Storytime Tapestry Newsletter

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

October 1, 2006

Today’s announcements

Happy Birthday Neal Hartselle, husband of our moderator, Thelma Hartselle many you continue to have many, many, more: tlsq@xmission.com

If anyone out there knows where I can buy a hard cover copy of Uncle
Tom's Cabin that's guaranteed to be good shape let me know. I'd like to
buy it.
Thanks
Mark Crider: mark@cccoating.com

THE OPERATION WAS SUCCESSFUL
Just home for a day,
  So i need to make this quick

Thank you ever so much for your prayers and kind thoughts.

I did not expect my mother to come out of the surgery. I placed her in
God's hands and knew she  might decide to go home during the three hour
operation. There was one thing that might help her decide which side of
the veil  she wanted to be on.  Of her nine children her youngest,
Susan was unable to get a flight out to be with mom until two days
after the operation. In a phone conversation I told susan I felt the
only reason mom was holding on was to see susan.

Firstly mother surprised many of us, including the doctors . She came
through the operation. THen she made it through the recovery room.Then
she came out of the anesthetic and was herself. She is of course on
heavy morphine due to the back deterioration.

Yesterday at 2:00 , Susan arrived from Ohio.  I know just seeing her
youngest child lifted my mother's spirits.  I know she loves us all
very much. But Susan is her baby (though she has children of her own,
she remains the youngest and the baby!) Mom was so happy!

I am extremely grateful for prayers on her behalf. Love makes the world
go around and I know prayers are a strong display of LOVE.  This love
must surely touch the heart of our dear Heavenly Father.

For all who prayed for my mother, Pat Snell, I feel such gratitude and
"love". Thank you.
She is 90 years old and has cared for herself up to this point in time.
With the extreme spine deterioration that may no longer be an option.
We wait to see how the recovery will go from the unexpected and
emergency surgery.  Apparently when she fell last Sunday three things
happened. There was the perforation which meant poisons were being
spewed into the abdominal cavity, there was the jarring which affected
the spinal column and nerve endings (which were already being pinched
by the calcification at the openings) and the heavy bruising to the
left thigh. At least we now know why her feet and legs kept on going
numb yet sending out spasms of pain, over the past two to three months.
(the spinal chord and nerve endings were being pinched).

Again thank you for caring and demonstrating that caring through your
prayers. I am so blessed.

Hugs
Ellie: shaley@telusplanet.net

I just received a call from my daughter in law to let me know that one of the grandsons in Florida has been diagnosed with Hepatitis C. He is not doing well right now and in the hospital.  His name is Sam and he is in his early 20’s.  Thank you all so much for your prayers.  God bless with love always. Alice: reyjaz@aol.com

Now onto the good stuff!

Today’s Queue Stories

~**~**~

THE RUNAWAY                   

Louise Nomani                          

 The sun was bright in the early morning light, and the mist floated above the fields as the air attempted to clear. It was a magical morning, and I walked to the barn to put the horses out to pasture. Severe showers the previous evening had washed everything clean and nourished the roots of all that was green and all that was inked in brilliant pinks and golds and purple.  It was a morning to give thanks to the marvels of retirement for I had time to reflect and time to drink the beauty of the morning

            Seven greets me as I enter the barn.  I know him well.  I know his impatience.  “Yes, Yes” I say as he dashes circles around me in the big box stall.  I release lock number one.  Seven has not learned to open double ended snaps.  Thank goodness for that!  He is pushing me now showing little respect for space.  “Bad boy” I admonish him, and he backs even as his head is nodding up and down.  He is like a child waiting to open presents under the Christmas tree.  I undo the bar and release lock number two—also a double ended snap for all else is not horse proof.  Oh he is so excited for it is the beginnings of a new day, and he cannot wait to go out and play.  I open the door pushing it wide for Seven has a phobia of narrow openings related to memories of starting gate trauma.  I make him wait; I make him acknowledge my space, and then I open the door to that world of soft sand and green grass and space to run and play.  “See you” he says and doesn’t look back.

