey back into time..

When sound asleep, suddenly, I heard in the distance ~ “the sounds of war?” Bombs and the shaking of the tin shelter where I hid crammed with others, whom I didn’t know. Oddly, they knew me, and there we hid tightly pressed together.
“I must have travelled back in time?” I thought.

They spoke in a foreign language. It was Polish. Everything was gray there, including their battle worn faces. The wrinkles bore sad lines of desperation. Their bodies were almost skeletons. And, I wanted to run, but when I started to leap, they held me.
Then, screaming, “no! Let go of me! Please!” I escaped only to see armed men coming my way! I caught my breath. There, in the dark of the night I saw a sign which hung swaying in the freezing rain and blustering wind. The metal sign creaked “Warszawa, 1943.” I knew where I was… The horrors of death were everywhere. Bleakness and freezing weather, trapped innocent victims.
The enemy soldiers started to grab me, but ~
I prayed that God takes me somewhere else other than WWII, Poland.

So, He granted my wish.

Rolling in the dirt, in fear of The Nazi’s, I was thence transported somewhere else in times past. Here the air was humid and the smell of death and blood permeated everywhere. Flies, fleas and moans came from dying men were everywhere.

I heard, “help me. Please, won’t you help?”
A man lay there in the brush. He was in gray and I was in blue. By his side a rebel flag was standing next to his bloody broken body.

“Where are we?” I asked.
“You don’t know?” He puzzled at my daze. “Mississippi.” He looked at me as if I was mad and he had disdain on his face, even though he was dying.
So, I reached out to lift him away from the fighting as all good men do. It was then, that I noticed my skin was dark. I was a large Negro man. I, aghast, thought, I’m in trouble now. Here I am, “a colored man,” centered on a battlefield in The Civil War. They will kill me. I will die. Now, more panicked than ever, I surrendered to my fear. How then, my old life seemed kind and benign in comparison to Warsaw and Mississippi.

I petitioned God’s help. “Grant me my own life, once again.” Sobbing from the deepest part of my being, concluded that he did not grant my request.

Then He transported me, again. I found myself sitting on a piano bar singing loudly. There was a sign hanging across the wall of the smoke filled bar. It swayed back and forth as the room seemed to move erratically. The sign said, “Welcome Molly Brown.” The crowd applauded and I smiled, warningly. The spotlights were in my eyes. A second passed. I noticed the calendar displayed on the wall said, “4.15.1912.” Gasping. “I’m on the Titanic.The night it sinks.” I whispered with dread. I knew, soon these lives and Molly Browns would be recorded in history. They were unaware and I was petrified. The iceberg floats before us. It will sink this ship and most of the applauders will soon die. Mortified of knowing the fate, I froze.

If I could change the course of history in Warsaw, the battlefield in The South, and on The Titanic, I would. If there wasn’t any goodness within me, then my travels changed me. All three places taught lessons: thankfulness, empathy and compassion. “God, I know, I understand. I’ve been selfish and unappreciative of the mundane circumstances in my “pathetic” life. I’ve been blessed all along and so ignorant.

With the final confession, I awakened in my own skin. It was my room and correct time…
My worldly travels were enlightening and my lesson? i will not murmur, grumble nor whine ever again.

Photo on 1-28-14 at 4.26 PM #3

Nothing But White Lies

It all flowed together so smoothly. Like a perfect image, of a handsome desirable home, with a white picket fence surrounding this quaint cottage. Framed with beautiful flowers everywhere ~ so are many stories similar to this one.

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This story, is of smoothing things over.
This story speaks of little white lies. Often spoken in humorous tones of voice, one hastily jests ~
Oh, well ~ we all do it. No, big deal.

Then, we mock phrases that aren’t truths either.Hell, it never hurts anyone.

Or, does it?

Yet, the lies presented in a palette of vagueness are simply, tall tales. Non-truths created to cover the picket fence in more, and more white wash.

