Storytime Tapestry Newsletter

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

August 21, 2007

Publishers Favourite Sites:

Rosanne Catalano

http://www.rosannecatalano.net/

Michael Smith

http://subs.zinester.com/86758/

Barbara Weymouth

penwormprayerwarriors-subscribe@yahoogroups.com

Helen Dowd

www.occupytillicome.com

Today’s Announcements

Donations are always needed to help with the operating expenses of running the newsletter and to keep Storytime Tapestry the quality newsletter you are so accustomed to.   

Please note that Storytime Tapestry is a free newsletter to members and there will never be a cost for the newsletter. Donations are purely voluntary and no member should ever feel guilty for not making a donation at this time.

Today’s Stories

~**~**~

 SET FOR LIFE

By: Joseph J. Mazzella

     I saw an advertisement for a new game show on television the other day. It was called "Set for Life" and people in it will compete for a monthly check that will supposedly "set" them for life. For some reason seeing this advertisement reminded me of a moment when my own family was definitely not set for life. It was just after a fire had destroyed our home when I was a boy. We had no insurance and the fire had taken everything we had except our own lives. When my Dad looked through the ashes he could only find one thing: the plastic case that my Mom always kept her wedding and Mother’s rings in. It had melted around them and saved them from the flames. I can remember Mom crying when he brought them to her. They were not worth much money, but they symbolized the priceless love and joy that our family shared. I can see now that this love and joy were our true treasures. They were all we really needed to be set for life.

     When it comes to truly being set for life we have to look away from our paychecks and look within ourselves. Making a living is not the same as living. Money and stuff may be nice to have, but the pleasures they bring are momentary and fleeting. True happiness comes from real treasures and the real treasures in life are the treasures of Heaven. They are the treasures that lie in each of our souls. They are the treasures that bless ourselves, our families, our lives, and our world. They are love, joy, peace, patience, goodness, kindness, and oneness with God.

     Don’t keep looking for the spare change that this world gives you when you have a treasure box of priceless gems within yourself. If you want to be set for life then get yourself set to live.  Give your love, share your joy, and shine your light to everyone you meet. Pray and thank God for your life everyday. Smile, laugh, sing, hug, and help everyone you can. Enjoy the true treasures of your soul and let others do the same. Then you will be set for this life and the next.

Joe Mazzella

joecool@wirefire.com

~**~**~

 The Competition

Louise Nomani

I was excited to be there.  The smell of clean leather and clean horses always stirs my center, and today I wandered the isles wanting to pat all those curious heads with bright eyes that hung over gate or stall door.  I refrained for youngsters and parents were rushing about getting their mounts ready for the competition.   The black mare had a muzzle of velvet and she pleaded with me as I walked past.  I heard her question.  “Do you have a carrot, a lump of sugar?  She was twisting her lips trying to pull her wishes out of the air.  I laughed at her and then laughed harder as her ears went back and she snapped her teeth together.  I stayed out of reach of those teeth.  It was clear this horse took herself too seriously.  She didn’t like being laughed at; I reminded myself to watch my manners.  A big gray gelding was stabled next to her, and his sweet demeanor was evident in the soft brown eyes.  What a joy he would be to ride, I thought, and I knew he was someone’s great friend. I envied them the friendship. 

I saw her then, the twelve year old with dark curly hair. She was a beauty and    looked a real pro in her breeches and riding boots of smooth black leather.  “Rachel,” I called and she waved at me with a nervous hand. She needed help I could tell and I hurried to her. “Where’s your mom?” I asked.  “She’s gone to get some lunch,” Rachel answered.  She gestured towards the horse with an impatient hand.  “Rafter is being a misery.”  The horse was pulling her about in his restlessness. He was tossing his head and rubbing against her shoulders knocking her off balance.  He was excited and nervous and too big for the little girl. I took the lead from her and started to walk the horse in small circles to quiet him.

