Storytime Tapestry Newsletter

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

April 8, 2007

Today’s Announcements

Happy Easter Everyone

Hello.  I just signed up for your newsletter.  I am excited about it.  Can I make a prayer request for my new mission I am starting?  Here is the information about it:

Here is what Michael and Martine Miller are doing for the children in Haiti.  Please help us to sponsor 1000 children in Haiti this year.  This will provide food and education in a hopeless situation.  Our website is www.mountainkidsinc.org   For less than $1 a day a child can have food, education, a future.  Thanks!

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Today’s Stories

~**~**~

LITTLE NORMA’S MIRACLE EASTER DRESS

by Mariane Holbrook

“Don’t worry, honey. I’ll think of something.”

With that reassurance from Mother, my seven-year-old sister bounded upstairs to bed, danced a little jig in the hallway and finally settled down for restful sleep.  Mother always “thought of something.”

Mother stood alone by the curtained window. She had been unwell for months. Part of her problem was pernicious anemia, a condition that left her drained and bone-weary. Giving birth to six children in twelve years had taken an alarming toll on her frail body. The years of the Great Depression of the 1930s had ravaged not only our family financially but millions of other families as well.

Little Norma wanted a new dress for Easter. A green one. The hand-me-downs from her three older sisters had been handed-down one time too many. Easter Sunday was “dress-up-day” at our small church in upstate New York. Ladies wore spring hats and colorful voile dresses. Little boys wore stiff, new suits and ties. And little girls sashayed down the center aisle with their crinoline petticoats peeking from under full pastel skirts and tight bodices. It was the one day in the calendar year every little girl wanted a new dress.

Mother crossed her arms and wondered where she could find material to make little Norma an Easter dress. Buying cloth was not an option; there was barely enough money for food. In fact, food was in such short supply that more often than not tomato dumplings or hamburg gravy were served to the less-than-enthusiastic children who gathered expectantly around the large oak dining table.

Finally, Mother walked out on the front porch which was partially covered with orange trumpet vines providing a lattice of protection and privacy. Sitting on the metal porch chair, she began to pray:

“Father, my little girl needs a dress to wear to church. I can make one if I can just get some material. And she wants a green dress for spring. Please, Lord, help me figure out what to do.”

The next morning while Mother was hanging wet sheets on the back yard clothes line, a kind neighbor approached her. “I brought over a dress for you. It’s plain brown but it’s made of excellent material. Perhaps you or one of your daughters could use it.”

Mother accepted the brown dress and thanked her warmly. After a pleasant conversation, our neighbor left and Mother rushed inside.

Little Norma was in school so Mother began ripping out the seams of the brown dress. Her excitement grew as the dress separated into several pieces of fabric.

She talked quietly to herself. “I can bleach the pieces of material, but where will I get five cents for some green Rit Dye? This would make a lovely Easter dress for little Norma. I could surprise her with it.”

Mother carried the pieces of fabric to the kitchen sink where she filled a large pan with water, pouring in the small amount of Clorox still remaining in the bottle.

What she witnessed left her speechless.

Slowly and effortlessly, the Clorox removed the brown dye from the material, leaving it the most delicate emerald green cloth Mother had ever seen. She rinsed the material in cold water and rushed to the back porch to inspect it in the bright sunlight.

It was breathtakingly beautiful. There would be no need for a 5 cent envelope of Rit Dye. No dye could ever replicate this lovely shade of spring green.

She raised her brimming eyes toward heaven. ‘Lord, I know this miracle came directly from You. I can’t explain it otherwise. Thank you, Father, for such a lovely Easter gift  for my daughter.”

Two days later, Mother quietly carried a little green dress with puffed sleeves, a white collar, and full skirt into little Norma’s bedroom. Mother hung the dress in the closet, then bent to kiss her sleeping daughter lightly on the forehead.

“Happy Easter, darling.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mariane Holbrook is a retired teacher, an author of two books, a musician and artist.

She lives with her husband on coastal North Carolina.  She maintains a personal website

www.marianholbrook.com and welcomes your Emails at Mariane777@bellsouth.net.

~**~**~

  Greater Love Hath No Man

John 15:13

The scriptures tell us in John 15:13 "Greater love hath no man than this; that a man lay down his life for his friends.

How much greater God's love for us that He sent His only begotten son, Jesus Christ, as an atonement for our sins.  Atonement: the reconciliation of God and humankind through the death of Jesus Christ.

My father, a devout Christian, rededicated his life to God when I was approximately six or seven years old.  Easter was the highlight of our spring.  It meant new shoes, new dresses, new coats and new hats.  I remember the color red and I remember the red cherries on top of my new hat.  Our shoes were polished to a lustrous sheen, and we could see our reflections.  We strutted around like beautiful peacocks.  The forsythia hedges, planted around our neighborhood, were adorned with early yellow spring foliage.  Easter was definitely in the air.  What a pity that Easter, like Christmas, is the only time people choose to attend services.  God is here everyday. Matthew 18:20:  "Where two or three are gathered together, there am I in the midst of them."  How sad that they miss out on some of the greatest sermons ever preached.  My father diligently studied his bible and was diligent about bringing us up in the nurture and admonition of God's word. When I was young, I didn't understand the depth of God's love for us, in that He sent His only son as atonement for our sins.  I'm not sure I still do.  I know what it is like loving my children or loving my grand children but I can't seem to fathom my Father in Heaven's love, I.e. Luke 6: 27 Love thy enemies, do good to them which hate you. (I find that a difficult commandment).  Jesus asked God to forgive those that were putting Him to death. In death He was compassionate.

