Storytime Tapestry Newsletter

The newsletter devoted to spreading love and cultural awareness around the world.

August 19, 2006

Today’s announcements

Today we have another new writer/poet to introduced.  Annina L. Anton becomes writer #347 for Storytime Tapestry.  Please welcome her in the wonderful Storytime Tapestry fashion.

Now onto the good stuff!

Today’s Queue Stories

Miracle

Paula Booher

It was one of those moments a parent does Not like to face.  Your child presents you with a sick, near death animal and says, "Mom save it please". with tears in her eyes and running down her cheeks.  What was I to do.  A little black kitten cold and almost lifeless.  Brooke explained that she had found the sweet little thing in a pile of leaves just up the street at a neighbors while the kids were walking in their backyard.  Brooke had taken a step and heard the small cry of the kitten.  She dug out the pile she had stepped on and found the baby barely breathing.  Of course her first thought was to bring it to me in hopes that I could miraculously safe it somehow. 

As a child I did the same thing to my own mother.  Now I know how she must have felt in those moments when I expected So much of her.  Of my three children Brooke is the most like myself...always trying to rescue the little creatures by bringing them home as if we are the neighborhood rescue mission or woodland area in the middle of the big city.  I too thought those things until one day mother actually moved us to the big woods and I was in heaven.  I then roamed the woods freely and felt like a queen among all the little creatures of nature.

Back to the little kitten...

I took the  still black body in my hands and noticed it was very cold.  At first thought I just knew she was too late and was about to give her the sad news that it was too late when it suddenly moved.  Hope sprang up in me and I told her to get me a washcloth quickly.  I then proceeded to gently shake it and run some water to see if I could get more of a response from this tiny thing.  It was at least breathing.  There was hope but not much.  It was so weak it could not hold it's little head up or make much sound.  I tried to get it to open it's mouth and take in some milk but it just could not.  The eyes were not blinking and seemed too dry.  My only recourse, in my mind, was to shock it awake more.  I ran some warm water and wet it just a bit.  That did the trick and it started to fight and move some more.  I even got a meow out of the little thing.  I then decided it might be able to get some milk down or at least something.  By that time Brooke decided it was time to call her big sister Jami.  Jami has a vet on standby and Brooke was convinced that Jami would know what to do over me.  Brooke called Jami and Jami told us they have canned milk for baby kittens at Petsmart so we went to Petsmart and got some.  Quinn, Jami's hubby met us there.  He took the kitten to their house while Brooke and I got the supplies inside.  

At their house Jami fed the kitten small amounts of the milk, while Quinn kept warming continuous towels in the clothes dryer to change out for the tiny kitten.  Everything was being done to save this helpless creature.  They even went online for additional information and found we were doing everything we could do last night.  This morning the plan was to take it to the vet along with Peewee, their kitten who had an appointment, if it made it through the night.  We already named it Miracle either way, and prayed for the best outcome.  When Brooke and I left Miracle looked clean, dry, and resting.  Much better than a few hours previous.  We'd done all we could do and the rest was in Gods hands.

First thing this morning I called Jami to check on little Miracle.  I already suspected the news but I asked the question anyway.  Jami's response only confirmed my suspicion.  She said, "Miracle didn't make it".  My first thought was, "How to present it to Brooke?"  In an instant I knew.  It was by no coincidence that it was the same July 6th, the same day as Nikki Castro's service.  Explaining this to an 8 year old inpressionalbe, very sensitive little girl, who does nothing but care about everybody, was perfect.  The Holy Spirits gentle touch explained to me what to do and I just did it.  When Brooke came to me first thing this morning I told her that little Miracle gave it all she had and it was just meant to be.  I explained to her that she, Brooke, had done a very good thing by saving that tiny kitten and now she was   giving her to a very special woman to take to heaven with her to care for.   Nikki's sweet spirit shone through in another crisis even past her time of death of her body and she has already started soothing a childs heart here as an angel if you look at it through a mothers eyes...mine. 

All the wonderful emails for Nikki were strangely coming through my email address and I would just forward them onto Alice or David.  I had wondered why this was happening until this morning.  Then it dawned on me that there must be a reason.  A sweet person that didn't know me in this life that touched my life and cared for so many outside of herself has now touched my child and left her imprint on Brooke and will forever make a difference in the way Brooke sees the future of helping others.  Once again Nikki Lee (Armstrong) Castro has become a hero to someone she never met.  Another Glory for God...another reward for Nikki...In Jesus Name Amen.

Note:  I've raised my children believing that of all life begins at conception and it never ends from that point on.  Once you have birthed a spirit in a body it lives on forever.  The body of course dies with its' imperfections but the spirit always was and always will be.  While we are here we decide what we become and how we will be rewarded in the next realm or phase of life.  Death is only a relative term in the relationship to the body.  The body is temperal, the spirit is eternal.  The bible says that even the body will rejoin the spirit and be made perfect one day when Christ returns and calls us all home to be with Him.

