The Dandelion Bouquet

By Renee Jurkiewicz

Meet Anna Hudson in this passionate story of love, confusion, and life in this woman's romantic journey to find herself. Anna realizes that she will never be able to ignore the wonders and carry on like the rest of the world seems to. Enjoy how this poetic story leaves the reader refreshed with a new outlook on life's chosen path. Anna has been feeling stuck and unhappy with her husband Douglas. She feels trapped and alone. That's when her childhood friend, Jacob mysteriously returns to her life. Anna still loves her husband, but these feelings were too strong, these feelings have been alive inside her all along. Anna knew there was a solution to her unsettled soul and she continued her search. Anna suddenly finds herself passionately in love with Jacob after all these years. She begins to feel as if she is living in a fantasy. Things continue to become complicated when Anna is allured back to the romantic touch of her husband, Douglas, whom she also loves, and now she has to decide which way to go. Normal was easier, but it was phony and meaningless. She didn't want to deprogram or desensitize herself into joining the majority who chose to ignore the mysteries of their existence. Anna explores the personalities of family members and admires the traits of her mother and her father shining through as precious gifts. Each gift plays an individual role in the strength of the family. Anna uses her own gifts as lessons to move forward with her life and discover what she finds inside each relationship. Learn how Anna finds comfort in a very special place with a very special friend. Imagine entering new horizons, realizing your dreams, and feeling absolutely secure and loved.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Christian Faith Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Dec 14, 2018
• ISBN: 9781643499017

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The Dandelion Bouquet

Renee Jurkiewicz

ISBN 978-1-64349-900-0 (Paperback)

ISBN 978-1-64349-901-7 (Digital)

Copyright © 2018 by Renee Jurkiewicz

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods without the prior written permission of the publisher. For permission requests, solicit the publisher via the address below.

Christian Faith Publishing, Inc.

832 Park Avenue

Meadville, PA 16335

www.christianfaithpublishing.com

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Introduction

The Dandelion Bouquet is a novel written by my mother, Renee DeStefanis-Jurkiewicz, not long before she passed away. This wonderful treasure sat collecting dust for many years. Now the book has finally been finished and has become available for everyone to read. My mother was born on January 17, 1961.

She was a very talented writer and student of astrology and the universe. She was awarded for being recognized by judges of the national library of poetry as being among the best 3 percent of all poetry entries published (in Tears of Fire, in 1994).

My mother was a very spiritual person. She was very loving and genuinely compassionate to every person she encountered. She often guided and mentored people with love, leading them toward their own happiness.

My mother passed away from cancer on October 25, 1995. I have always kept a part of her with me. I know she was comforted by knowing that her words and writings would remain. That part of her will be with us forever. Who we are never dies in the hearts of loved ones. Over the years, I have cherished her work, always keeping her words close to my heart. I remember the loving feeling of her every smile.

Growing up, I was always interested in what my mother was writing, and she told me, You will understand when you are older. I remember wondering what the words added up to—what secret message was within them? Whenever I watched her writing, I had no doubt the words she was writing were very important and special to her. Without reading one word, I somehow understood that place in her heart. To me, she was absolutely brilliant, as many others would agree. Every time I read her words, I realize how talented she was. I think she saw the proud look in my eyes and she knew that one day I would understand. Doing becomes understanding.

I know my mother had secret hopes and dreams of sharing her work with everyone. I have truly been guided by the Holy Spirit to help make that dream a reality. I feel that somehow this is something that she and I have always known would happen. Doing is understanding.

Her gifts to me are all coming together in the form of this book, The Dandelion Bouquet. It brings me joy knowing that she also visualized these moments in her own hopes and dreams for the future. Her spirit is shining bright as ever!

Ron Jurkiewicz

A plane rumbled overhead and interrupted thoughts of peace and calm and warmth. Anna sat at her desk, admiring the shade of blue that painted the sky. The roses just outside the window began to perspire under the sun, and their sweet aroma floated across the room, filling Anna’s heart with a moment of peacefulness. Still, any conclusions or solutions she was able to form were cut short by the wonders and hopes for her future. Realizing all the changes occurring in her lately, Anna found the silence in the room a soothing change of pace.