I hear people say things like, "Look at all those hypocrites that go to this church or that church!" My answer:  "Do you know anyone who not a hypocrite?"  "What better place for a hypocrite than in church?  Who knows what they may hear, or the Holy Spirit, may put upon their hearts that will change the hypocrite?  These are the very people that Jesus died for."  This is why He gave his live and shed his blood those two-thousand years ago.  This is exactly why God, His Father, laid all of our sins upon Him.  I don't go to church for other people.  I don't go because people may talk about me when I am absent, (or present), I go because I need the food offered from the pulpit, from God's Holy words.  My soul needs nutrition.  I wish it could have been me sitting at the Masters feet.  I wish I could have been Mary that day as she sat at His feet hanging onto His every word while Martha was working in the house. (Sometimes I'm more like Martha).

7:  He was oppressed, and He was afflicted, yet He opened not His mouth; He is brought as a sheep before her shearers is dumb, so He openeth not His mouth

11:  He shall see the travail of His soul and shall be satisfied; by His knowledge, (God talking), shall my righteous servant justify many, for He shall bare their iniquities.

I have only one son.  He has caused me grief but I don't think my heart could take it if he were tortured and beaten to death.  God gave us His only son, a perfect son.  Greater Love Hath No Man.

Janice Bumbalough Marler
poetrybyjan@aol.com

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Poetry Corner

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WHAT HAPPENED TO THAT CROWN OF THORNS?

by Mariane Holbrook

What happened to that crown of thorns that pierced His blessed head, 
The one we should have worn but one He chose to wear instead? 
That crown whose thorns still carried stains of royal blood so rare 
That DNA can’t match it; there's no sample to compare. 

I’d like to think when God looked down upon His suffering Son 
And wiped His ageless eyes in sadness at what man had done, 
That God retrieved that blood-soaked crown and held it to His breast 
So soldiers couldn’t hold it up, make fun of it in jest. 

Perhaps God placed that crown of thorns in Heaven’s Trophy Case, 
Reserved for things from martyrs who had known God’s special grace, 
For Jesus was a martyr, too, the greatest One of all, 
For laying down His life in answer to His Father’s call. 

Some glorious day, all kings and queens will stand before the throne 
From all the ages they’ll be there, the famous, the unknown. 
They’ll look upon the Son of God who sits in Mercy’s Seat, 
Then bending on their knees, they'll place their crowns at Jesus’ feet. 

The faithful come before Him, those who worshipped Him on earth, 
All saints since the Creation, all believers since His birth. 
And there before the Master, stripped of meaningless fa?ade, 
They lay their crowns before Him, this beloved Son of God. 

God strides to Heaven’s Trophy Case, removes the crown of thorns, 
The one that Jesus wore when He endured those scoffs and scorns. 
God lifts it high for all to see; as shouting fills the air, 
The wood turns into diamonds, all the thorns to rubies rare. 

The saints explode in worship, as the mighty choir sings, 
"Hail, hail, our blessed Saviour, Lord of Lord and King of Kings,
You're worthy, blessed Jesus, and it's You whom we adore.
All heaven bows before You, You shall reign forevermore!"

****

For a lovely, free, laminated bookmark of this poem,

please send a #10 SASE (indicating the name of the poem

you desire) to: Mariane Holbrook,209  I  Ave,

Kure Beach, NC 28449

Mariane Holbrook is a retired teacher, an author of two books,

a musician and artist. She lives with her husband on coastal

North Carolina.  She maintains a personal website

www.marianholbrook.com and welcomes your

Emails at Mariane777@bellsouth. net.

~**~**~

HE AROSE!  THE SHOUT THAT CHANGED THE WORLD

by Mariane Holbrook

They gathered round the market square, in clusters great and small.

In vain they tried their very best to comprehend it all.

Some pointed back to Calvary’s hill, some lingered near the tomb,

While others cried to God above to lift this cloud of gloom.

The hours went by, some went on home, no answers for their grief.

Some felt deceived, some felt betrayed and drowned in unbelief.

That Saturday was worst of all, for they were sure He’d died.

Their friends had stopped their mocking now; they’d proved that Jesus lied.

By Sunday morning all had changed and shouting filled the air,

“Jesus arose just as He said, And He’s no longer there!”

The women ran from house to house and banged upon each door.

“He is not dead!  Our Saviour lives! Just like He was before!”

The gathered round the market square, they sang, they danced, they prayed,

They peered into the open tomb where Jesus once had laid.

To Thomas, Jesus showed His hands to help his unbelief.

Five hundred hovered near Him as He took away their grief.

The empty tomb, the risen Lord, the Cornerstone He laid;

Upon those words our faith depends, for us the price He paid.

All praises go to Jesus now and evermore shall be,

For He arose!  He conquered death, for me eternally!

----

Mariane Holbrook is a retired teacher, an author of two books,

a musician and artist. She lives with her husband on coastal

North Carolina.  She maintains a personal website

www.marianholbrook.com and welcomes your

Emails at Mariane777@bellsouth. net.

For a lovely, free laminated bookmark of this poem, sent a stamped

#10 business size envelope (SASE) to Mariane Holbrook,

209  I  Ave., Kure Beach, NC 28449

 ~**~**~

Readers Feedback

Jastine’s Article: This was a brilliantly written piece and it touched my heart!  Her words painted pictures for me!

Hugs vona Marengo

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