Storytime Tapestry Newsletter

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

October 5, 2006

Today’s announcements

I received an email from Paula and someone else about breast cancer and The Breast Cancer website, and since my mom had breast cancer (she's an 8 year cancer survivor now) I wanted to tell everyone about donating a FREE mammogram to those who cannot afford one by clicking on that site. So check out what I wrote about it on my blog...

TheCatsMeowForWritersReaders

Rosanne
(a.k.a. R.C.Kayla)
Publisher: The Cat's Meow for Writers & Readers Ezine (an online progressive magazine)
http://www.rosannecatalano.net
Author: Touch of Tomorrow - In Loving Memory (book of poetry) and numerous short stories, poetry and articles published online & in print, with more to come... http://thecatsmeowforwritersreaders.blogspot.com
Senior Writer: Storytime Tapestry newsletter; http://subs.zinester.com/98907
COMING SOON: Columnist for Wt~In Spirit Literary Magazine; http://www.wynter.ca

Now onto the good stuff!

Today’s Queue Stories

~**~**~

Richard and the False Alarm

‘Jesus Loves the Little Children’

In 1964 my son Richard was a normal, curious four-year old boy.  He loved exploring, and taking things apart to see how they worked.  It was a beautiful spring day, cherry trees were in bloom, and robins were hunting worms for their new babies.  I, on the other hand, was busy preparing for a Girl Scout mother and daughter banquet in the gymnasium of our local elementary school located not far from our house. In the fall of 1963, I had volunteered as a leader for the brownie group.  I didn’t have children that were old enough to be in the scouts but figured that this would give them good exposure if I took them with me.  We were making flowers from colored tissue paper for the tables.  I brought my four-year old son with me because I didn’t want to leave him with a sitter.  He stayed in the gym with us playing under the tables and with some of the tissue paper, but little boys attention spans are very short. 

We weren’t there very long before the fire alarm was activated. It must have been around three o'clock.  I looked toward the gymnasium door where the shrilling sound was coming from.  There standing, in front of the fire alarm, was Richard.  He was frightened out of his wits and holding his hands over his ears.  “Oh no, you didn’t!”  My face must have been beet red, because all the blood my body produced had flowed to my ever ready pale face.  It was too late; the deed had been executed.  Every teacher in the building ushered their students quickly to their pre-designated areas on the school lawn.  As it so happened, both principles were not on campus, but they were at the traffic light waiting for it to turn green. They looked as each other in puzzlement, “Did you order a fire drill?” “No, did you?” “No. Perhaps it’s a real fire.”  They were relieved when I told them that my four-year old son had activated the alarm.  I apologized for his actions, and assured them that he would never do anything like that again. The school normally dismisses at three-thirty, but both principals decided to let them go home early.  I know the students were happy. I often wondered what their parents thought.

As adults we still find ourselves in situations like my sons.  God forgives us just like those principals forgave Richard.

Janice Bumbalough Marler

poetrybyjan@aol.com

~**~**~

Finding Comfort

Mary Dees

I'm fairly certain that most children were given a nickname by their Mother or their Father or someone close to them growing up. May it be, shortening of their given name or something a little silly that seemed to embarrass you around your friends. Today as a woman, I admit that my mother called me

"Sunshine Flower."   

My mother addressed me this way in our tender moments. Like when I felt discouraged or those days when it was just us two on the front porch in the swing. With my head in her lap she would stroke my hair and she would say; It's okay Sunshine Flower, It's okay! Somehow, with the continuing sound of her rocking me back and forth, I believed her. I felt special and I found comfort in her voice when she uttered my favorite phrase.

Did she call me this because sunflowers grew tall and reached for the warmth of the sun just as I looked to her to help me grow? I never questioned my thoughts then. I just endured them and fell calmly to sleep with the complete certainty that I was loved. I'm nearing 30 now and I still recall with great consolation, the words that would cover me like a blanket on a dreary night. The words that I find myself relying on when my strength seems to falter,

"It's okay Sunshine Flower, It's okay." I hear her voice in my mind.

Then I begin to rummage through my yesterdays thoughts and I wonder; Could she have known back then, just how important her made up little phrase would mean to me now?  My heart still gives way to the new memories we make each day as Mother and Daughter but there are times when I need it most, I am reminded of our special bond.

For instance, a few weeks back. While my Mother was on vacation, she asked that I kept an eye on her tomato plants. To pick any if they were ready. As I walked through her back yard, I turned the corner and there it was, standing at my same height, a Sunflower reaching for the warmth of the sun. I couldn't help but put one hand over my mouth and the other over my heart and ponder whether she had planted this flower in some kind of remembrance of me as her young daughter. I had walked through her back yard many times before and never once until its bloom, did her sunflower ever catch my eye.  

Then I understood with a lump in my throat, the similarities that were there all along. Like her sunflower, I grew because she wanted me, I'm strong and tall because she nourished me and I'm beautiful only because she loved me.

Somewhere in the back of my mind and tucked away in a small portion of her heart, I find comfort in knowing that I remain in constant recognition and in much regard;

"Her Sunshine Flower."