Layer after layer, white after white, one stroke, each time so delicately brushed, that was, in the beginning. At first, it was   whispered. Spoken in deliberate calculated lies as his  smile expressed his own pleasure. She didn’t notice his cold blue eyes, his narrow lips that slightly turned up in the corners. if she had seen him, as he truly is, then, she would see his pride. The story of hunting her soul, and the fact, he lived in the home with the blooming flowers, until the colors of their bouquets lost their beauty.

He chased away the bees in his mad jealousy. When the bees disappeared, then he too, only dreamed of the next garden’s odors. The next place to lay his head on a down pillow, and only the best, for it’s season of glory, will also wilt from the rays of the hot summer sun. For fall will come, and coldness of winter is on the horizon.

So, innocent was the white fence in her vain glory she portrayed, to all. The observers watched the paint covering her. She was unaware of truth, throughout  the years. They knew her  innocent naiveté would one day turn, the unsuspecting, from white into dark grey.

Because ~ after a while, after a time the painter, the creator of the tall tale, wearies. The sociopath is no longer amused by their adrenalin bursts.  Their white lies aroused them like a drug, which no longer excites them. So, they become sloppy with their painting of fences.  And, soon, their palette, once beautiful, appears, not so pristine, after all.

The passer-by’s notice the cracks left without white-wash and the inconsistency of the painter’s strokes. But, for some reason, they pass by the fence, they keep to their own business, and let the white picket fence, fade to a grey frail border that surrounded a charming cottage. It once bloomed an array of colors with aromatic flowers. Perhaps, they pass, by because their white picket fence rotted, as well, and their flowers had, too, disappeared.  The fragrance of the blooms and the honey bees moved to pollinate a new-found quest, a new adventure.

And so, she asks, to whom does the vague ambiguities hurt? The answer is found when examining the fences. But, there hidden in the weeds, see, growing over the top of sour grass seen behind the grey fence is  a strong red rose.

 

Painting by Bojenn

 

My Dream

The dream:

The path that I followed in the desert dissipated under my feet. Then, three old friends joined my side. Their names:

Faith, Hope and Love. 
They said, “we will escort you. Do not fear. God is with you in the forest deep and dark. Every man must go alone. You must trust.”

An entity named Trust,  took the lead. I began the journey, following it.

The forest was dark and deep and the trees, like all forests, have dead trees that are equally as important which was shown to me. Vastness and the growth gathered together become one place called The Forest. Some trees are young, green and full with several shades of green and some are old and rotten. They serve as homes for the rabbits and raccoons. However, together the enormous group of all types of trees are synergistic and without the totality of the different types: old and young, light green and dark and thick and thin, the forest would not be complete. It seemed they all have a role. None are common, even though, some appear handsome, some grand and some quite irrelevant, all make for what I defined, as Eden. Despite their outward appearance, in totality, they represent the whole called the forest. In The Forest are life lessons.

~

This is when, I decide to wander into the jungle of trees, so dense. The trees and the thickets called me by name. They knew me. Whispering wisdoms and truths, I can’t resist their call nor the hypnotic beauty they have. I must wander inside. To some who live in the desert, the forest seems mysteriously evil and frightening. But I find it breathtaking, alluring and magnetic. I belong here inside this lushness and greenery. This has always been my home, my roots, my beginning. Again, I am a child that has returned to my origins. Simply, there is no other choice. The heat of the years in the desert caused me to wilt. The forest of lush green life will restore my soul.

The temperature dropped as the shade of the canopy of trees welcomed me back. The coolness of shadows and the humidity embraced my body. Comfortable now, as the parched desert took a toll on my skin. My face shown, in the cool spring water in which I peered, as leather. The sun did what it was suppose to do and cooked the human quest from me. The heat was the “refining fire” that The Bible, explains. Frailty and a withered reflection reflects from the gentle waving cool waters of the spring. I look at myself, in it’s mirror. 

THEN ~

The tropical birds flew by my head!  “Oh my!”
I forgot about them and their array of colors. Greens to match the forest, oranges to show god’s revelations and blues to give inspiration. Smiling at the gift of colors, I moved forward through the limbs and undergrowth.

