Storytime Tapestry Newsletter

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

October 11, 2006

Today’s announcements

Now onto the good stuff!

Today’s Queue Stories

~**~**~

Don’t Pity Me

By Joan Clifton Costner

 
"Don’t pity me!" someone fairly shouts, and I just wonder, "What’s wrong with pity?"

Then, the old familiar words seep out of my mind:

"In pity angels beheld Him and came from the World of Light,
To comfort Him in the sorrows He bore for my soul that night.
How marvelous!  How wonderful!  And my song shall ever be:
How marvelous!  How wonderful!  Is my Savior’s love for me!"

When my thinking clears, I just ask the question, did He pity me?  Is that why He came?

He didn’t come to do a wrong.  So, what’s wrong with pity?
 

Lord, help use to realize the limits of our language.  Whether we do good deeds
in Your name because we have sympathy, empathy, or PITY, it’s the good deed
that counts and the condition of our heart - indeed, the intent that You clearly
see.  Thank You, Lord, for having pity on my soul!

© 2006 by Joan Clifton Costner

jody@ptsi.net

Under His Wings  Heavenly Poetry 

Joan is a Heavenly Inspirations Author.

~**~**~

A Smile Is Worth Everything Under the Sky

Bev Sobkowich

As I got out of bed and bumped my head on the dresser, my little Pom, Willis,franticly licked it better.I smiled and kissed his little black nose.

He snuggles every day to make sure he is loved. Who could help but love him!

Our other Pom is Whisper, a very tiny Pom. When we got him, he was a mess. He had a bump on his head, blackened teeth his ribs were showing, and his skin was covered with white scaly stuff.

We worked on him and gave him lots of love and he is a beauty.

So Willis is a shiny Black and Tan and Whisper is a lovely Red Sable.

They start the day with a smiley demeanor and end the day with a happy face.

 Bev Sobkowich

beviejo@shaw.ca

~**~**~

 Rainbow Bridge Gang

Tinker and Poo

tinkerpoo2000@yahoo.com

Tink and Poo and all the gang, we was just setting here, waiting for our evening meal.  Wondering what is on the menu,  when all at once Missy and Gracie jumped up and took off running down the lane.  There they met a beautiful Dalmatian.  They greeted one another, and came walking back yapping back and forth.  When they got to the gang we got to met the new comer. Thumper.  and of course Rowdy was so happy to meet her also.. Missy and Gracie had told him all about her.

Thumper,  after a bit told us,  she had been fighting that thing called cancer, she also had lost a leg in her life time,, but she had a loving family and she was well taken care of.  They did ever thing to make her life worth living.  She knew her time was short,  this cancer thing just was to much, and her age was against her. 

She got to go visit with Missy and Gracie,  got wonderful treats,,  and how she loved the meat balls.  Oh that made the visit so nice,, those treats and the happy times playing with Missy and Gracie was just so nice. 

Yes Thumper is here, happy,, no more cancer and she has her lost leg back. She can now run and play with her friends once again.  The sad thing is her big people she had to leave them, but we all know that in the sweet by and by,, all will be together once again. 

Thumper, Missy, Gracie and Rowdy has much to talk about.  It may be a hard time for the rest of us to get any sleep tonight after supper.. Wonder what is on the menu?

How did you guess?  MEAT BALLS and spaghetti.  Heavy on the Meat Balls.

Yes Deb, and family.  Your much loved Thumper is here.  Waiting like the loyal dog she was, just waiting, and playing with her friends.. All just waiting for the mist to part and up the lane some day you too will be coming home.  Thumper will run to greet you and Happy Days Are Here Again.   And you can walk over the Rainbow Bridge together to live in the Mansion on the hill.

Remember, Thumper may come visit you in a dream. And who is to say it is a dream? As long as you think of Thumper, she is not far away. Just on the other side of the curtain.

Tinker and Poo; The Boys Write

http://www.iuniverse.com/bookstore/book_detail.asp?&isbn=0-595-35741-5

~**~**~

THE LITTLE GUY NEXT DOOR

Mark Crider

Back when I lived in an apartment near Oak Park there were several families in the fourplex.  We didn't have much of a yard for the kids that lived there to play in, but there was a vacant lot next to the end where I lived.  Of course you know me, I had my garden there. I just can't do without my fresh veggies.  Most of the plants there were milkweeds, with their purple little blooms continuously blooming all spring and summer. The butterflies, of course, used the milkweed as their only food source during their migration to their wintering grounds.  I had a few lingering tomato, eggplant, okra and squash and was out one evening tending them.

The little guy must have been about four.  His mother worked from early

morning ‘til dark and the neighborhood ladies kind of watched him during the day.  She caught the bus before daylight every morning and was home after I had had supper every evening. The ladies would see he had lunch, supper and a nap during the day.