            Oh my God!  The gate between the pasture and hayfields is open.  The gate was left open.   There is nothing I can do for I cannot run fast enough.   Seven has spotted the open gate.  I can tell that he is already celebrating.  He looks at me for a short instant just to make sure that I too know that the gate is open. He is teasing me or is it an invitation?   He wants to go for a romp. He wants to explore.  He wants to stretch his legs and show off his speed.

  Well he has escaped, and I can hear his laughter as he tests the dimensions of this new playing field.  What a beauty he is.   My heart has stopped.   My legs feel wooden, and I am frozen.  What to do?  Well of course a grain pail.  But I know that this pony will not interrupt his playtime for a little grain.  It is a futile effort.  I go to the open gate with prayers on my tongue.  There are so many dangers in that big open space.  There is the barbed wire of the farmer’s fence on the far side of the hayfield.  There are woodchuck holes hidden in the grass just waiting for an unsuspecting hoof.  And there is the road that takes us to town, and it carries cars that go much too fast not expecting a flying horse to be on their pathway.  I am dying.   It is agony.  It is heart  stopping.

            This horse swallows the field with huge strides that own the dirt, the grass and the watery brook which flows softly through the meadow.  He flies through the Goldenrod, the Black Eyed Susans, the Buttercups, Yarrow and Queen Ann’s Lace.     He is magnificent with his copper coat that is burnished with red and gold highlights. It looks like satin shimmering in the sun in this morning light.  He gallops with the freedom of wholeness for Seven is healed, and he is like a miracle moving with the soundness of a healthy horse.  I am full of joy and full of wonder as I watch the ease of his strides.  I remember too well the injury that crippled him.

Seven is going to tease me though.    I chirp, and he comes to me with all of the freshness and enthusiasm of a young boy showing off his first frog.  I try to entice him with the grain, and he is pleased to take a bite but then he quickly backs out of reach.  I cannot hold him.  He is laughing at me.  I plead with him to come just a bit further through the gate so I can make him safe.

            “No, Not yet” he says, and he wheels around and bucks with abandon knowing that I am admiring him and his show off antics. 

He is off again, and his strides test the perimeter of the 40 acre field.  He races to the far corner of the field to see if that pretty little black mare is out in her paddock. She is not.  He races up the hill looking for the old gray gelding that calls to him evenings when the coyotes are howling and all need a voice.  There is no one for him to tease with his liberty.   I thank the good Lord for keeping those playmates inside.  

Seven’s beauty is riveting, and his blazing speed is exhilarating. There are cars stopping on the road to admire this horse that is racing his history with the wind at his back.  The wind encourages him to take longer and longer strides. He leaps over imagined fences. He flows like water in spring runoff.  Seven blazes his way through the field like a Pegasus.

 Oh, He spots his admirers and once again races to me for a pat, a prayer and another handful of grain. He is all puffed up knowing his power. He is loving the attention.   

            There is a screeching of tires and brakes and catastrophe is barely averted.  Seven watches with cool interest.  The near accident does not hold his interest long, and He tears off once more for it is impossible for me to hold this 1200 pound horse that has fun on his mind.  My stomach is churning, and I feel ill for there is a blind spot on the rise near the pasture, and the parked cars are in great danger.  Oh dear.  A pick-up is coming much too fast; .I cannot watch.  Tires cry in desperation, and the sound of metal on metal sounds like death. My mind screams with images of horror.

     It is not serious.  Again Seven comes to inspect his impact.  He laughs at the spectators.  What a fuss.  He bows and snorts and then wheels about and is off for another gallop about this playground. Finally, he is slowing. . He would like company.  He races towards me once more with a gallery of spectators encouraging him to do the right thing. He acknowledges their admiration prancing in a large circle.  His tail waves in the wind.  His nostrils are flared.  His eyes invite.  His ears are forward listening to far away voices in his constellation.  He is Pegasus.

There is a long hesitation.  I chirp again begging this beast to come with me. His eyes are still bright with mischief.  He cannot decide.   All in his audience hold their breath wanting him to be safe.

