Storytime Tapestry Newsletter

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

March 16, 2007

Today’s Announcements

Please send your prayers for Jazmyn my granddaughter. she had a tumour removed from her left leg today and has a cast the complete length of her leg and her foot is also encased.  Her father died in her arms from a massive heart attack when she was just six years old and her Grandad passed away last year! How much can a child take?  I am feeling so helpless and wishing I could have taken this for her. Your prayers for Jazmyn added to my own will help so much! Thank you all. Violet: violetsrblue7@hotmail.com

I have a job interview this afternoon, plz pray for me for God's will

to be done with this interview.

Thank you for your prayers!

Love to all,

Barbara:  weymouth@surewest.net

I want to thank you Carol, for allowing me to send my work... We continue to need the prayers of others at this time as we face the news of daddy’s recent testing. We will be going for those results next Wednesday and are believing for no further spreading of this dreaded disease Cancer.

Sandy: sandylh@cox.net

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Today’s Stories

~**~**~

THE CHILD WITHIN

By: Joseph J. Mazzella

     I got that look from my daughter again the other day. It is the look that says: "Dad, will you please just act your age?" You see, my daughter is growing up fast and is on her way to becoming a beautiful, young woman. Even though she is still a teenager she already has the maturity and wisdom of an adult. I, on the other hand, have been busy enjoying my second childhood ever since my first one ended. It seems strange to my daughter then that sometimes she appears to be the older and more grown up of the two of us.

     What my daughter doesn’t realize, though, is that I used to be a child, teenager, and young adult myself. I can distinctly remember what it was like to be each one of them. In fact, all three of them still live on inside of me. I can still choose to be anyone of them I wish. While I know then that I have to be an adult most of the time, I also know that being a child is a lot more fun.

     Children are so much closer to their love. Children are so much closer to their laughter. Children are so much closer to their joy. Children are so much closer to their light than we adults are. They seem to know instinctively what most of us have forgotten: that God loves us and wants us to be happy in our lives here. That is why no matter how old, tired, and wrinkled this body of mine may get, inside of it there will always beat the heart of a child. Our souls may be eternal, but I see no reason why they can’t also be forever young.

     Don’t be afraid to live with the joy of a child. Don’t be afraid to love with the heart of a child. Don’t be afraid to laugh with the delight of a child. It is your childlike soul that will light the way to the Kingdom of Heaven. It is your childlike heart that will bring you to oneness with God. It is your childlike spirit that will fill your life here with happiness. Let the child within you out then. You may get that look from time to time, but the joy is worth it.

Joe Mazzella

joecool@wirefire.com

~**~**~

ValueSpeak

A Weekly Column

By Joseph Walker

Valuespeak@msn.com

A LIFE WORTH CELEBRATING

Joseph Walker

I have known Neal for 30 years, but I guess I didn’t really know much about him.

I knew that he had every tool in the world and that he liked to use those tools to tinker with . . . well . . . everything. I knew he loved the out of doors. I knew he loved John Wayne movies. I knew that he ate oatmeal for breakfast nearly every day. And I knew – or at least, strongly suspected – that beneath his quiet, crusty, 96-year-old exterior was the heart and soul of a good old boy.

But that was about it.

In fact, when he died a couple of weeks ago I was troubled. Not necessarily because he had died – he was 96 years old and his health was failing, so we were all kind of expecting it. But because, from my limited perspective, it didn’t seem that he had lived much of a life. There was no long list of educational or professional awards or accomplishments for his obituary, no community clubs or civic organizations to notify of his death. He didn’t leave much of an inheritance for his children and grandchildren – in fact, I’m not sure he left anything at all other than his much-modified, much-maligned pick-up truck (solar panels included).

And nobody seemed to want that.

“There probably isn’t going to be much of a crowd other than family,” I said to Anita as we drove to Neal’s funeral. “I just don’t know that anyone else will care.”

I couldn’t have been more wrong.

