Storytime Tapestry Newsletter

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

August 31, 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

Dean Perchick

http://symzonia.blogspot.com

Today’s Announcements

Today we have a first, a birthday and an anniversary on the same day.  Yes it is Ernie Stevenson’s birthday and anniversary.  You can send him a birthday card at: pugsmom37@aol.com, and while you are at it you can send Ernie and his wife our writer, Lynne Stevenson, an anniversary card at the same address: pugsmom37@aol.com

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

~**~**~

ValueSpeak

A Weekly Column

By Joseph Walker

valuespeak@msn.com

A TIME TO SIT ON THE BENCH

A few of my nephews are forming a recreational league softball team.  They insist that they want Uncle Joe – that would be me – to play.  I think this shows either a stunning lack of judgment on their part, or a sense of humor so frighteningly warped as to warrant psychiatric observation.  Perhaps commitment.

I am pleased that they are forming the team, and I told them – honestly – that I will be excited to watch them play.  But my intention was to watch them from the stands – not the pitcher’s mound.

Even at my best I was a painfully mediocre softball player.  And I am definitely not at my best these days.  My best was sometime during the summer of 1975, when I hit a towering blast that forced an outfielder all the way to the fence in deep left center before he made a spectacular catch.  The greatest, most exciting moment in my entire softball career, and it was an out.

That was 32 years ago.  It’s been downhill ever since.

Steeply.

My wife, Anita, understands the predicament in which I find myself.  She knows how much I love my nephews and how I want to support them.  But she isn’t interested in becoming a widow at this point in her life.

“You can’t play,” she said lovingly last week in the midst of our 30^th wedding anniversary celebration.  “I just barely got you trained.”

Christopher, the nephew who is pulling the team together, has compassion for his Aunt Anita – and probably for his teammates, as well.

“We’ll only play you if we really, really, really need you,” he promised.  Then he added: “But there’s a pretty good chance that we’re going to need you.”

At first I thought he was saying they’d play me if they needed a timely hit or a well-pitched inning.  But then I remembered: this is me we’re talking about, not Roger Clemens.  They will play me only if they can’t field an entire team without me.  I would be a warm body to avoid forfeiting the game – nothing more – and they’d put me where they felt I would do the least amount of damage.  I even heard him whisper to Anita – HEY, I’M NOT DEAF . . . YET! – that they had arranged to have someone run for me if by some miracle I should actually get a hit.

And I’m OK with that.  Really, I am.  So, I’m sure, are my hamstrings, my quads, my ligaments and the bean counters at Ubetcha Life & Casualty.  I’ve reached the point in my life at which there are no more illusions of grandeur – physical or otherwise.  Let Barry Bonds have the headlines and the home run record.  As an old guy named Paul once told his young friend

 Timothy: “I have learned that whatsoever state I am in, therewith to be content.”

And I am.  Content, that is.  Oh sure, there are things in my life I’d change if I could.  The hair growing along the edges of my ears, for one thing.  And the way my brain shuts down at 10 o’clock – both a.m. AND p.m.  And I wouldn’t mind if Ed McMahon had come through with that check from Publisher’s Clearinghouse back when I used to fantasize about that.

But for the most part I’m happy to be where I am.  “To every thing there is a season,” said The Preacher, “and a time to every purpose under the heaven:

“A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted . . .

“A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance.”

A time to play, and a time to sit on the bench.

Or better yet, in the stands.

~**~**~

Angel On My Steering Wheel

By Helen Dowd

I believe that God sends His angels to protect us in times of great distress or need. The Bible talks about it time and time again.

I have felt the presence of God's angels more than once. But the one particular time that stands out in my memory is the time that God sent an angel to sit on the steering wheel of the car I was driving, to guide me. I have no sense of direction. I can go in one door of a store and go out another, and I am completely lost

But the time I had in mind when I wrote this was unusually stressful. I had to do an impossible thing, drive through Toronto, Ontario, Canada, to a town about one hundred miles down the freeway. I live in a quiet town in Western Canada, and had never driven in heavy traffic. I had my teenage niece with me. I was supposed to be following the car my husband was driving, but I lost him about one block from our starting point. So I was on my own. Or was I? I don't think so. I had no idea where I was going. I had no idea where to turn off the freeway. It was night, and the lights were blinding. I was terrified. I just knew I was never to see my husband again, or deliver my niece to my brother, safe and sound.