Prayers are answered.  Seven quietly allows me to lead him through the gate.  He shakes his head as if in disbelief at all the fuss.  I know that his mind is again registering the excited cheers from the grandstand as he is lead to a winner’s circle. I know that he remembers the glory and the excitement of his racing history.  He remembers, but what a triumph this day has been for today he became a Pegasus.  Today he learned to fly.

Short story by

Louise Nomani

windmill@tdstelme.net

 August 2006

Poetry Section

~**~**~

There are countless children around the world in need of our support and love, and although a large number of us don't have the means necessary to provide a child with a loving home, there are charities that we can contribute to almost everywhere we turn. And of course there is always "the power of prayer." Please keep these children in your prayers daily and give what you can.

~~~My Name Is Angel~~~

Mary Dees

Her perfect little piggy tails,

Bounce as she skips by.

Her lacy dress, bright and pretty,

Clean blue just like the sky.

Smiling like she's not afraid,

Because she's never really been alone.

Singing Mary had a little lamb,

Outside her brand new home.

100 flowers of various colors,

Light the walkway like a torch.

A maple tree growing free,

Her Mommy watching from the porch.

Twirling in the fresh mowed grass,

Neighbors laugh and wave hello.

Her Daddy, coming home from work,

Smiles, winks and pinches her nose.

With supper on the table,

Her Mommy waves them both inside.

C'mon on honey, her Daddy says;

We've got you a big surprise!

All three setting at the dinner table,

The little girl squirming in her seat.

Mommy, Daddy I can't hardly wait, she says,

Now please, can I have my treat?

How would you like a sister, they ask?

Oh' has mommy made one just for me?

No, it would be more like your favorite movie Annie,

But she would live with us you see?

Yes, oh' yes could I? she begs,

Would she have our last name too?

She could have my dolly's,

And we could play like sister's do.

Every day for a week,

The girl stood at the window pane.

Then finally a car drove slowly,

Down their flowered lane.

A girl with floppy piggy tails,

And pants torn, came stepping out,

Of the car that brought her here,

To this brand new big white house.  

She's here Mommy and Daddy,

Let's go bring her inside!

She's here with us now Mommy,

So why is it that she cries?

Honey it may take a while,her Mommy says

You see she's never really had a home.

She's never had a family to care for her,

She's kinda, always been alone.

Well we will be here, won't we Daddy?

We will love her all the while.

We can be her family now,

And give her back her smile.

Yes sweetheart, that's just what we'll do,

And then her Daddy scratched his chin.

Reaching his hand out softly, he said;

Child, won’t you please come in?

Reluctantly, she took his hand,

While twirling her piggy tail all tangled.

Nice too meet you, with a curtsy she said;

Hello my name is Angel.

By Mary M. Dees

marlena7694@yahoo.com

~**~**~

Paula Deann (Roe) Honeycutt Booher

wrappednword@yahoo.com

copyright 6:13 a.m.

September 23, 2006

"Nestled In The Bosom of Wisdom & Light"

written by

Paula Booher

Honored readers, listeners, and guest

I'm not the youngest, nor the oldest,

I could never claim to be the wisest

Warmest nor the coldest.

Not the weakest, tallest, shortest

Even most modest, cutest, or strongest,

My heart has not been broken so vast

Or completely that my story is longest.

There are sages gathered here

Timeless tenderhearted renderings Dear,

I'm amongst Gods' Most treasured it's clear

My longing is to Hear.

What they have to say

Each and Every day,

At work and at play

While I make my way.

The Greatest Gift of all

The One He chose to call,

To lead them and install

The sweetness of Carol!

I find myself humbeled

Meek and most small,

Even though my stature

Finds me quite tall.

Among these fine beings

More than mere humans,

Above the great angels

I find them tride true ones.

To some I am windy

Others a story teller,

While some quote I'm a poet

More would hide me in a cellar.

I don't take offense any longer