The warmth of the afternoon sun and the sweet scents of gentle southern breezes nourished the restlessness growing within her, but knowing that the weekday afternoon hustle, with the angry car horns and the unfeeling glances from passersby would only serve to gnaw away at her cause, Anna decided it was better to just stay at home. She didn’t want to be a part of that today . . . she needed not to be.

Living among the city’s trampling schedules was beginning to suffocate Anna. It seemed as though she would never find anyone here, able to take the time to try to understand the urgency she felt, just beneath the dust of her tired existence. Feeling different and alone, and unsure of whether to cherish or detest that fact, Anna felt as if she’d been locking fingers with the very heart of who she was.

It had been a long time since she’d been feeling as though she’d been clinging to . . . an instinct, a passion, or a belief embedded into her very existence. Not being able to identify the growing uneasiness in her heart didn’t make coping with it any easier. It was as if her hands were tied and her only option was to sit back and watch, as the world and comforts of her yesterdays, slowly disappeared from sight. No one really understood. The young would avoid the struggle of her thoughts. The middle-aged would avoid what they would see as a degree of lunacy. The politician would label her only a radical troublemaker . . . and the priest . . . perhaps, he would see only a desperate opponent. Anna wondered if it were possible that all of them had a degree of accuracy to their conclusions, and whether or not all of them had good cause to fear their descriptions of her.

Having reached a time in her life when everything seemed overwhelmingly confused and complicated, those who knew Anna could only watch as she struggled to come to terms with the present, let go of her past, and at the same time, try to prepare herself for what the future might hold.

Many trials and many a painful sigh had been deeply embedded into the woman she was today. She knew there was a solution to her unsettled soul, yet as the agony had increased, she’d grown to doubt it would ever actually occur that she would find the feeling of completeness she’d spent her lifetime searching for.

What made it more difficult was the fact that nothing specific had happened to give birth to the mess inside her heart and mind, and she was left wondering if it was normal for someone of her age to be feeling so intense about her unanswered questions.

She realized that she would never be able to just ignore the wonders, and carry on like the rest of the world seemed to. The questions and possible answers swam around her heart and mind like an unwelcome demon within her. And although she’d tried to control the haunting yearnings, it appeared that with the passing of each new day, she became more and more sure that they would never stop refusing to rest.

Many years had come and gone, and now, as Anna examined her experiences, trying to merge them into something of a feeling of peace, she seemed left with only larger mounds of uncertainty.

Anna had been raised by parents who’d taken the impact of life’s harshness for her, and for her seven brothers and sisters. Mother and Father had told them many stories with happy endings, had always appeared to be in control of their environment, had proclaimed in confident tones, that "There was an answer to every question." They had even seemed angry when such proclamations were challenged.

Anna had always believed, as a child, that Mother and Father had always known the answers to life’s mysteries, but had chosen to wait to share them, until they felt she was ready. She remembered the very first time she had requested they give her solid answers. Father’s eyes had taken on a troubled, defensive glare. He hadn’t seen that Anna had only wanted to find out what her daddy thought about things, in his heart, and somehow, his own discomfort with the subject had destroyed any memory of the actual words he’d spoken. It was only the urgency of his reaction that had stayed alive in her memory.

The conversation had taken place when Anna’s grandfather had died. Feeling the grip of death’s permanence for the very first time, Anna had been unable to contain her grief and fear. Deep down, she’d known her daddy would not be able to answer her questions . . . she wasn’t a dumb child. She’d known they were questions that held no provable answers . . . they were mysteries to all of mankind. Maybe that was why she’d chosen that particular moment to challenge the sure-footedness of her parents, in hopes they had been able to make some sense of death.