For the point of this story I was pointing out to my daughter Brooke that she had done a wonderful thing by hearing a cry for help and responding to it.  She had done her best to save a life and by doing so she gave a name to the otherwise unknown kitten.  By taking the time to listen and Trying to help something helpless she gave a  voice to something that would have otherwise gone unnoticed and died in secret without anyone being the wiser.  I explained to Brooke that she Did take the time and because she DID the possibilities are endless of where her little "Miracles' " story could reach.  I promised Brooke that I would write this story and tell others of what she did and that it Would have an impact of some sort even though I had no way of knowing what that impact would be.  People have good hearts and they do listen if given the chance to be heard.  The tiniest of cries for help Can be heard over all the noise of the world if we have ears to hear and hearts sensitive enough to care with.  She said no one will listen to a kid.  I told her we are all just kids at the heart of it all.  "Give 'em a chance, they'll listen", I told her.

copyright 7/07/2006

10:27p.m.

Paula Deann (Roe) Honeycutt Booher

wrappednword@yahoo.com 

Bein' a Mom is the toughest job you'll ever love!  A Fare Well wave to Nikki Lee (Armstrong) Castro but Never a "Goodbye!"

~**~**~

THE WORLD IT IS A CHANGIN'

Roger Dean Kiser

The wife and I left Modesto, California headed to Brunswick, Georgia to start a new job I had taken several weeks earlier. As finances were tight, we sold what little we had accumulated, over the past five years, in order to make the three-thousand mile trip. With only about two-hundred dollars in pocket there would be no fancy meals and maybe, just maybe, one night at a motel to take a shower and get a good nights sleep. The remainder of the time it would be a cheap burger at McDonalds and sleeping in the small car.

Though tired, it always seemed to perk me up, just a bit, as we left state after state behind. When boredom set in I would turn on the C.B. Radio and listen to the truckers yell and scream at one another. When the language would get a little course I would reach over and turn off the radio. About half way through Texas I reached over to turn off the radio when I heard "Is there anyone out there kind enough to help us?"

"Get off the trucker's channel, idiot," yelled a truck driver.

I reached over, picked up the microphone and said, "What do you need?"

"We are stranded at mile marker 576, east-bound side," said a man.

I watched for the next mile marker sign, which read 574.

"I'm at 574 east-bound. What do you need?"

"Can you two idiots get off the trucker's channel?" said the trucker again.

I got no reply from the stranded man.

As I reached mile marker 576 there stood a black man, beside an old brown van. I pulled up behind his vehicle, got out and walked toward him. As I passed the van I looked in and noticed about five elderly people.

"What's the problem?" I asked.

"Not sure. I can't find my wallet. I think I left it in the washroom at a restaurant about thirty miles back," he told me.

"What do you need?" I asked.

"You got any extra gas?"

"Just a minute," I said, as I turned and walked back to my car. I explained the situation to my wife.

"Dad, we got just enough money to get us to Georgia, maybe. We can't afford to help anyone else," she replied.

"I can't just leave them stranded."

"Do what you got to do, hon," she said, shaking her head.

I walked back to the van, pulled out my wallet and handed the man twenty dollars.

"You follow us back to the restaurant and I'll give you the money back," said the man.

"I can't afford to go backwards, I just can't," I told him.

He took my name and new address and promised to send me the money when he reached his home in Jackson, Mississippi.

I followed them to the next gas station and waved as they pulled up to the pump. Then we drove back onto the freeway and continued our journey.

"Are we going to make it, Dad?"

"I don't know," I said, biting my bottom lip.

Leaving Texas we had about sixty dollars in pocket. We knew there would be no bath and good nights rest at a motel.

As we continued through Louisiana the traffic became heavy. All at once my wife screamed. When I looked up I saw furniture falling off a pickup truck driving in front of us. I swerved to the right, as quickly as possible, but still ran over something. I got out of my car and walked to the front to see what damage had been caused. Beneath the car was a small stereo system. It had cut through my right tire, which was now flat. I walked to the trunk to get my jack and spare tire. I was shocked to see that it was also flat. Generally I check and recheck everything before a trip.

As I walked back to the front of my car I saw the pickup truck had reloaded what could be salvaged and that the man was getting back into his vehicle. I knew he saw our flat tire, but nevertheless he drove away.

The wife and I sat on the side of the road for several hours waiting for the police. It was almost dark when they finally arrived. The police advised us that there was nothing they could do, other than call a tow truck. We knew we could not afford to pay for such a service.

After the police left we sat in the car wondering what to do.

"HONK, HONK" went the sound of a horn.

When I turned around to see what was happening; there was that same brown van which we had given gas money.

"Well, I see we aren't the only ones having a little bad luck today," said the man, leaning into my window.

"No spare," I told him.

Well, can't fix the problem sitting there," he said.