Nor do I cry,

I found my hearts longing

And I will not die.

On that day when the sun rose

He spoke ever of His Sons plight,

You have a unique home

"Nestled In the Bosom of Wisdom & Light".

I dedicate this little Ditty to those wonderful souls who have Chosen to call Storytime Tapestry their written works' home.  What a pleasure it is to be among such delightful, insightful, and gifted people.  It is truly a Joy for me to be Senior Writer # 287.  I feel like a Somebody and tell my friends, family, and children about all of you.  I even have a license plate coming with the letters WTR-287 on it.  Before Storytime and Carol Roach and the freedom to express the words in my heart openly, I was just in a room alone with my words on papers in boxes and files hidden from the light of day.   I Praise God for the new friendships and the world He has opened up for His Words to have new meaning for me to share with others.  We are not to hide our light under a bushel and it burdened me to have this wonderful gift and to hide it away.  Carol gave me the freedom I longed for for So long.  All of you have given me much more.  The opportunity to explore and live in your lights as well.

Thank you all So much for inviting me to be a part of His wonderful world.  The loneliness is over and for that I "Thank You" all Very Much!

love,

Paula

wrappednword@yahoo.com

~**~**~

Readers Feedback

Carol, this is a wonderful program!!!!
I am also very interested in getting people to tell their stories on tape,
if possible.  At our church's Women's Ministry, I have videotaped a
number of ladies giving thier "testimony" -- basically their life story,
and how the Lord had changed their lives.  It was beautiful, when
after a young Mother died in a wreck, they were able to have her
speak at her own funeral via videotape, giving everyone there a
great assurance of her love and her faith.  God bless you for this
wonderful project.  I hope it really takes off all over the nation!
Love to you, and God bless your continued ministry to others!
Frances

Hope Beyond Hope by Michael T. Smith: Beautiful story.  We never appreciate peace until when trouble struck.  We never appreciate our homes until one losses a roof over the head.  War is evil, it is bad, ungodly.  Lets yearn for peace.

GEORGEWATERS OJEIGBE, LAGOS, NIGERIA – gojiegbe@oregun.jhplc.com

Michael Smith – Re: Hope Beyond Hope - I was working at a Call Center when 911 happened. It was very emotional. One of my coworkers had a son living on NY and she was unable to contact him. The cousin of my guitar teacher, NYPD, lost her life helping out at the Twin Towers. She left behind an orphan toddler and a widower. A dear brother in the Lord, had a scare. His oldest daughter was studying in NY. Thanks to God's mercy she woke up late that morning and missed her train. Her stop was the train stop near the Twin Towers which got buried. 

For a brief moment America was once again, One Country, Under God.... AMEN  - Tannia Ortiz-Lopes

Senior Writers

Chief writer: Sharon Bryant

Chief researcher/historian: Hartson Dowd

Agee, Vance; Apted, Violet; Baker, Kathy; Batt, Al; Berry, Nell; Blaine, Pamela; Boda, Ginger; Booher, Paula; Buhagiar, Victor; Cassady, B.J.; Costner, Joan Clifton; Cavalera, Robyn; Crider, Mark; Dees, Mary; Deming, Barb; Doherty, Maria;  Dowd, Hartson; Dowd, Helen; Gilbert, Robert, Jr.; Gold, Ron; Goodier, Steve; Grisham, Mary-Ellen; Braun-Haley, Ellie; Harris, Kathy Anne; Henry, Linda Ann; Hunt, Sharlett; Hymes, Christina; Jacobson, Gary; Kiser, Roger Dean; Kerens, Claudia; Kevin, Tim; Jenkins, Pamela; Liles, Norma; Lily Jodi Flesberg; Lock, Joyce; Marlor, Janice Bumbalough; Mazzella, Joe; Meeks, Carol; Mizrany, Mary Carter; Morris, Deepak; Ojeibge, Georgewaters; Petry, Dianna Doles; Roberts, Susan; Shiveley, Debra; Shaw, Bob; Sims, Richard; Smith; Michael; Streidel, Saskia; Swarner, Ken; Vaknin, Sam; Verhoeff, Jan; Walker, Bill; Walker, Joe; Warner, Gordon, K; Walsh, Sue; Weymouth, Barbara J.; Whirity, Kathy;

Wainland, David; Westerfer, Clara; White Robert;

Storytime Tapestry Staff

Carol Roach - Founder/publisher

Thelma Hartselle - Co-Founder, Moderator

Clara Westerfer – moderator

Bob Johnston - moderator