Angela Grout, Author    

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Creative Writings

A Lemon Tree Delivery

Posted by on February 24, 2020 at 2:00 AM Comments comments (3)

She asked me to bring a lemon tree over. I carried the lemon tree to give to her as if it were an olive branch. 

It wasnt fromme, but I felt a part of its journey,

The kitchen was large and the countertops clearn. So shiny and new.

Inviting me in, eyes filled with wonder.

Carefully I plaved the gift on the counter nearest to me.

She smiled and asked, "What is that for?"

I politely smiled hello, and handed her a card.

It read: "Erma Bomback said that life is a bowl of cherries and if that is the case, then many believe it is the pits, but truth is life is like a lemon tree- Filled with Hope, dreams, and beauty for those willing to see. May you see the sweetness of lemonade as you watch this lemon tree grow."

The sunlight came through the window and illuminated a branch. It's leaf held a bud which would one day bloom to grow into the fruit that norishes more than just the soul.

She hugged me goodbye, and I began to cry.

Being the messenger is more than a job. It's a gift when the message is recieved.

The gift of the lemon tree has so much signaficance to see.

Advice from a Frog

Posted by on August 13, 2019 at 9:50 AM Comments comments (0)
I adjusted my eyes to see exactly what I was imagining within the glow of the campfire. The reality of the two little eyes that were staring back at me was real. It was a frog. The little frog had hopped into the firepit and was shivering under a log. Attempting to move the flames away from him, I hoped he would jump out of the pit. He did not. I knew I could not stick my own hand in or I would be burnt, so I pondered what to do as he retracted further into the pit behind some cardboard. I told him to get out but his eyes just blinked at me. We stared at each other for a minute, then I quietly said a prayer that God's will be done, knowing whatever happened was not my fault. I could only do so much, it was just a frog. If it were a child, I obviously would grab the hose to extinguish the flame. I thought to myself, "Its just a frog. What am I suppose to do? I can't just extinguish this fire to save it. So many are enjoying the fire, roasting marshmallows and relaxing in front of it. Should I make a scene?" My mind repeated, "It is just a frog." Instantly I thought of Prince Charming...he was once a frog wasn't he? The story of the Frog and the Princess came to mind, and I imagined some girl losing her prince charming. I grabbed a stick and poked the cardboard sending it flying over the flames, the frog sat there again his eyes looking at me for a split second before he hopped away and out of the firepit. As he landed in the gravel below the rocks surrounding the flames, he paused again and turned his head at me and said, "I should have looked before I leaped into that pit. I assumed it was a safe place but it was too hot for me. I like to swim and splash in the water. Fire is no laughing matter, thank you for giving me room to move, to feel safe, and to live longer." I smiled and knew the truth of Dr. Suess's words, a person is a person no matter how small. One lucky prince is free and he made quite an impact on me.