He reached over, took my keys out of the ignition, walked to the trunk of the car and took out the jack. I watched him jack up the car and take off the flat. I didn't know what to say and was too embarrassed to tell him that we did not have enough money to buy a new tire and still have enough gas to make it to Georgia.

After he took off the tire he looked at me and said "Go sit in the car and I'll be right back."

I got into the car and watch them drive away.

"How we going to pay them, Dad?"

"I don't know. We'll just pay them for the tire and the repair to the flat."

"What we going to do for gas?"

"I don't know. I just don't know." I said, almost on the verge of screaming.

The van returned an hour later. I got out of the car noticing that both tires were brand new.

"I'm sorry, but I should have told you. I don't have enough money to pay for two tires."

The man said not a word as he placed the tire on the car. He acted as though he did not hear me.

"I'm sorry but I..."

"I heard you the first time," he said.

When the tire was complete he placed the jack and new spare in the trunk and closed it.

Follow us to the gas station," he ordered, like an army sergeant.

We followed them to the next off ramp and into the gas station. He got out of his van and began filling our tank. When done he walked up to the window and said "I'm hungry, lets eat." I looked at the wife who was now speechless, for the first time in her life.

We followed them to a restaurant several blocks down the road. As we got out of the car I looked at him and said, "Thank you for your help but I cannot accept anymore."

The man said not a words. He turned and walked back to his van. He opened the side door and took out a large wooden chair. Then he opened the passenger side door and out stepped the largest black woman I had ever seen in my life. The two of them walked up in front of me and stopped. The man, looking at me straight in the eyes, opened the folded chair and stepped back. The woman sat down and said "Johnny tells me I need to spank your little white butt. Is that going to be necessary?"

In total shock, I replied "No ma'am."

"GOOD," she said.

She got up and walked toward the restaurant, as did the other people in the van. The man walked back to the van and replaced the chair.

It must have been almost ten p.m. when we finally ate. Half way through the meal Johnny excused himself and was gone for more than twenty minutes. When he returned he laid a motel key in front of me.

"I'm sorry but I..."

"MAMA," said Johnny in a harsh tone.

As the large woman started to stand up I motioned for her to sit back down-that a spanking was not necessary.

As we ate Johnny began tapping his spoon against his glass. When everyone quieted down, he raised his water and said, "I would like to make a toast. "This is the way America should be," he said, almost choking on the words he had just spoken.

Everyone took a sip of water and sat there quietly, smiling and nodding their heads to the affirmative.

After eating we all walked to the motel, next door to the restaurant. I shook Johnny's hand and the large woman hugged both me and my wife.

When the wife and I got up the next morning their van was gone. A white envelope was left on our windshield. Written were the words "Thank You and May God Bless." Inside was a twenty dollar bill, folded in the shape of a cross.

Roger Dean Kiser

trampolineone@earthlink.net

Poetry Section

~**~**~

Journeys
Annina L. Anton

annina1@cox.net

Do you remember how
The dreams come in waves
And how we watch as on
The silver screen--a play?

Or act the parts ourselves
So that from deep within,
Messages get their share
Of inner viewership.

The colors ebb and flow
As if a child with paints
Moves rainbows here and there
Across waiting canvas.

Strange, but true, unreal,
The longest journeys of all
Are those we take at night
Without leaving our beds.


Copyright © 2006 by Annina L. Anton

~**~**~

  Exalt Him, Crown Him King
Carol Meeks

Exalt Him, crown Him king;
He who hung the stars above;
tell others of His infinite glory;
tell them of His wonderful story;
exalt Him, crown Him king.

Exalt Him, crown Him king;
He who died for us on the cross;
so our sins could be forgiven;
so blessings could be for the liven'
exalt Him, crown Him king.

Exalt Him, crown Him king;
He who heals us with His grace;
He who will take us home on high;
the One that waits for us in the sky;
exalt Him, crown Him king.

© 2002 Carol Dee Meeks
c_pmeeks@hotmail.com
http://home.midsouth.rr.com/kmhomepage/homePage.html~**~

~**~**~

 Child of God

Carol Meeks

You are God's child
when your heart opens up
and you invite Him in.
You are God's child
when you confess with your mouth
He died and rose again.

You are God's child
when you think of others
and their needs before yours.
You are God's child
when you image Jesus
righteousness and your life soars.

You are God's child
when you have joy and peace
amid trails that don't cease.
Your are God's child
when your actions are consistent with His,
when you know He is I AM, HE IS.

© 2004 Carol Dee Meeks
c_pmeeks@hotmail.com
http://home.midsouth.rr.com/kmhomepage/homePage.html

Readers Feedback

 Carol,
   I am glad you got that done before the fine.  We all live such busy lives
full of so many papers and forms.  I am just glad that you still find the
time to write and share with us all.  Wishing you every joy, Joe

Kathleen Baker's cooking Up Trouble, brought to mind pranks that my family has pulled. Thanks for the laugh!

aro

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