Posted in Advice, Musings, Random, Sermons, Soul Journal, travel

Space Odyssey

We all find our way, not by tracking footsteps, but by way of the unknown, forging a trail of adventure.

True, we need guidance and support. No astronaut would likely enter a spaceship alone. We need others, whether we like it or not. The key to success is learning to get along with each other.

This dilemma of getting along circles back to a personal worldview. The questions and answers. Or lack thereof, hound us. There are answers. I am certain of this one thing. However, people are unlikely to grasp truth sitting in their own space. So reach out. Interact. Risk your heart for a piece of another’s heart.

I know. I know. Easier said than done. I literally am sitting here right now, shaking as a ripe fig, waiting to drop. And drop I will, with trembling, I am blasting off into my greatest fear. I had best be ready!!

Ready or not, here I go! J🌏🌻

Posted in Advice, Memoir, Musings, Poetry, Sermons, Soul Journal, two lines

Two or three are gathered

In fear and trembling, destiny’s road perishes.
With courage, horizons become light.

This is how I started my thinking in the New Year 2017.  Fight!  Push through this colossal dilemma and latch onto what got you here in the first place.  Birth.  Birth something new into your being.  And with this strength, I set out on 2017’s road with a new hope.

By no means is this journey easy.  Most days, it is incomprehensible that I sit here at my writing desk.  Seldom am I truly sitting here alone.  I have trusted myself into capable hands, caring people who have seen me through obsidian days.  Cheerleaders for my soul.  I have buried myself on occasion, unearthed words from rubble, in order to bring comfort through turmoil and rage.  I have flown skyward, netting star light, to pocket for future days.

So?  If?  When?  Three questions that will never leave me.  I have finished my schooling.  I woke up this morning with no paper due dates.  I heard myself chuckle.  When was the last time I laughed so gaily?  For certain, it has been a while.  If I find myself low, will I recall this moment?  A tinkling in the cosmic dust of life.  And so, I travel on with hopes and new adventures await…

Do not fear the mistake, fear the absence of courage.  Healthy fear grows into strength.  Fear and courage, two strands, binds a marriage in your head. With humility, three,  their dancing commands attention.   See you soon.  Happy writing, Jeanne Elizabeth

Posted in Sermons

Justice Served

Life brings tragedy so we can be advocates for the voiceless.  

People try to say suicide is the most cowardly act a man could ever commit. I don’t think that’s true at all. What’s cowardly is treating a man so badly that he wants to commit suicide.

—Tommy Tran, author “Forever and a Day”

So this is my life and it hits close to my heart. This is my daughter’s story, but I say “No more.” This momma has turned into an unhappy bear and you never want a bear angry with you.  

I have had always had a passion for the weak. I never thought what would push me forward is the unspeakable. I sat in a counselors office and had to say “My daughter wants to die.”

Posted in Poetry, quotes, Sermons

Power of dark and light

Church is poetry. Poetry is life. A life well lived.

There lay Baby Jesus
sweet and sound he slept.
He knows the way before him
as sure as the Magi’s quest.

Come, Oh! come the people sing.
The bells on high, the angels ring.

There lay Baby Jesus
goodwill, a life of peace.
Came to heal and care for
the poor who beg the streets.

Come, Oh! come the people sing.
The bells on high, the angels ring.

Dark overcomes light while light battles back. These two powers are equally strong. Faithful believers wait for a day when the final battle is fought, conquering evil  forever. Meanwhile, humanity wanders, seeking wisdom, knowledge and spiritual guidance. Where is this goodwill for all men? Where is this peace Jesus came to bring?

The Star of the East shone brightly, a message of hope.  The Three Kings of the Orient, men of wisdom, had heard the stories of his arrival. These Magi’s of Iran, Balthasar, Melchior, Caspar, came to bring gifts for baby Jesus. They sought a religious experience, seeking wisdom higher than earthly thoughts. Meanwhile, King Herod, disturbed by the thought of baby Jesus, declared all baby boys be killed.