The church was filled with neighbors, friends and family members, and they all had a Neal story to tell – or two. One neighbor told how he mentioned to Neal that he was having some trouble with his car. After he explained the problem Neal told him to replace a certain part (tube? Hose? Cable? It’s all car innards to me). The neighbor said that was the one part that didn’t look worn – he didn’t think it needed to be replaced. Neal said, “Well, that’s where your problem is – if you don’t want to fix it, I guess that’s OK.” So the man replaced the part – and you already know the end of the story, don’t you?

I knew Neal was good at fixing stuff, but I didn’t know he was THAT good.

One of the speakers at the funeral talked about how Neal was hired by a local church to do some difficult and expensive technical repairs on their building and how he did the job – superbly well – and then gave the congregational leader a bill that said: “Paid in full – God doesn’t charge interest.” Someone else mentioned how Neal had secretly paid for one of the young people in the neighborhood to do volunteer work for their church in South America. A family member told about how Neal averted a minor disaster by wading in and fixing a water leak when he was supposed to be “just visiting” their home.

Evidently stuff had a way of breaking when Neal was around – and he had a way of fixing broken stuff.

And that isn’t a bad legacy to leave behind, when it comes right down to it. Neal wasn’t educated, but he was smart. He wasn’t eloquent, but he was profound. He wasn’t wealthy, but his life was rich. There won’t be any buildings named after Neal, but he leaves behind countless homes, offices and motor vehicles that felt his knowing touch – and were fixed.

I learned a lot about Neal at his funeral. And it turns out I was wrong about him, as we so often are when we judge people – even people we have known for years and years. This was more than just a gruff old guy who sat in a chair and said little whenever we visited him. This was a good man who lived a good life – a life worth celebrating.

Even if nobody wants to inherit his truck.

Joe Walker

~**~**~

Poetry Corner

~**~**~

Freedom's Precious Light
Cynthia Groopman

Oh, freedom's precious light,
Reassuring are you devoid of fear or fright.
Bright and calming are you as you joyfully beam,
Creating a society so loving and serene.
Oh, freedom's precious light,
Your eternal glow is such a blessed sight.
May you continue to glow,
Like a springtime flower, full of energy shall you flourish and grow.
For God, kindled your eternal flame,
In our hearts and souls your radiance will forever remain.

Cynthia Groopman
Cynthia.Groopman@verizon.net
Copyright ©2007 Cynthia Groopman

~**~**~

Your Friendship I Treasure
Cynthia Groopman

Your friendship, I so greatly treasure,
Having you as a part of my life, gives me such delight and pleasure.
When I hear your voice, my heart begins to dance,
Filling my sky of life with sunshine glowing radiance.
In times of happiness you share my joy,
And when I am sad, depressing thoughts you vanish and destroy.
More precious than any jewel in the world,
Is your friendship to me,
As these words are spoken to you lovingly.

Cynthia Groopman
Cynthia.Groopman@verizon.net
Copyright ©2007 Cynthia Groopman

 ~**~**~

My Dad's Arms

Cynthia Groopman

As a child, when I experienced fear,
My dad would enfold me into his arms so tender and dear.
When I would slip and fall,
Enfolded in my dad's strong reassuring arms, would heal all.
When I was so small, and wanted to look up high,
Into my dad's arms I would go and felt like a star in the sky.
As an adult, when I need comfort and support,
Hugging my dad would provide me with soothing thoughts.
Then my dad began to feel so ill,
His breathing became labored and he was so still.
Into my arms he did land,
I kissed him and squeezed his lifeless hand.
For now he was enfolded into God's arms so loving and strong,
Echoing in his ears were the melodic lovely angel's song.

Cynthia Groopman
Cynthia.Groopman@verizon.net

Copyright ©2007 Cynthia Groopman

~**~**~

Sisters are we

Cynthia Groopman

Sisters are we,

What a pleasing delightful thought for you and for me.

We are either young or old,

Into the arms of sisterhood, we embrace and enfold.

We are from all four corners of the earth

Laughing, smiling and spreading gladness and mirth.

We are of all different shapes and sizes,

emailing brings lovely surprises.

With hearts that dance and sing,

To you sisters, loving thoughts I shall bring.

Cynthia Groopman
Cynthia.Groopman@verizon.net

Copyright ©2007 Cynthia Groopman

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