Storytime Tapestry Newsletter

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

May 13, 2007

Today’s Announcements

 A happy Mothers Day to one and all.  I am still working on the writing project.  I have 20 articles to complete for the project and I have done 13 so far.  Still debating on whether or not I can afford myself the break to share a little bit of Mothers day with my boyfriend, Matt.

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Today’s Stories

~**~**~

 Passing On the Gift

By Janet Perez Eckles

"The righteous man leads a blameless life;
blessed are his children after him." (Proverbs 20:7(.

My commitment to a diet vanishes and at the mention of Mother’s Day. Creamy Chocolate and other goodies are often tucked inside colorful wrapping paper for me on this special day.

Though this holiday is often expressed with flowers and candy, sadly, neither lasts very long.

Years ago, I was blessed with a precious gift that still ripples gratitude within me—not from my by children but by my own Mom.

At thirty-one, my sudden blindness had darkened my world in every way. My parents expressed their deep concern, but I kept my anguish from them, wanting to avoid intensifying the pain I knew they felt for me.

Then one day, my mom sat next to me, held my hands in hers and said, "What would you say about your father and me moving in with you? I can help you with the boys."

I sighed with hesitation. Although my three small sons would be delighted with the idea, I wasn’t sure how my husband would react. But when my mom’s tender words continued, I knew this kind gesture on her part was an important way to show her love for me. My husband and I discussed the possibility, and he agreed with enthusiasm.

The transition for them had to be difficult, which included giving up their spacious condominium. And while she and my father would be living in tight quarters in our home, I knew their love could fill a football field and they’d be able to overcome any inconveniences. We began the adjustment period, stressful at times, but my mom’s delicate demeanor and caring nature made it easier for all of us to re-establish our roles.

Mom could have chosen to show her love and support for me in many ways. But looking back, the kind gesture she chose renewed my hope and fueled my desire to move forward. The fact that I knew someone loved me enough to sacrifice for me gave me a new perception of my blindness.

Years later, with my mom’s support, my life has been filled with success, both personal and professional. Her unselfish giving as she demonstrated kindness wrapped in love has enriched my life. She taught me that the most important thing wasn’t being able to see physically, but to be able to see beyond our own comfort to help those who need us most.

She provides much more than physical assistance with the household chores by showing me the power of love that brightens any darkness. Like a priceless treasure, I have tucked it away in my heart laced with golden strings of gratitude.

Each Mother's Day is a reminder for me to do the same--pass on to my children the gift of lasting love.

**

Janet Perez Eckles is an inspirational speaker, writer and the author of Trials of Today, Treasures for Tomorrow—a true story of triumph, victory and success.

www.janeckles.com

Janet Perez Eckles - www.janeckles.com
Faith and love with a Latin flair.

~**~**~

Mother's Day 2007

Bill Walker

missourisage@yahoo.com

Mother's Day 2007, how I wish I could give my mother her gift of flowers, a dinner out, but she is no longer here to receive such. 

Instead it is a day of remembrance of the one woman in my life, I could call on for many things.

The one who stood by my bed side when I was almost at deaths door a time or two in my life. I had a couple close calls, I remember one, the other I guess I was too young to remember.  That was a mild case of Polio I understand now, she told me I couldn't move, children was taking sick with this problem, many never pulled through. But I remember other bouts with sickness, mother was always there.  

The woman that did with out, in hard times to see that her little boy had a dime to go to the Saturday movie. I think that is where I picked up story telling. I came home and told her what the movie was about.

Today I will not be going out to her grave, I use to do that on Mother's day, her birthday, and such. I don't go but 2 or three time a year any more.  You see it brings back more tears and I will stay home and remember. Besides she isn't there, she is in Heaven, combing, and brushing, and walking her army of Pekes, and Bobby the German Shep.

For all that still has a mother to talk to, please do so while you can,  there will come the day, she is no longer here, she went home to Heaven. 

I wish I could say Happy Mother's Day Dear Mother, but mine is up there with Jesus. But she is close by I know, just a memory in my heart now.   

God made mothers for many reasons. To teach, train their children, to worry about their children, to love their children, to do so much for their children.  There is no more a tougher thing then a mother.  There is the one woman that will fight to the last ditch for her child.  I know, I had one such.   Mother, I miss her so. 

Tinker and Poo; The Boys Write

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

~**~**~

  ValueSpeak

A Weekly Column

By Joseph Walker

valuespeak@msn.com

JOY TO THE POWER OF JEN

Something wasn’t quite right with Emily.

You could see it in her eyes. You could hear it in her voice. You could feel it in the slightly disinterested way she gnawed on your fingers.

Well, what did you expect? Emily is only 10 months old.

With her two older sisters she had come to spend a couple of days with her Grammy and Grandpa – that would be my wife, Anita, and I. It would be the first time in her very short life she had spent more than a couple of hours away from her mother.