I came upon ~

The monkeys who did not trust me. So, they watched everything I did; my movements, my glances, my pausing and my nodding of hello to them. They, suspicious of my intentions, good or bad, would find out my purpose. This fact, I knew as they were the guardians of food and accommodation  I greeted them honestly with a nod, “hello, I mean no harm.”
They let me pass, for now. However, they did not offer me food. They ate the fruit which their many bodies protected. “Food will come later, maybe,” so, I hoped. I was hungry.

The flying creatures of the forest flitted contently from flower to flower, from creek to the water falls splash. Amazed, I stood watching. Delighting, in the beauty and coolness, which those in the desert, so feared. Bending down by the water’s edge, I cupped my hands and drank the fresh cool water. To my surprise, I drank with another animal. It shared. This was the rule of the forest. The rules were not written or displayed. But, the rules were understood within the heart of everything that lived. And, if the rules were not abided by, then, the creature was expelled to the desert with  “the humans.

The humans, I dare say with trembling fear, captured, enslaved, ate and killed them for sport. The humans were considered, the “demons.” The humans are to be feared. And I, a human, in their forest, recognized the fact, I am an intruder. But, they will allow me passage, for a while. I will have to prove my integrity as a creature of God’s. I knew this truth. 

Then ~

Needing a rest, I sat at the edge of a tree’s roots. Before falling soundly into a coma of sleep, I noticed the multi-colored green moss. It was damp, cold and sprung to new life. Small and delicate, the tiny leaves of multi greens invited me to observe it’s world. I looked harder, further, and magnified the mosses world in my imaginations. I saw another place, another home for strange odd life which was microscopic to human vision, but in the forest, I could see the tiny world as alive as my own. “Fascinating.” Much different than my own, but also, dynamic, I saw and watched their world. They moved in a simple method, But it was their own way. There doings was purposeful. They seemed happy, as far as I could tell… After all… I’m not the judge or giver of life.

Submerging then into a deep sleep ~ 

I’m aware though tired and almost comatosed, a man stands by my side as I sleep. He is familiar. He is a quiet male entity or being. Next to my lying body, he stands with dowsing sticks. I awaken and watch. His sticks circled around and around, then, rested pointing west. With a look to the west, his eyes said, “get up child,” then he pointed and said,. “this way is best.”

This time, I chose not to rebel. The last time I said, “No,” I was his teenage daughter. This time, I will listen. Though he a man of few words, he will show me the right direction. We will not make the same mistake. See, I learned that lesson. I take my nap sack and head west. The father image pointed to the direction that was best for my journey. He said, “you will be safe if you sojourn that way.

Then, my next snore occurs. ~

There are several dimensions in the forest.
This is only two; shown me.
The ability to sleep and travel at the same time is possible. In the forest the hidden mysteries are revealed. Truths are given if asked. But, truths are experienced by walking through the forest. To know: is to journey here and face fear and beauty as a warrior princess. He says, “you can do it. Faith is with you. You must follow, Trust and Belief. They will accompany you, even if you return to the desert.”

My understanding that my father image reaffirms, which I already know in my heart,
This is what I know:

It is also known that I may return to the desert at any time. The choice is mine. Not, any another’s.
No one, makes another do anything. 
There is no one to blame, there is no control, that I don’t allow.
Choices for good are granted  with heavenly abodes.
Choices for destruction are exiled to the desert.
Some wander more than forty years.
Forty years is the averaged time to learn life’s hardest lessons.
There are familiar lessons passed down for generations.
Those lessons last many years. They are the difficult ones.
They end when the last student acknowledges the familiar lesson and what was learned by mistakes made.
Apologize humbly for all wrong choices.
Be a peacemaker.  
He or she leads the familiar lineage back into Eden. 
This is our mission if we choose.

Before, I leave Eden, a monkey comes with fruit in it’s hand and offers this to me. He says, mind to mind, telepathically, “here you will need this for your pilgrimage. Eden will be here when you want to return.”

I frantically reply, “Oh, I don’t want to go anywhere else. I want to stay here. Please. Father, Daddy, I am frightened to return to the parched land and dessert. Please, let me stay.

My father image and the monkey stand together and with kind humility and honesty point the way  to my right path. They say, "no, it’s not time. There is more knowledge to gain, more lessons for greater appreciation, more spiritual insight to achieve, You will return one day  Until then, we are with you where ever you choose. “

They faded into the morning’s light peeking into my bedroom window. The sun’s light greeted me with, “hello..

