Storytime Tapestry Newsletter

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

July 22, 2007

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Helen Dowd

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Today’s Announcements

Birthday wishes go out to Bonnie Geddes: bonniegeddes1@sbcglobal.net

 Article Submissions Directory

This directory offers more than 240 places

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It's a free means to share whatever God has laid upon your heart.

http://iam.homewithgod.com/glimpsesofgod/articlesubmissions.html

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Today’s Stories

~**~**~

 A Weekly Column

By Joseph Walker

 valuespeak@msn.com

LITTLE TENT OF HORRORS

Joseph Walker

The canvas walls of the two-man tent were closing in around me. The heavy cotton fabric of my sleeping bag wrapped around me like a boa constrictor, tightening its grip with diabolical efficiency. My heart was pounding. I was breathing hard, each anxious breath escaping my mouth and forming a doom-laden cloud in the cold mountain air. Off in the distance a coyote howled in what I was sure sounded for all the world like fiendish delight.

“I’m sorry,” I muttered to Anita, who was snuggled in her sleeping bag next to mine, “I’ve gotta get outta here.”

Anita didn’t reply. I assumed she was sound asleep. Good, I thought as I pulled on my shoes, my coat and my hat and stepped out into the dark, desolate night. She won’t see me cry.

OK, I wasn’t actually crying. But I was preparing to freak out. And not just because I’m the world’s worst camper (you can look it up – it’s in Wikipedia under “Coleman Challenged”). I was also exhausted from a long day of hiking in the mountains with 250 teenagers from our church youth group. I was overwhelmed from trying to organize activities to keep them busy learning and feeling the things we wanted them to learn and feel. The temperatures were unseasonably cold, plunging below freezing as the night wore on . . . and on . . . and on.

Oh, and did I mention that I’m claustrophobic? You might just as well slide me into a casket full of spiders as ask me to sleep in a small tent and a tight sleeping bag.

So stayed in my little tent of horrors as long as I could, then I left Anita and went out to face the freezing night alone. The sky was clear and ablaze with stars. The North Star was as brilliant as I have ever seen it, and I could swear the stars of Ursa Major were winking at me. The wide-open stillness of the scene was beautiful – and a refreshing change from the smothering closeness of the tent I had just left. But it was also cold – oppressively cold – and I knew I needed to find some way to keep warm or I would be forced to dive back into the tent and risk being swallowed alive by my boa bag.

Shivering, I wandered around the camp and found myself standing near the fire pit. Of course I didn’t have any matches or anything else with which to build a fire (that would require, you know, planning and foresight and good camping skills and stuff), but I thought I could see a few glowing embers remaining from the fire we had enjoyed earlier in the evening. I found a stick and poked at the embers, and they flickered invitingly. I laid the stick against the embers and immediately it began to smoke.

“Come on, baby, light my fire!” I muttered.

Hey, you’re liable to do anything – even channel Jim Morrison – when you’re cold and claustrophobic.

From within the smoke I could see a small flame burning on the tip of my stick. The flame grew as it engulfed more of the stick, and I began racing around the camp to find more wood. Within a few minutes a nice little fire was burning, which did wonders for my cold hands.

But it did even more for my shivering spirit. There’s something about looking into the dancing flames of a campfire that exhilarates and calms – simultaneously. I kept the fire stoked for the rest of the night (much to the chagrin of Anita, who, it turns out, awakened and spent the biggest part of the night wondering if her wacky husband had finally lost it and was howling at the stars with the coyotes). And when the morning sun began painting the surrounding mountaintops with soft light I felt a surge of energetic elation knowing that the night was over.

And I had survived.

As we continued to trek our way around the mountains on a beautiful clear, warm day it occurred to me that there are times for all of us when life seems cold and dark and oppressive, and we find ourselves alone – shivering and fearful. If we can just find something to cling to long enough to help us make it through such times – something like the fire of faith – eventually a new day will dawn with new warmth, new energy and new light.

And we will survive.

~**~**~

Three Generals
Bill Walker
missourisage@yahoo.com

In World War 2, two of these three generals met twice. Each time on different sides of the table. The three generals names were: Arthur Percival, Jonathan Wainwright, and Tomayuki Yamachita.

Yamachita drove a hard bargain for Percival at Singapore. Percival and Wainwright were released from a Japanese prison and made the trip to the Philippines for the surrender of Yamachita. The roles were reversed. Yamachita found himself in dank quarters
before his hanging day for war crimes.

It is said he ordered the deaths of many wounded soldiers of the British. This is strange when it is a known fact he walked into a room and saw dead and dying brought on by the order of a junior officer. He killed the officer on the spot himself.