Daddy’s reaction only made the issue seem all the more frightening. But daddy hadn’t meant his anger as anger toward her question. Daddy had seemed angry because Daddy found the whole issue of death frightening to him too. How could he have looked into the eyes of a pleading little girl and admit that only one’s own death held the answers to those types of questions? The impact of realizing that her daddy was a human being, and not some special God of her very own, marked an enormous turning point in Anna’s road to maturity.

Remembering the look in Daddy’s eyes, Anna could understand his silent misery now. She found herself adoring him for his motivation and dedication to protect his children from all that was painful. Remembering it now, she knew his anger hadn’t been directed at her at all. He’d been angry at himself for not being able to soothe that particular pain.

As her own children had begun to grow and learn, Anna had been faced with similar situations, and although she, too, had been angry with herself for not being able to protect her babies from the harsher lessons of living; she had eventually admitted to them that there were things about life that simply held no explanations. She could only hope that her children would grow to respect her honesty, as they, too, learned the courage it takes to face one’s own limitations. By admitting to her own limitations and offering no apologies for them, hopefully, her children would be comfortable to do the same. At least, that had been Anna’s hope.

Anna’s youth was now nothing more than a spattering of vague memories. Trying to piece it all together, she considered the possibility that others saw a degree of insanity in the constants of her new quests. Some of those who’d known her all of her life were now unable to look at her, at all, because she’d grown to be too different and perhaps too intense. And of course, Anna couldn’t leave out the rare few who would proclaim to fully understand her, despite the pilings of evidence to the contrary. It was comical in a lonely, sad sort of way.

Remembering her childhood, Anna realized that most of the people Anna had met along the way had always seemed unable to shake their inhibitions about acceptance. She found that that had followed her to her present, as well.

She believed some of the poor souls had actually forgotten who they really were, and what they really believed in after all, these days, who had the time to worry about such nonsense? Power and money had also been very important to many of Anna’s childhood influences. Progress and status was the new and exciting adventure of the days when she’d been growing up.

Despite the fact that Anna had followed the schedules and guidelines of those around her, somehow she had always secretly hoped that there existed a more worthy cause to dedicate one’s life to. And now, after thirty-four years of living, that secret hope screamed wildly within her, causing her to question the worthiness of life itself.

Anna had tried to express those feelings with her parents, but had only been left with more doubts. Mother had completely missed the point of Anna’s explanation, and misunderstood the description of the void in her heart. She had convinced herself that some outside influence had caused Anna to rebel against what was considered normal thinking.

Father had simply changed the subject, deliberately dismissing the seriousness in Anna’s tone, to ensure maintaining his superiority and dominance in the conversation. After all, it was a father’s job to appear in control. Anna loved them both dearly, but it seemed neither of them had a clue as to the emptiness she was feeling, nor that she was now a woman asking for their opinion, not their little girl asking for parental comforts.

To beg them to try to understand would only have caused them to see her behavior as panic, and then they, too, would feel their own panic. Although she was sure they would never admit it, they were terrified of having their most intimate dreams and worries and heart-wrenching disappointments exposed to their beloved children. Perhaps that was why they seemed so terrified to listen when one of their children reached out to them in that way. Little did they know their efforts to conceal their pains and weariness had been in vain. Anna felt sure that they, too, had felt what she had been feeling, and in their efforts to shield their children from life’s pains, they’d only created a patterned habit of camouflaging all that was painful.

Anna couldn’t imagine going through her entire life masking her disappointments, fears, ambitions, successes, and regrets from her children. How had they ever been able to find the strength to keep all that inside? Mother and Father had never portrayed the all-American, average Joes who never got involved, and never made a fuss either, though. Simply going through the motions, for years on end, would only be denying that the lessons and experiences held a purpose. That would mean that the anguish and exhaustion were useless and in vain. Somehow, despite their refusal to openly discuss their discoveries, they’d made certain not to leave that impression with their children, and Anna knew that her inability to accept what the majority felt and thought had, somehow, been a gift from mother and father.