 

   

 

Author Notes
Just another very real dream. Please, understand, this dream was symbolic and humans are not “demons.” This is not to be read literally. It is written from the animal kingdom. 
There are parts of my dream that become relevant and clearer as I write and meditate on the symbolic meaning.  

Thank you for reading. 

Thank you Deloralock at fanart review for your picture which shows the precious animals in the forest.

The Gripes That Stole Christmas

The Gripes That Stole Christmas  
By Bojenn Bonnie Jennings  *
A work in progress
Christmas 2012

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The gripes that stole Christmas,
Shouted all through our land
All people were silent
Including the Carol band

The stockings were hung 
By chimneys with care
In hopes of the gripes would, SHUT UP!
With their wicked Christmas dares

And I in rebellion
With eggnog in the tub
Settled not in snug
For their fake “HAPPY HOLIDAY” hugs

While shopping at the mall mulling and frumping
And watching others snarling and melancholy 
Noticed the void of spirit filled voices
Singing of the historical birth of our savior.

Being born in a stable so lowly and humble
Offering us hope when misguided
Then, suddenly from the crowd I heard… 
…Someone singing?

Yes!… ?.. No… o…(sigh)
Only teenagers rapping … 
Then, disturbed at this plight,
That tv media stole man’s beacon light.
All for the sake of “human rights.”

Then a child from out of nowhere came
Tugged on my garment smiling my name
“Though our hearts break with too many changes
He hasn’t gone. No, he’s simply preparing.”

Then she called called out his names; 
Boldly declaring:
Now Yeshua
Now Jehova
Now Jesus
Now God

Onward believers
To the top of the world!
Now call them
And tell them about my love

And promise I’m soon coming
And don’t deny
For soon I will see you
Now, don’t you cry

Then the little child hugged me 
And disappeared from my sight
But the twinkle she left beaming from her eyes
And a joy over took me
As then I smiled
And shouted MERRY CHRISTMAS!
And saluted good night.

Original version

The gripes that stole Christmas
Shouted all through our land
All people were silent
Including the band

The stockings were hung 
By chimneys with care
In hopes of the gripes would, SHUT UP!
With their wicked Christmas dares

And I in rebellion
With eggnog in the tub
Settled not in snug
For their fake “HAPPY HOLIDAY” hugs

While shopping at the mall mulling and frumping
And watching others seeming melancholy 
Noticed the void of spirit filled voices
Singing of the historical birth of our savior.

Being born in a stable so lowly and humble
Offering us hope that’s often misguided
Then, suddenly from the crowd I heard… 
Someone singing?

Yes!… ?.. No… ?
Oh…(sigh)
Only teenagers rapping … 
Then, feeling I; disturbed

Then a child from out of nowhere came
Tugged on my garment smiling my name
“Though our hearts break with too many changes
He hasn’t gone. No, he’s simply preparing.”

Then she called called out his names; 
Boldly declaring:
Now Yeshua
Now Jehova
Now Jesus
Now God

Onward believers
To the top of the world!
Now call them
And tell them about my love

And promise I’m soon coming
And don’t deny
For soon I will see you
Now, don’t you cry

Then the little child hugged me 
And disappeared from my sight
But the twinkle she left beaming from her eyes
And a joy over took me
As then I smiled
And shouted MERRY CHRISTMAS!
And saluted good night.

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@copyright 2013 Bonnie Jennings

Finding Magic In Logical Reason

There is grey found between black and white.
A simple smile between laughter and frowns.
Valley’s separate mountains and and ocean homes.
Peace is midst hate and love.
Resolution and forgiveness create the magic found in sordid facts.

Mankind handed the the plan
To collide the facts
To orchestrate the energies
To direct major empires
Handing one olive branch despite stubborn pride

Yet there still is black and white
Grey is middle ground
Absolute facts in algebra
And God in the breath of life

A breath defies the carbon atom
Who can explain this equation
But man handed the plans
Commanded to
use God’s magic

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