Red Rose Reflection

Posted by on August 8, 2019 at 9:30 AM Comments comments (0)
That man brought those flowers. Paid cash and asked to be anonymous. He was a friend. A friend of hers from high school. He knew she was an addict. He always found her attractive and would have liked to maintain a relationship with her but she chose the drugs over him. Heartbroken, he went on his way and had a successful life in all he did, but always felt like a failure for not being able to help her. Now he was helping, decorating her lonely memorial service with multiple floral designs. Her daughter wondered where they came from, as she sat alone in the room with her mother's ashes. Someone loved her mother besides just her, and the drug dealers and the drugs. The daughter mourned with the friends from the AA. Those friends witnessed her stand before them week after week announcing she was back on track, even though she hadn't had a successful weekend without a drink. She wanted to. She had good intentions. Each week she pleaded for her sobriety and addiction to be in control but it controlled her. She died in her sleep. Her daughter discovering her in the morning laying in her own vomit and covered with track marks. She passed away alone, leaving her only daughter more alone. At the memorial service, there were no words that could bring her back. There was no mentions of any love for her daughter. The flowers stared back at her as she questioned her mothers love and actions. Those drugs took her mother and now all that is left is an urn on the table with a photo of her selfie. And flowers, so many flowers. No card message accompanied these flowers. No sign of where they came from but the fragrance is amazing, and the colors so bright. The red roses burst with their color within the mix of lilies and carnations and snap dragons. Mom loved snap dragons, often stopping to admire the garden at our neighbors. She gave me a red rose once. It was my high school graduation day. I pressed that rose and now found myself reaching for the one next to her picture. There would be no burial. I can not afford that. She sits on my mantle. The rose dried next to her. Some nights I yell at her. Some nights I cry silently asking, "Why?" I don't know who my father is. I don't have any siblings. No cousins to call my own and well her parents just disowned us after I destroyed their house because I didn't want to live with them. I wanted to be with my mom. Mom made it right. She got me back. She got a job and taught me to work too. We split the rent. Now I am alone. I know I need a roommate because I don't want to be alone. There is this guy, he might want in, but I am afraid he wants more than just a room. But I am afraid and along, and broke with only this home. Mom placed her drink on that mantle and now all that is there is what the drinks didn't take of her. That is not the mother I want. Two years have passed and now I carry my own daughter within me, I know how much mom did love me. For over twelve years she did. Until that guy impressed with her more than drinks! My guy didn't impress me with a drink, he carefully created a shrine to place my mother in so that he could be thankful that she made me who I am. His arms welcomed me, and his knee asked for me. All of me. The lonely, the scared, the mad, and the scarred. And I felt his love growing inside of me and realized it was a part of me which was once a part of the goodness she was for me. Thank you mom for bringing me into this world. I am not mad at you for leaving, just the why and how. I understand your loneliness and I know you were never lonely when I was with you. Now I am without you, and I look at your shrine and pray for your love to shine down on us now. Then the stars on the Christmas tree twinkled with a glow that led my eyes to the picture tucked under the urn. I forgot it was there, I put it there on a dark angry night, refusing to look at that selfie. I called her selfish, but now I know it is me being selfish for not letting my love for her show. I lifted the urn, and hugged the photo. With a light kiss on her lips I leaned it on her remains. After the birth of my daughter, my husband brought me two gifts. One was a small portrait of mom that he commissioned a painter to paint. All framed and ready to sit in her shrine. The other was a red rose.

Wisdom from the Great Grandmother

Posted by on December 24, 2016 at 5:30 PM Comments comments (0)
Jesus was born so we would know God is real. He is a gift, just as each of us are. All are created in his likeness. Therefore I know I shall live long so they will know me. For those that know me, will trust me and I shall guide with the love they know from me. Faith must begin somewhere, God sent his son, God creates our families, and we create relationships in reality which brings divine unity.

Christmas Gift to Spirit. And My experience with Ashley.

Posted by on December 17, 2016 at 10:45 PM Comments comments (0)
A Christmas Gift to the Holy Spirit...In thanksgiving for the collateral beauty that life ahs. (And yes, I saw the movie on opening night, and it was amazing! Highly recommend it. I share in its message for it is so real!) The author in me needs to take a moment for this reflection post. To tell part of my story as a thanksgiving to spirit, for I know how real it is. Thank You Spirit for the blessing of meeting beautiful souls, especially Ashley Marie Guindon and Andrea Borsari, whose presence in the world became a presence to my soul after their earthly life was over. It is Christmas time, a time to be joyful and not mourn. So in celebration, I am joyful to remember Jesus's birth. For without his life, I would never come to understand either of yours. Your spirit was taken from your earthly body, just as Jesus. And still, you remain in my presence so often. I am honored to have gotten to know you, and share parts of our journey together. The gift of Spirit is one that many fear sharing, as I do on many occasions, however just as Jesus enlightened the world, so you do too. Everything unfolds at the right time, and as intended. So with that faith, I share these words with those in need of knowing God's love is real. Miss Ashley was a girl, a brother, a friend, a daughter, and a neighbor that I never knew on earth. We never met face to face until the day of her Acension. Her spirit, friendship, and guidance remains a gift that I humbly and cautiously embrace. The sorrows she endured and the pain that her passing brought touched so many during her life, and even now. I cannot explain why she came to me but with heartfelt sorrow, I welcomed her. Some dreams are dreams, and some dreams become reality. The words that were written, spoke to me then, and now. They directed the path I was to take. Even today, with Spirit allowing her, her guidance unfolds in my life with gifts of enlightenment. The magic in the air surrounding ones passing may come and go, and when loneliness sets in, there are moments of isolation that allows the loss to feel all too real. And it is. It is real. In His Spirit, they share with me, that the love that surrounds them from our Heavenly Father can be most compared to the comfort a newborn feels as they cuddle into their mothers arms, melting into her heartbeat, and remembering that they were once one. For we are all one with the Spirit of God, and that is the Spirit which I know carried Ashley safely to heavens where she will wait for us all. It is the same Spirit that carries all our loved ones. And they will wait, for time is not as we know it, and so we need not hurry, they will wait. As I mentioned in other poems, we yearn to be reunited but we must commit to live our lives with fulfillment until our name is called. Spirit is a word to encompass the love of God. In that Spirit, I know God protects, guides, and encourages me in so many ways. I only wish I will follow all the advice, but I am merely human. Ashley is an angel, A Guide. A Beautiful Spirit. (If I followed her encouragement, I would be in boot camp everyday...she is much stronger than me. A role model, a friends, and angel with a duty to restore peace.) Andrea too. It is my honor, my duty, and my "call" to be a friend to her and to all. Some things can be called coincidences, but some moments are more. All are gifts from God's love, God' Spirit, and I am so thankful. From Ashley's roses, to her friends, to her Mother's embrace, to my own hesitation, and her Dad's embrace. She has graced me face to face and shown me her badge of honors. Her sincere smile brings both fun and fierceness. These are just a few of the gifts she has shared with me. Ashley has exemplified what "call of duty" is, not only in her life, but in others, and in mine. As a florist, I know my job, my call, my talent, but on a spiritual path, she reminds me of my duty, my free will and my gift. I thank her for giving me the gentle push and reminding me that I am also a writer of Spirit's word. I must share. My hope is by sharing, others may find comfort, and I may grow confident; for when God knocks, I will always answer. There are those whose presence in the world becomes a presence in your soul after death; encouraging life's journey abundantly.