You may like to go back and read the reasons that lead to the different surrenders at different time.

The strange thing was the different treatment given Wainwright, and Percival on reaching home in 1945.

General Wainwright was treated like a hero. The red carpet was rolled out. General Percival was treated like a traitor.

If one reads the facts, what was either of them to do? They held out as long as it was possible. The odds were against them winning, there was no help on the way.

Churchill sent orders to fight to the last ditch, then die, Percival I guess didn't follow orders.

Roosevelt sent orders, do the best you can. You know what you can do, and can't do.

Both generals knew the battle was lost, therefore when it became totally hopeless, they surrendered.

In each case there was no help coming. At Singapore, the British had already lost two major ships. The planes they had was long gone, had no tanks, where as the Japanese had tanks, planes and control of the waters. True the British had a larger force of men, but with out equipment, men can be over run. Men with only a rifle can not stop rolling tanks. Why do you think tanks and heavy guns are used in war? The tanks and heavy guns will win out in the end, along with control of
the air.

It is a known fact, Britain main thought was save the home land, the out posts can either sink or swim on their own.

Again it comes down to arm chair generals who weren't there. It is easy
to sit in the comfort of an easy chair with a cup of tea, and tell how it should have been done while smoking a big fat cigar. Right Mr. Churchill?

Percival was taken down in rank and drummed out of the army after he came home. Wainwright came home to a hero’s welcome, given medals, raised in grade to full general, and later retires.

At the signing of the papers on 2 Sept 1945. on the USS.Missouri. General MacArthur, gave Percival and Wainwright each a pen that was used for the signings. These two men stood right behind MacArthur.  On the side that laid down the last hard bargain.

Tinker and Poo; The Boys Write
http://www.iuniverse.com/bookstore/book_detail.asp?&isbn=0-595-35741-5

~**~**~

Poetry Corner

~**~**~

A sense of Humor,

Cynthia Groopman

To possess a sense of humor is indeed so refreshing,

Lightens and brightens a world 

that at times may be so depressing.

.

To be able to make a person smile and laugh,

results in good health

and the pursuit of happiness as its aftermath.

A sense of humor is indeed as lively as a musical tune,

,As exquisite as the elegant floral bouquets

that regally flourish and bloom.

To possess a sense of humor is indeed a gift from god above,

For humor heals and mends a broken and weeping heart

with rejoicing laughter and with the mirthful ointment of love.

 Cynthia Groopman

Cynthia.Groopman@verizon.net

~**~**~

Oh, How Happy I Feel
Cynthia Groopman

Oh, how happy I feel,
As joy paints picture that are so colorful in my mind.
Oh, how happy I feel,
As only the beautiful tapestry of delightful emotions can express and reveal.
I feel on top of creation,
As my smile is beaming with majestic elation.
My sky of life is so brilliantly clear,
And my heart dances to a tune that is so melodically loving and dear.
I do not have a problem at all,
And I stand proudly, strong and tall.
The sky is the limit, I say,
For tomorrow will be my special day.
For, happy, I feel, as you all know,
As I rejoicefully bask in victory's golden caressing glow.
 

 Cynthia Groopman

Cynthia.Groopman@verizon.net

 ~**~**~

What Your Emails Mean to Me

By Cynthia Groopman

On my computer, every night,

There is a beautiful sight.

Your email smiles at me,

Reading your words adorn my life with joy and festivity.

Where ever you may live,

verbal hugs and cheerful thoughts to me, you so generously give

.

When I am downhearted and full of despair,

Your soothing words are indeed an answer to my heartfelt prayer.

Your sense of humor makes me giggle and laugh,

For you are my ointment of love and your words are a salf.

Keeping in touch means a great deal,

For in your emails your deep affection and caring are

revealed.

May we email for a long long time,

As we join hands and bask in cyber land's golden sunshine.

Cynthia Groopman

Cynthia.Groopman@verizon.net

~**~**~

 On a Diet We Shall Go

Cynthia Groopman

When we looked at the scale, the weight was high,

Maybe too much candy or delicious apple pie.

When we reach middle age, it is difficult to lose weight,

,

Not good to sit around and to ruminate.

Calories we must count and a plan we must obey,

Important to learn to eat in a healthier way.

Avoid junk and fatty eats,

Do not indulge in pastry or ice cream treats

.

Exercise must be done,

Enjoying walks and having a good run.

So, my dear friends, enjoy the dieting game,

Happy and healthy you will remain.

Cynthia Groopman

Cynthia.Groopman@verizon.net

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