 Matthew 2:1 – “After Jesus was born in Bethlehem in Judea, during the time of King Herod, Magi from the east came to Jerusalem.”

Matthew 2:7 – Then Herod called the Magi secretly and found out from them the exact time the star had appeared.

Matthew 2:16 – When Herod realized that he had been outwitted by the Magi, he was furious, and he gave orders to kill all the boys in Bethlehem and its vicinity who were two years old and under, in accordance with the time he had learned from the Magi.

The promise of Christmas has not failed. God has not abandoned us. Our peaceful pursuit of goodwill is a gift from God; a conscience seeking spiritual guidance. I do not refuse earthly men’s wisdom, it is rather I choose to follow the Son of God who promises healing and peace for all who traverse afar, searching for the light. Hope is my fortitude.

“Always winter and never Christmas; think of that!”
“How awful!” said Lucy.

–C.S. Lewis “The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe” (1950)

Merry Christmas,
Goodwill and peace to all, J

Posted in Advice, Opinion, Poetry, quotes, Sermons, Soul Journal

November 1, 2016 (morning thoughts)

I overhear people on the street, in every conversation, expressing “Where has this year gone?” and soon New Years will be upon them and they will start all over again. Another year, 2017, to find themselves  expressing regret, if it is regret.

I know each day passes by.
I know life is fleeting.
Some days I pray
day becomes wind,
blowing away and blowing in.  J.

What catches us off guard to days passing? What is it I want to do with my days that I let pass by, that I have not done? Once upon a time, afflicted with debilitating grief, depression and anxiety took over my mind. Soldiers of dark they were and yet I held on to them as dear friends, who helped relieve guilt of things unsaid and love held back.

It was stolen. As most beautiful things eventually are.”
–J.J. Abrams, S.

I believe it is the relationships never forged, to move beyond hello, that we regret. We long to find a soul who understands us completely. At least I do. How often rejection becomes the sole wall we never conquer. Fear strikes the most formidable person of courage. It is fear that makes love obsolete.

where has love gone
hiding behind faces
afraid to interact
made fun of, rejected?

how else are we ever to understand
the mind of another
if we do not extend hearts and hands
express our need to utter?

words, why worry?
Depression and Anxiety twins.
Twins playing tricks
with no treats, no win.   J.

No doubt there is much to worry about. The question becomes how to control what we can so we reap fruitful rewards.

When we are released from the mind’s demon, we see the world from a fresh perspective and wonder what next. What beautiful thing exists around the bend?


My thoughts this morning as I approach the day. Will I ever understand knowing there is much to comprehend? I, a pot on a potter’s wheel, broken and mended, rearranged and defended against the pain of the world.

Keep searching. This is what I pray for today. So easily rejected. So easily to reach out again. No matter how I might find myself yearning to be safe in the dark again, a place of comfort I knew and know so well, I keep fighting.

I look forward to reading J.J. Abrams book, “S.”


Posted in quotes, Random, Sermons


Church is poetry. Poetry is life. A life well lived.

Hardened hearts, bitter souls and broken minds, I believe, describes a large portion of lives. If you count yourself among those who have forgiven, moved on or reconciled, you have found the power and glory of God above all strength of men to counter evil this side of heaven. So live peacefully among enemies, guard your hearts and minds from corruption and seek reconciliation where possible. Where evil resides hand it over to God, be still and watch His mighty wind bring righteous change.


I feel a need to speak to what is happening in America’s election. It is shocking, but not, it is unbelievable, but it is not, it is extraordinary, but it is not, it is the end, but it is not if righteousness prevails.

There has been gnashing of teeth, behind the scenes, not of politicians, but of the American citizenry who have watched freedoms erode for law-abiding citizens. Riots in the street of those who have been victims of government rule, not pulling for themselves and speaking out for their neighborhoods. They have sat in squalor, watched squalor take over, and find themselves deeper in the hole. People have flocked to the suburbs, from the cities, because of crime and poverty.