And for the most part she did really well. Oh, she fussed a little now and then. And she seemed to need to be held most of the time (which, truth be told, we were delighted to do). And she wasn’t much interested in roaring when she was asked: “What does the lion say?”

But she ate well. She cuddled sweetly. And she slept through the night. In fact, Anita had a more fitful sleep than Emily did, as she instinctively awakened every two hours or so to check on the infant slumbering so peacefully just a few feet from her bed.

Emily and I slept like babies. Anita slept like a mother.

Still, there was something about Emily that wasn’t quite right.

“Maybe she’s coming down with something,” I said to Anita as I worked to coax a giggle out of the normally jovial baby.

“She’s fine,” Anita said, smiling and cooing at her youngest granddaughter like the child-rearing veteran that she is. “She just misses her mommy, don’t you, Emily?”

Emily almost smiled her agreement.

Almost.

I have learned to trust Anita’s perspective on such matters, but I was still secretly clinging to my “coming down with something” theory when Emily’s mother (our daughter-in-law, Jen) arrived to pick up the girls. I took Emily with me to open the door. I wish I had taken a camera with me, too. A photograph of the look on Emily’s face when she saw her mother for the first time in two days would explain more about the value and impact of motherhood than her grandfather could write in a decade’s worth of Mother’s Day columns. It was pure, unadulterated joy. Joy squared. Joy to the power of . . . well . . . Jen.

Emily threw herself against her mother and wrapped her chubby little arms around her neck, the joyful expression on her face not diminishing one whit. She hugged her for a moment and then started kissing her on the cheek. When she was through kissing Jen she leaned over to Jen’s mother and started kissing her cheek. And then she leaned toward me and started kissing me on the cheek – big, wide, joyful kisses from a little girl suddenly filled with more love than her heart could hold. Then she hugged Jen again, followed by another round of kisses for Jen, Jen’s mother and me. When Anita arrived home after a quick trip to the store, she and Emily’s big sisters were included in yet another round of kisses as love erupted and flowed like magma from the emotional Vesuvius that suddenly was our baby granddaughter.

“Are you happy to see your mama?” Anita asked, smiling, as she tickled the baby who was still lovingly wrapped in her mother’s arms.

Emily smiled broadly, her eyes sparkling vibrantly, and she giggled that deep, throaty, from-the-very-depths-of-her-soul giggle that had been missing for a couple of days. Mommy was back, and somehow that made everything right with Emily.

Which, it seems to me, is what motherhood is all about: love, happiness and joy squared.

To the power of Jen.

~**~**~

Poetry Corner

~**~**~

~Only A Mother~

 Mary Dees

Baby kisses on my knuckles,

Smiles caught by belly chuckles.

Hair tangled in tiny fingers,

Lavender bath, your sent still lingers.

Pajama's soft, in pink and blue,

Mommy remembers, both of you.

Bay-ba's laugh, fluttering angel wings.

Sissy's hug, butterflies in the spring.

Her golder hair, his dimpled chin.

A mothers heart, so full again.

Time a thief, dripping through the glass,

Stealing the glimpses from our past.

One fact that time can not detour.

Although the clock will try I'm sure.

God's lending hand, in my mind remains,

Blessed by He, I gave them names.

Shayla Paige, my rainbow high,

Jarrod Kieth, my boundless sky.

Maybe only a mother I forever will be,

But two angels were placed, in life with me.

~You will always be loved by me~

Your Mommy,

Mary M. Dees

marlena7694@yahoo.com

~**~**~

 Mothers

by Nell Berry  5/10/01

Mothers were uniquely created by God.

To be a good mother, we all need the Lord.

Mothers were created as Angels unaware,

They are always on call, dispensing loving care.

Mothers have a privilege given by God, of giving birth through

the power of the Lord,

by which we are created and formed,

in His image, wrapped in Mother’s arms.

No other creature was ever so blessed,

no other creature was given such a test.

To be a mother is a formidable task,

for the great pain and sorrow, they surely do not ask.

But not many mothers would trade their child,

for childless nights and empty smiles.

They would sacrifice all earthly pleasures,

for their child, their angel, their valued treasure.

God is glorified, we worship no other,

and we sure do thank Him for our precious mothers.

Author: louis_berry@bellsouth.net

Nell Berry, a housewife and mother of four, grandmother of nine, and great grandmother of two sweet baby girls. I live with my husband in Tuscumbia, Alabama. We have been married 57 years in June. I like sewing, crochetting, knitting, cooking, baking, writing poems/song lyrics and short stories. I also like singing in church and of course, going to church.

 ~**~**~

Readers Feedback

 Carol,
    I am delighted again to be in Storytime with Bill and Cynthia.  Cynthia's poems have
wonderfully captured the beauty and joys of May.  I agree with Bill too about our dog's
being thinkers.  Mine always seem to know when they can't do something for themselves.
That is when they come and get me to do it for them.
    Keep up the fine work my friend.  Storytime is a blessing to everyone who reads it.
Wishing you every joy, Joe

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