“Have you ridden yet?”  I asked   “One class,” she answered.  “It was a big class but we took a fourth place.”  She looked at me as if to hear that a fourth place was good enough.  “That is great!” I said with enthusiasm. It was great for I could tell that Rachel was intimidated by this big chestnut horse.  Rafter was actually her mother’s horse, but, she had begged to ride him in this show.  Perhaps there was someone she wanted to impress.  My thoughts wandered; m y instincts were correct...  I followed Rachel’s gaze and saw him.  He was a tall lean boy with thin browned hands and a sunburned nose.  I saw him looking back at us, and Rachel waved at him in the casual way that barely acknowledged   his presence.  Rafter was finally settling, and Rachel was regaining her confidence.  “When do you ride next?” I asked her.  “I have two classes after lunch” she answered. “We’re jumping in the 10^th class.  I’m worried abut that one.”  “You don’t have to do the class, I responded.  You shouldn’t jump if he’s not going well for you.”   “I know, I know. Mom says he’ll be fine. It would be easy for her.”  Rachel said quietly. “I shouldn’t be afraid.” Rafter was showing his sweeter self now, and he was nuzzling Rachel’s hair.  Rachel had relaxed, and I gave her back Rafter’s lead.  The horse was quiet in the shade of the stable.  I relaxed too for I saw Jennifer approaching with hot dogs and drinks.  We exchanged greetings.  I didn’t know her well for she was a new neighbor, but she had horses; and that made for instant bonding. I had come to know Rachel for she visited me sometimes after school before her mom got home.  This didn’t feel like the right time to join them so I let them eat and excused myself wishing Rachel good luck in her classes and promising to see her later.

Horse shows are not all glamour and pomp.  Lead line classes and equitation classes seem unending unless one is the horse, the rider or the parent. I was an exception for I knew Rachel’s insecurities and could empathize.  I watched Rachel ride in the junior equitation class, and she did well though she did not place.  The boy with the sunburned nose was riding the gray, and he took a second.  I noticed the many looks he exchanged with Rachel, and it was clear that young romance was on the hoof.  It gave me a warm feeling.  There is huge satisfaction in seeing youngsters share a passion for the grand four footed animals we call horses.  Well yes, some of us have called them other names as well.  No matter.  The competition fueled the youngsters’ efforts, and I could tell that it fueled Rachel’s confidence with her horse.  She was riding well, and Rafter was listening to her hand and leg.

The afternoon grew hotter and long.  It seemed to me that there was less patience all around from judges, riders and horses.  I was ready to leave, but Rachel’s jumping class was next on the schedule; I was anxious to watch her.  I was nervous too for I had been watching the warm up area. There were a great many horses doing the jumps, and many of the riders were older and well experienced.

I saw too many crops and too many spurs and some of the young riders were clearly over mounted.  I feared that Rachel was one of these.  I spotted her as she approached.  All seemed well, and Rafter looked magnificent in his bright copper penny coat and white stockings. His ears were forward, and the two of them gave a regal profile.  I waved to Rachel and called “Good Luck” I crossed my fingers and said a silent prayer.  I had seen this horse act out with Jennifer, and knew that he could be a handful. Jennifer was with her daughter being the coach and directing every move, admonishing Rachel for every little error.  I could see the girl’s face start to freeze even as her hands tightened on the   reins.  I could see the tension start to build in the horse’s eyes.  I turned away to find a place at ringside. Anxiety was pounding in my head.  It felt like a premonition of disaster, but what does one do with such feelings?  Old age sometimes brings wisdom but most often it is unwanted and unsolicited.  Like all mothers Jennifer wanted the best for her daughter.  She wanted the best but, I thought, she is expecting too much and asking too much!

The first riders had completed their rounds, and I noticed the boy on the gray as they masterfully flew over the jumps. He had a clean round.  I clapped loudly as he left the arena.  Odd I thought how quickly one begins to feel like family when they share the love of a horse.  The boy looked at me and smiled and waved.  Yes, I thought, we’re family.

Rachel wore the number twelve on her back.    It was almost her go, and I put my fears aside and watched her approach the ingate.  The horse and girl made a beautiful picture, and I snapped a photo to keep the image real.  It was then that I noticed the spurs.  Rachel was wearing spurs! My heart stopped, and I felt a cold wind course through my body as that knowledge registered.  My screams were silent.  I could not stop her.  