Mary Dees 

marlena7694@yahoo.com

~**~**~

Storms and Prayers
By Vance Agee

On August 2, 2006, a severe storm warning was issued for many places in Western New York. Across Lake Ontario in Canada, Environment Canada had reported severe storms with lighting, high winds, 1” hail and actual tornadoes. This huge system was on its way to us in WNY. I looked out my kitchen window and saw brilliant lightening flashes and bolts across our entire northern horizon, West to East! It would arrive about 10:00 or 11:00 p.m.

As a Christian, I trust in God. I trust in Psalm 91! However, I was still very nervous and felt very guilty about any lack of faith. No, I have never seen the terrible storms out West or in “Tornado Alley”. My dad grew up in central Tennessee. My granddad, the Rev. Levi Durham Agee, was a Southern Baptist Preacher-farmer, as was my great-grandfather Agee. While growing up in Buffalo, NY, I would listen to my dad’s stories about tornadoes and straws driven through trees. He would, of course, tell these whenever we retreated from a thunder storm to the first floor apartment of the house in which we rented the second floor from my mother’s mom and dad. Yes, it always made the real storm more “interesting”!

At this point, may I digress briefly to my first “storm story”, “Kitchen Window”? One summer night, about 2002, the prediction was for very high damaging winds, a storm warning. I hurried outside and worked about two hours to secure everything. Quite pleased with my efforts and worn out, I went inside and washed my hands in the kitchen sink. Then I looked up and through my four kitchen windows out onto the field across the road from my house. (We live in a rural-suburban area.)

Now, I do not see visions or hear voices, but in my mind I “heard”: “Satisfied?”
Then the thought hit me: “Why didn’t you just pray?”

I attempted a defense: “I would have been the only person asking.” Answer: “Not necessarily, and even if so, you alone could have prayed.”

At this point, I did pray for protection from the storm and that it would be sent away.
The reader may already have surmised the result: NO storm. Just exercise.

2000 years ago, Jesus had rebuked storms and winds. God is in charge of weather. We do not have many things from Him because we simply do not ask! *

Several rebuked storms since, for my last storm warning, I prayed at three different windows: kitchen, door, and back.

No reprimands –

and no storms!

Now, it is 2006, and I am “nervous”. I decided to leave a hanging plant on its post, as a sign to God that I did trust His protection. I felt, however, that this alone was not enough. At that point, I walked outside to the driveway in front of the house and faced the distant lightening.

It was time.

I prayed aloud. In my prayers, I asked God to rebuke the storms and to keep them from our area and house. Then, in a sense, I spoke to the storms and to whomever was directing them toward us. I rebuked them in the name of Elohim Adonai Yahweh, God of the Universe, and in the Name of Jesus Christ, the Word, the King. Then I returned inside.

The hanging plant remained on its post.

About 10:00 p.m. the storms arrived. To the North and to the South of us was tremendous lightening. The huge flashes were incredible, greater and brighter than military scenes shown on TV. There was, however, a unique factor in our storm. None of the lightening was really near our house. (One common check is to count seconds after a flash. Light is almost instant, but sound travels about 1100 fps. Just multiply for distance from a strike.) In about an hour the worst of the storm was gone. Once again, there was no damage, not even a broken tree limb.

The hanging plant remained on its post.

--------------------------------------------------------

Note bene:

*Most Christians with whom I share my “sotrm stories” do NOT believe them.

Satan may be the Prince of this World (Luther, “A Mighty Fortress”) and the Prince of the Power of the Air, seeking always our destruction, as he sent winds against Job’s family, and storms against Jesus on Galilee and Paul’s ship on the way to Rome. Jesus simply rebuked the storm and later said that we would do greater things than He!

If we have the faith to ask God, He will grant prayers of immense physical proportions!
What, for example, is the real difference between a mountain or huge tree in the sea and the turning aside of a storm?

As the number of times in which He has rebuked storms at my request of faith increases, I submit that skeptics will need more to consider that God is, in fact, granting prayer. A “scientific” study of the correlation between results of storms without and storms with prayer would be interesting, but I do not need it.

My physical proof is the plant hanging on its post.

Amen.

Vance Agee

vgagee@adelphia.net

~**~**~

Poetry Section

~**~**~

~Breath~

 Mary Dees

Through stained glass I see you, No faults, no doubts.

I breath.

As you reach for me, my heart flutters to remind me that I'm alive.

Your guarded hand lay upon the small of my back.

I breath.

Expecting eyes hold my gaze.

Lifted, I smile.

I breath.

The wet on my face trickles the pillow. You understand.

The sun sneaking, paints your shoulders enchanting.

I breath.

Your voice in only a hum, stills me.

Your love white linen, cleanses me.

I breath.

Arms no longer longing.

Certainty pays a visit to my life.

I breath.

You await my knowing.

You scamper through thoughts.

You brought me here.

Your invitation clear.

Your emotions visible.

Like a mirror between us, we bask in our similarity.

Together in unison...at last,

We Breath.

By Mary Dees

marlena7694@yahoo.com

~**~**~

Green

Mary Dees

Weakness settles in,

It lurks within my dreams.

Antagonizing my anger,

As my envy turns to green.

Bleakness settles in,

Guarding my esteem.

Do I bathe in my estrangement,

As my envy turns to green?

Letting colors in,

Learning what they mean.

I mix them all together,

I loose this shade of green.

By Mary M. Dees

marlena7694@yahoo.com

Readers Feedback

I just loved your poem Dianna!! How true your words ring for me as well. Mary M. Dees

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