I am not a student of history as much as I love history. I cannot go deep enough into the time after the freedom of slaves. I do know a few rose above the noise of the day but many more did not. They fought and won often. They fought and lost many more. Today, the power is in a person to become a citizen, obey the law, live in peace, find hope, seek love, find forgiveness, and somehow our society has failed to see progress. Today is the most divided we have been since Lincoln’s days.

I tried to find words of wisdom from Lincoln. I read Gene Griessman’s book The Words Lincoln Lived By, and wonder why there is not a class on Lincoln in schools. He is a man of honor and wisdom all Americans can live by. It is a shame we have squandered a man’s determination to make men free to have them slaves to themselves.

Posted in Advice, Poetry, Sermons

Politicians or how politics ruins lives.

mob mentality
sore excuse for apathy
men of paradox

who has benefited
perfected long-winded speeches
perch themselves on high

as a bird prepares
to feast on the spread breadcrumbs
backroom deals explode

to swing the masses
sweet symphony of promise
heads rest on concrete

wake up foreign land
who can recognize the men
dangling superimposed sin

extract faith from souls
filling the cold voting booth
hollow corpses roam

men expressing hope
lie in bed expecting them
to make life better

Reading Why Orwell Matters by Christopher Hitchens, I cannot say I understand why he matters. Orwell’s two famous stories, 1984 and Animal Farm, lie as mob fancy.  The end of the impact becomes bookshelf mementos, intellectuals praise the words with the weight of politics upon the backs of citizens.Pacifism and all isms, government intervention, religion as tools for politics, war and rumors of war to incite fear, the looming globalists usurping nation sovereignty. We must ask why. Why does evil prowl for heads resting on concrete, eating breadcrumbs spread, oblivious to their suffering, not understanding the promises of peace, acceptance and ease of life is but a lie. No one can make such promises and succeed. Life is friction. Lying low can be useful for a time. Friction between ideas and worldviews professes an uprising is never far behind.

“The most effective way to destroy people is to deny and obliterate their own understanding of their history.”
George Orwell

“Political language is designed to make lies sound truthful and murder respectable, and to give an appearance of solidity to pure wind. ”
George Orwell

So perhaps Orwell does matter. He should matter to the average man to take heed. Read between the lines and notice the message from both media and the scripted words made to comply with the feelings of the mob. The mob who lies in apathy waiting for a savior. In my estimation the wrong savior. The truth shall appear and it grows ever near. Perhaps someday the wishes of many will materialize and such a utopia will exist.

Read. Read more than what you want to hear and know and understand. Take to the edge of any bridge, do not jump but feel what cannot be seen, the invisible wall keeps you safe.

Then learn to fly. Fly.

I certainly have my beliefs and rather not coerce or convert you to my way of thinking but encourage you, do, think. Act. Find truth.

Posted in Memoir, Music Video, Poetry, Sermons, Soul Journal

belief in unbelief

Church is poetry. Poetry is life. A life well lived.

His image rests in mid air
long flowing, sky robe,
wispy as my hair.
I retreat, tear back in fear,
embracing shame.
He knows me as no other,
this game i play.   (Christmas 1990)

Who is this man
that I draw His attention?
Me, alone, prominent.
A snarled olive tree in a
pitch-dark moonless night.
He calls me by name,
I am His and He is mine. (Summer 2014)

The Fray You Found Me 

My intention is never to coerce.
How would that make my evidence
any more powerful than yours?
Instead, I say “if” because
if you had the experiences I have
there would be no doubt,
your belief in unbelief.





Posted in Art, Memoir, Opinion, Poetry, Sermons, Soul Journal

First Drafts

Please bare with me. I am changing. Again. Sorry if you liked me before. You will need to hang around and determine if the new me is a new or a recycled version, of what was once referred to as reincarnation. Although I do not believe I died last night so it probably is recycling I am to be referred.