Seems as though his real curiosity was my garden.  He would watch me

water, tend the plants, and pull weeds. I would give him warm, fresh-picked tomatoes and a salt shaker sometimes and always shared with the other neighbors  because they would water and pick when I had to work overtime several days in a row.

One day I noticed he had something in his hand. It was a butterfly and he had broken a wing off of it. The butterfly was walking around fluttering on the ground as I walked over.  I told him that the butterfly had no way to get around and eat because he was injured and couldn't fly anymore and would surely die. This made the little guy terribly sad and he started to cry.  He told me that he would do anything to make it up to the butterfly and if I knew anyway to help -- maybe even take him to the doctor.

I told him that we could maybe do something for him, but he would have to promise never to harm them again because they may be little angels that were practicing to go to heaven someday.  This really got him upset so I told him that I knew a few things about butterflies and if he would promise to help me I would see if we could make it up to him.  I made a screen cage and we placed it over a tomato plant and put the butterfly on the leaves. I cut some milkweed and we wove it in with the tomato plant. The butterfly crawled around in there eating from the milkweed flowers. He helped with this chore for several weeks and even enlisted the neighbor ladies to help him put fresh flowers in the cage for him when I had to work late or was gone for a few days.  The little guy really had the ladies into saving the butterfly, telling them the angel story and all.

Then one day I came home and everyone was in tears. I mean it looked like everyone had lost their mothers or something. The butterfly had died. I went to the cage and took it off. Looking around I found the eggs under one of the tomato leaves and showed them what the butterfly had left.  I told them it was his gift for the kindness that they had shown him. They didn't really understand, but I told them to wait and see what happened -- maybe a miracle, but we had to wait and see.

            Well I began to water that plant and built a shade over it so it would keep going through the heat, all the time telling the little guy that we had to keep working to pay the butterfly back for his injuries.  He accepted the work with diligence and kept a close watch on those eggs.  One afternoon he came running up to me telling me that there were worms eating the tomato plant. I went and looked. Sure enough, the eggs had hatched.  We watered that plant and really kept it going and, then one day, I noticed that there were eight little chrysalises hanging on one limb.  I told him that they were the children of the butterfly and we needed to hang them under an eave of the house for the winter so they could grow and be strong for the coming season next year.

That little guy watched that screened container hanging there all winter. He checked it every time he thought about it and would report to me every time he saw me.  Spring came and I came home one afternoon and found him and all the

ladies all looking at the screen cage. There were eight of the most beautiful butterflies you ever saw. They were still drying their wings.  He kept saying, "The angels gave us eight for taking care of him.”  He ran, telling all the neighbors on the block, screaming it to all the houses until the whole neighborhood was there watching the butterflies.  We all visited for awhile, then I took the screen down, opened it up and they singly flew out, circled around a bit and went to the garden area and began dancing about the milkweed flowers. 

I didn't realize it then, but it was Easter weekend and they heard the whole story about the butterfly from the little guy and the neighbor ladies.  One was the pastor at the church around the corner.  Sunday morning as I sat there with the little guy, his mom and the other neighbors nearby in the pews we heard the pastor tell the story about the butterfly and how more angels came to replace the dead one and rejuvenate the life in the garden because there was someone who cared.

Mark Crider

mark@cccoating.com

Readers Feedback

Carol,
   Thanks for sharing my bike riding adventures with all your readers today.
  I am so rich to have good friends like you in my life.  Wishing you every
joy, Joe

Carol: this story of Joyce Hernandez, was very powerful and sweet. I lived in Tampa, FL for five years and could relate to part of her story.... This brought memories to me too.! Tannia

I loved your story Joyce and it brought tears to my eyes. You see I am Grandma! Having lost Granpa recently and seeing the pain in the children and grandchildren's eys and hearing it in their voices I am so 'aware' that whe I go it will be so much more pain for them all. I think most grandparents become aware of this and  try so hard to find a way to ease that pain. I too tell them all lots of stories and say I love you every time I see them. \

What was so interesting about your story is to read how you are keeping them 'alive'  for your children. To know that maybe I too will live on in my children's hearts.  No I am not dying, nor even sick in any way, but the thoughts come unbidden sometimes. Thank you for finding such a lovely way of saying, Our loved ones live on and how sweet the memories are. Violet

 Violet 

Where do we go from here: Responding to School Violence – Johann Christoph Arnold: We all go back to say to same: WE NEED GOD IN OUR LIFES TO SOLVE OUR VIOLENCE IN SCHOOL AND IN OUR WORLD!!!!!!!!! AMEN, Tannia

The Cascade Affect: A Mexican, A Dead Dillo, and a Deputy

Mike Firesmith

Excellent story, visual, very entertaining and funny!! Great job Mike!!

aro

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