Rachel and Rafter entered the ring and began the course. All was well, and I chided myself for my fears.  Three jumps to go and the big gate was next.  The flower pots and tree s at the side of the gate looked menacing to the horse.  Rafter refused.  Rachel turned him to give it another try.

I could hear Jennifer screaming at her daughter.  “Use your spurs!” There was no time for logic or discussion.  There was no more time for schooling this horse.  Prayers were on my lips.  Rachel turned the chestnut again towards the gate and was spurring him through his resistance.  It happened then.  Rafter exploded with a sharp turn on the haunches followed by a great leap and buck. 

The little girl with the dark curly hair flew high into the air as high as a house.  She flew like a tree’s twig in a wind storm.  Time stood still.  All motion ceased; all sound vanished.  I felt frozen in time and space.  No one in the grandstand was breathing.  The silence was deadly.  Rafter escaped in an excited gallop. I couldn’t see Jennifer.  Rachel lay on the brown dirt unmoving and soundless.  I pulled myself through the fence and ran to her praying all the time.  We need the Lord’s strength at these times.  I was so afraid for it had been a huge fall and she was too still, too little.  Thank God for riding helmets, I thought to myself, but there was too little solace even in that knowledge. Her eyes were huge when I reached her.  I can’t breath” she mouthed.  “Be still.” I said, but I couldn’t breathe either until I saw the color start to return to her to her face.   How can one not believe in God?

The air had been knocked out of her lungs.  I could remember that agony.  It took a moment to pass. She lay quiet and then began to breathe, and my relief to see her chest go up and down made me weak.   “Can you move?” I asked after a few moments, and she carefully moved her arms and legs testing the pieces of her. She sat up slowly, and the crowd cheered.   I helped her up then, and we left the arena to the applause of an audience that never got used to the huge falls of the young riders, and the image of soundless, motionless children lying in dirt.  The boy with the sunburned nose was waiting for us by the gate.  He never saw me. His eyes were only for the girl.  “Are you okay?” he asked Rachel, and she nodded her head in an affirmative reply.  “I think you’re the bravest girl I’ve ever seen!” he said, and in an instant I knew that those words were the grandest trophy Rachel could have won this day.

Louise Nomani            July 07

windmill@tdstelme.net

~**~**~

Readers Feedback

 Dianna, Thank God that your lump in breast came out as harmless. I pray for your health and that you are pretty much needed by your son and mother.  May God protect you.

Regards

S K Jandu

Hello Carol

You are very honest in expressing your deepest feelings as you done in this article.  When I was first employed in Coventry Citizens Advice Bureau as a Debt Counsellor, I could not believe at the scale of poverty people were suffering from. These people were not often shy of working but victims of their circumstances. I used to help them by sorting their short term problems such as: directing them to charities providing free food, overnight sheltors for homeless

and long term such as: getting them council homes, social security benefits and finding them employments. I have seen men and women crying out to me for help and heard their most awful stories. I have expressed these concerns in our local newpapers and magazines. I have fought for their rights in courts and tribunals. I have fought for the rights of disabled women and children escaping domestic violence. We do need to shake our local and central government to raise their awareness on these issues.

Regards 

S  K Jandu

Storytime Tapestry Angels

Angels on earth, they exist they are out there.  Angels come in all ages, shapes and sizes, civil status, and religion.  Their nature is love and their purpose is giving to the less fortunate of this world.  Storytime Tapestry angels are no exception.  These angels are loyal members who have contributed to the upkeep of Storytime Tapestry newsletter so that Storytime Tapestry can continue come to your email box 350 days of the year.

Here is our Storytime Tapestry Angels: Also, I would like to thank those of you who chose to be a silent angel and gave an anonymous donation to keep Storytime Tapestry up and running.

Clara Westerfer, Mark Crider, Rosanne Catalano, Paula Booher, Kay Seefeldt, Mariane Holbrook, Mary Ellen Grisham, Louise Nomani, Sharon Bryant, Angela Walker, Hart and Helen Dowd, Keith Ready, Ginger Morgenstern, Ellie Braun-Haley, Surinder Jandu, Bob Shaw, Carol Meeks, Charlotte Hilliard, Maria Keller