Anna shrugged the thoughts from her weary mind. There was today to confront, and today had a way of poking and prodding until they left bruises, if you weren’t one step, ahead of them. Soon the philosopher in Anna’s heart would have to wait patiently to continue pondering and concluding, while the demands of this today claimed their need for equal time. The biggest obstacle Anna would ever have to overcome was her own inability to assure and reassure herself that it was all worthwhile, and there really were answers to her questions. She’d have to find grit, and endurance, compassion and understanding within herself in fact, she would reach a point in her life when no other alternative would exist.

*****

After spending months trying to reform her thoughts, open her mind to the justifications other men had developed to explain why things were the way they were in the world, Anna was trying to learn to examine the individual, and let go of the universal images she’d created of mankind and time. She’d dug to the very core of her mind searching for a reasonable explanation for man’s total disregard of the larger picture. Didn’t they want to know? Didn’t they too, agonize over the emptiness of their routines, without having some sense of purpose to it all? Was it possible that they had all stopped wondering about the answers to the suffering because they hadn’t been able to find them within the realm of provable facts, statistics, and documented discoveries?

Taking it up with Mother had been a waste of time. She felt most comfortable with the conclusion that Anna was going through something and would be back to normal in no time at all. Didn’t she understand that Anna didn’t want to get back to normal. Normal was easier, but it was phony and meaningless. She didn’t want to de-program and desensitize herself into joining in with the majority, who chose to ignore the mysteries of their existence.

Anna’s heart grew heavy as she remembered more of the day she’d tried to share the idea with Mother and Father. She had tried to explain that she felt it was only logical that if mankind’s purpose, as a whole, was for each person to individually take advantage of every opportunity to acquire material wealth, thus, leaving all aspects of one’s accomplishments behind after death, surely it had to be the most carelessly thought out plan she could ever imagine being formed. The fact that man only has limited knowledge of the complexity of his own being, is an offering of proof that a superior being existed, at one time, and created mankind. She’d explained. She’d gone on to explain that it also seemed logical that if a Superior God had created a plan for mankind, he wouldn’t have formulated it carelessly. Still, it seemed that men of all nations had spent generations of lifetimes ignoring that fact. Following their plan," and behaving accordingly was contradictory to something inside of Anna’s spirit. By trying to rewrite the scripts of the individual, it seemed that man had lost the desire to fulfill the purpose of the being as a whole. Anna had concluded by expressing her opinion that the greed of mankind had replaced his awe of the unknown and mysterious.

Mother had tagged the concept as ludicrous, which simply meant she wasn’t in the right frame of mind to deal with such a heavy subject at the time. Anna found herself envying her mother, for Mother’s adulthood had been spent along society’s road of progress and status building she’d lived the days before the road had curved, and the return trip had begun to singe the treasures of yesterday’s long ago.

Mother hadn’t, however, been without her own worries and suffering. There had been no easy days for Mother when her children had been around to need daily doses of loving and caring and nursing and feeding and clothing and nurturing. It was incredible to Anna that Mother hadn’t cracked up along the way somewhere. Anna, smiled as she remembered the way Mother had always managed to be there for them.

She was the one who’d tied the shoes and buttoned the jackets. It was always Mother who’d kept the peace and calmed the flaring tempers. If anyone deserved to be omitted from those of her generation who had been irresponsible about their lives, it was Mother. She’d done her part to protect her children’s futures, and had sacrificed a large portion of her life to today’s causes by the example of sacrifice, she’d set for her children.

So, although it was probably true that Mother didn’t know just how corrupt the government had become, and probably didn’t realize how serious mankind’s possible extinction had become either, and that she couldn’t begin to imagine what Anna was going through, none of that mattered to Anna. Mother was Mother, and she had more than earned the love and respect Anna held for her.

Father had reacted similarly to the conversation, but differently too. He had unsuccessfully tried to convince Anna that the concept of a greater being was accurate, but that the system’s alleged inadequacy could be disproved. Father was a loyal follower of progress and, for one reason or another, he had