Of course I prayed. Really hard! And then I turned off the freeway, down a quieter road. I turned into a restaurant parking lot. There were my husband and my brother waiting for me. I had gotten to my destination, the very place we had prearranged to meet. I don't know HOW I got there. Or, YES, I DO. An angel sat on the steering wheel, guiding me.

ANGELS
Daniel 6; Acts 12; Ps. 34:7

Do you believe in angels?
I really hope you do.
If you are in God’s family
They’re looking after you.

If ever you’re in danger,
And your heart is filled with fear,
Just think about God’s angels.
They are always hovering near.

Remember prophet Daniel,
Down in the lions’ den?
God’s angels did surround him.
He wasn’t fearful then.

When Peter was in prison,
God sent His angel down.
The iron gates were opened.
Peter walked right through the town.

Do you believe in angels?
Well, I most surely do.
I know they will protect me.
Believe me. It is true.

One time when I was driving,
So lost, and on my own,
I felt so very frightened,
Confused, and far from home.

The lights were coming at me.
The road I didn’t know.
I had no way of knowing
What way I ought to go.

God sent an angel to me
To guide me on that night.
He sat right there beside me.
He knew about my fright.

He steered me through the traffic--
I know He did, back then.
And since, I’ve felt God’s angel
Time and time again.

Don’t you believe in angels?
Read Psalm thirty-four, verse seven.
There’s an angel camped around you.
God’s protection will be given.

© Helen Dowd.

www.occupytillicome.com

hmdowd@telus.net

Bio

Helen Dowd enjoys spending time at her computer, along side her husband of 50 years, writing poetry, story poems, stories about pets and life in general, as well as inspirational and Bible stories. Her writings can be found on her website: www.occupytillicome.com. She has   had a book published  – If You Only Knew!—a story of courage and faith, taking place during the Great Depression and beyond.  It can be viewed by pressing on the banner on the front page of her website.

~**~**~

Poetry Corner

~**~**~

Woodland Joy

By Jen Donier, CR June 21, 1987

I walked with a friend to the forests deep;
We shared in the joy of secrets to keep.
Of butterfly over honeysuckle vine
A secret fawn in a forested shrine

We ran hand in hand to a clear running stream;
Dangled our bare feet in pools dark and green
We gathered in arms, wild flowers of the field and wood
Lithe and nimble like two forest druid's

The evergreen trees we climbed on high
Stretching our fingers up to the sky.
Swaying and bowing with the soft summer breeze
Tickled by pine boughs making us sneeze

We mocked the red squirrel and teased the jays;
Laughing and carefree those long summer days.

Basking in sunlight, we tanned to light browns
Our faces stained with berry juice, we looked like clowns
We rolled in grasses of meadows sweet
Explored minute forests 'neath our very feet.

We chased rainbows and butterflies
Built castles in the air
Invented knights in shining armor
and princesses fair.

The forest was our playground
Where we laughed every day
Laughing and giggling we felt very fay.

Childhood and youth came skimming back to us
Wrapped in innocent splendor of our woodland trust.

Bees droned among the flowers
Wild roses opened in bloom
We danced two wood sprites
naked 'neath a big yellow moon.

We explored woodland trails
found in forests cool and deep
The bedding place of deer
Startling them from sleep

Summer began fading
Hoary frosts flecked the grass
Our carefree days were over
We couldn't make them last.

Autumn stole upon us
Painting leaves of red and rust
The winds of winter approaching
Began to blow and gust.

Pumpkins yellowed on the vines
Scented hay filled the bins.
Harvest moons shone high above
Crickets and katy's ceased evening hymns

We made our way homeward
Hand in hand my I and my friend
To toast our toes on winter's hearth
and to reminisce of where we'd been

Of lonely loons on summer lakes
trailing arbutus vine
Of days that sparkled like showers of gold
And tasted of strawberry wine.

So long my friend until tomorrow
A better day dawns with no sorrow
I'm in a better place, happy and free
One day soon you'll come again to share it with me.

 Jennifer Donier

cedarsong@icehouse.net

~**~**~

 ~**~**~

~**~**~

Readers Feedback

Our 50^th Anniversary – Hart and Hellen Dowd - That was so beautiful and so full of love my friend.  I pray for many more years of love for you both.  Wishing you every joy, Joe

Carol,
   Thanks so much for running my story today.  Being a part of the loving storytime family is
both simple and easy for me.  God bless all of its wonderful members.  Wishing all of you
every joy, Joe

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