Please forgive me if this post is self-indulgent. I do not want to frighten you from an ego being built from non-existence. This world is not all about me and I do give unconditionally from my heart. I only hope that what I dare say is something you grapple with and the journey can be shared as friends. With that I am renaming my blog to First Drafts.

Seasons: A Poetic Journey of a Thousand Miles.
Love spins my world. Out of the maze of life comes simplicity. Love is simple. Raw and unedited, lived in dreams.

I have loved living under those words. An umbrella I was hoping could stave off the hurt. It was but a dream. There are few words to identify a person in a crowd and the words above have been a mantra for some time but I am constantly changing and woke with a sense that my blog is not descriptive to portray the fight I am, within. I push against such a polished idea. I am not a shiny stone. I am a jagged-edged, dusty form, that needs constant force to guide my mind. I yearn to be a Poetic Journey but am rather a First Drafts kind of gal. This is a blog after all and not a published book of poetry. I am walking towards the polished seasons of tomorrow with yearning hope.

I am a believer and most of my words may be offensive to those who claim faith. I often hide from others in shame, believing my thoughts need to be hidden. I can feel anonymous on my blog, although I have ventured to add a photo of myself. (LOL!) I confess, the words are true to me. I do get angry, depressed, anxious and think ugly because I am being perfected and approaching the summit. I have a long way to go as long as my journey is not caught short. Even then I hope I have done my best to live life well.

I respect all and kindly ask for empathy as I journey through life, trying to make sense where sense fails to exist.

I have a deep-rooted interest in peeling away my thoughts, imagining new ways to focus, remodeling my inner world. I have survived my grandfather’s and brother’s suicides. I have survived an unspeakable (in my estimation) personal tragedy after high school. I have taken on roles in life I felt inadequate to perform and purposed roles, I felt gifted towards, have slipped from my fingers.

A person is art at birth. The aspect of introspection comes with time and events. I see the act of looking within as recycling bits-n-pieces, reforming, molding a whole new soul. Perhaps one is even able to present themselves as several pieces not willing to throw away broken shards others see as damaged goods. That in itself is art. The act of seeing. The perspectives of bloggers with one set of words is infinite. If we get comfy in a picture, that is fine. Life is not always busy digging but digging in and finding joy.

I love poets and writing poetry. Poets are succinct lines embracing expanse only the reader can imagine. First drafts are a dawning day. Every night doomsday, to a soul determined to try again. Death a weary friend.

Looking forward to new days and new ways to share life with you. Hope you stay. Jeanne

P.S. Even this post, probably a first draft, will find new light as days pass. 🙂

Posted in Poetry, Sermons

Reconciling all things

Church is poetry. Poetry is life. A life well lived.

Peace dances with forgiveness
the two married, longing for a better world.

A self-indulgent message rings
go home, walk away from the hurt
speak no more of isms.
Staged mockery,
governments a murderous division.
Buried eyes
between pages of academic books
with rules and impossible mountains.

A strife born, to cause fissure,
leading hope to traipse a darker way.
A divorced promise,
walking, leaving behind forgiveness,
fetching belief in deceit.
The people call out in the street.
“Seek God’s Word
reconciliation, a lasting peace.”

The echo in reply is deafening
as the church walks away.

I wrote this for my Minority Reconciliation class this week and decided to share my life work with you. My hope is you are blessed beyond measure by my words. I hope they speak truth to your life. I am involved with social work in the Indianapolis, IN homeless population as well as dealing with diverse differences of meaning in our community. I have a Christian vision for justice, peace and healing which I know does not always go over well with the secular world. I am fine with multiple understandings if we can lovingly share the differences that construct our visions. I share my wisdom and heart freely and invite all to partake at the great banquet feast of knowledge and pray an understanding can forge a world of truth in the great universe of ideas. Be blessed this week.

Happy writing as always, J