Anxiety of an not okay

Posted by on July 18, 2016 at 5:25 PM Comments comments (0)
(So this may sound insensitive; and I apologize if anyone gets personally offended. I am not trying to offend anyone, but seriously...can we stop making excuses for people's behavior!) Anxiety of an not okay. It is not okay to attack anyone. It is not okay to plan an attack on someone. It is not okay to impose your beliefs on anyone in a harmful way! It is not okay to want to make a difference in the world by attacking people! It is not okay to behave as if rules do not apply to you! Even, if you have an emotional, mental or educational learning is not okay to expect society to accept your actions. Doctors, Teachers, Parents, Friends, Religious Leaders, and Officers of the Court need to help find a way to keep those that harm themselves and are a threat to the streets before they themselves are killed, or imprisoned. All lives do matter, but the lives of those that are planning harm to innocent people need to be educated. They need to be detoured, and Shown the light; because the light they believe in is only an illusion. True light bears a reflection of love, forgiveness, and hope for matter! The ones they wish to harm are their brothers, and we are a united country, therefore these terrorist/police murderers and Isis followers need to learn that they have value now, and can do something more productive with their life than plan and execute attacks on society. For those that execute with the belief they will be rewarded in the afterlife. I am sorry to inform you but it does not happen that way! What you give is what you get. The golden rule is not for vindictive behavior, it is for good behavior. That is the one lesson you must have not learned, but will...for humanity has a natural way to balance things and we must trust. This does not mean to trust in karma...but that does work too. We cannot live in fear for then they are winning. Have trust, have faith, and have the ability to make a difference with kind words, actions, and gestures. This will prevail over our anxieties.

Hearing Signs

Posted by on August 29, 2015 at 11:50 PM Comments comments (0)

I heard you yesterday when you said, "Keep your eyes on the sky."  I did, and a Rainbow appeared.

I heard you yesterday when you said, "Keep your eyes open for the luck of the Irish." I did, and a four leaf clover appeared.

I heard you yesterday when you said, "Watch for the toy car." I saw it.

I heard you yesterday when you said, "No more than 40."  I listened.

I heard you yesterday when you said, "Listen for the fire." And the alarms went off at seven.

I heard you yesterday when you said, "Look for the prayers, Hear the songs."  And they were said..all of them.

I heard you yesterday when you said, "It's death done its part." And the wedding song played.

I heard you yesterday when you said, "Life is grand on earth as it is in heaven." I wondered.

I heard you yesterday when you said, "Breathe for me and I will watch over you." I am.

I hear you say now, "Bless you." I am filled with thanksgiving.

Bless You.

Channel of the Write Force

Posted by on May 5, 2015 at 8:30 AM Comments comments (0)

There is some clarity to writing. It is a tool that allows thoughts to manifest not only visually and physically but it allows thoughts to be heard and understood.

Talking also provides clarity, however sometimes we do not listen to what we are saying or often times we tune out what we are hearing. On paper, or even on a screen, we see what we need to see; sometimes highlighting what we feel may be the message to us. Many are blind and never see the message or the lesson, but others instantly know and even feel the truth of what they are seeing.

I write with a force that guides my strokes and allows me to clearly understand what I am writing. It is the write force for me. As they say there are writers and there are readers. I am blest to be both.