STORYTIME TAPESTRY

April 25, 2005

Now on to the good stuff..........

Animal awareness series endorsed by Shiloh and Hank our mascots; all stories must receive their approval.

?©Brutus The Greeter

Barbara Weymouth

There could be none sweeter as a welcoming greeter??¦ than Brutus... Down Isleton way on the Sacramento River Delta??¦

You always find more at Jan??™s shop than just things to buy??¦

The first experience of course was from the special greeter, Brutus.

He was a very large canine type fellow, Rot and Lab I believe. He would be greeting you at the door. His Fur as black as the night, he kept watch as any good sentry over the entrance to Jan??™s shop. As he greeted each one of us as we came to the door he would then escort us inside the shop. Always keeping close watch on Jan.

Then you??™re greeted by Jan with her warm smile and hello and some good conversation and then some sharing of Jan??™s latest creations, which are fabulous. And sometimes Stormin' Norman even comes out to greet you and shares a story or two. He??™s the human type fellow there at Jan??™s shop. An occasional town??™s person will drop by and join in the conversation that makes things complete. Jan??™s shop is a special place to visit and to shop.

Everyone in town and all frequent visitors know and love Brutus. Brutus is even a hero who saved many from burning to death in a large group of building??™s fire a while back. The fire was at night while all were sleeping, but Brutus he sprang to the rescue and woke everyone up and got them all safely out without harm. That was how special Brutus was filled with love and Caring for his Jan and Stormin??™ Norman, all the neighbors and all who visited the shop. Brutus made the town newspaper as a hero. I can safely say Brutus was a very special fellow!

Things down Isleton way just won??™t be quite the same without Brutus keeping watch and greeting us at the door. But I have a feeling that he is still keeping watch and waiting at The Rainbow Bridge to greet and welcome us once more??¦ another day!

Until we see you again dear Brutus, frolic in the meadows and run free with the others there, We??™ll be happy when we See you again waiting at the bridge to greet us and to welcome us home.

?©Barbara J. Ervin-Weymouth, April 20, 2005, ?®All Rights Reserved

About The Author, BJ Ervin-Weymouth:
 
My name is Barbara; I was born and raised and still

Reside in the Sacramento Valley of California.  I am a Christian and a divorced mother of one son, who is married to my daughter-in-law, Dawn, together they have given me two beautiful gifts from God, I call my grandchildren. 

I have one very spoiled Staffordshire Terrier, Rosie, who doesn't know she's a dog, shhh!  I have worked in public education for 26 years.  After 22 of them I decided to become an Adult Education Teacher.  It has been the realization of a life long dream. I have been substitute Teaching for the past four years.  I??™m still praying for a classroom and students of my own.  I am truly blessed beyond measure.  Email:  Weymouth@cwnet.com

Today's Queue Stories
~**~**~**~ 

WHEN SUFFERING VISITS

Steve Goodier

One of Canada's most famous physicians was Dr. William Osler.
Many stories are told of Dr. Osler, but one of the most revealing
comes from World War I.

Friends recalled the day when he was working in one of Britain's
military hospitals during the war. He was called out of the wards
during his daily rounds to be given an important message; his own
son had been killed on the fields of France.

Stunned by the news, he still came back to pick up his rounds.
For a long period afterward he was noticeably different. And
those who knew him best said that he changed as a physician that
day. The cheerful note was gone from his voice and never again
did friends hear the tune which he so often whistled as he went
from ward to ward.

Though these things never returned, something eventually came to
take their place. Everyone noticed a new compassion in his care
of the soldiers who each day streamed in from the battlefield.
Before, he had the professional concern of the physician, so
important to the practice of medicine; now there was an added
discernable note of a personal compassion, like that of a father
for his son....

Osler was understandably hurt and, like most people who have
experienced such losses, he likely became angry. In time, after
working through pain and anger, he found a way to
integrate the loss into his life. Though he was never the same,
he chose not to let his son's death turn him into a bitter and
resentful man. Instead, he channeled it into energy and love for
others, caring for them as he would care for his own.

Helen Keller wisely said, "The struggle of life is one of our
greatest blessings. It makes us patient, sensitive, and Godlike.
It teaches us that although the world is full of suffering, it is
also full of the overcoming of it."

Osler teaches us something about overcoming suffering. It can
leave us bitter, or quite surprisingly, it can often leave us
better. More patient. More sensitive. More compassionate. And a
little more like how God must surely be.

-   By Steve Goodier

Get Books By Steve Goodier Here: (877) 344-0989

http://lifesupportsystem.com/books.html

~**~**~  

Tears, Mother's Tears

Bill Walker

wildbill6807@yahoo.com

A mother sheds many tears over her children.  Many
kinds of tears. Now I was an only child, a boy by
chance.  Back in my time of coming into this world.  A
mother to be never really knew what God was going to
bless her with till the baby came.  Now  a days, I hear it
is different.  But in the 1930 years, and before, and
for a lot of years later, you took what God blessed
you with and was happy.

Now let me side track here. I am one of the people who
believe in life.  I believe each child is a blessing
from God.  It takes a man and a woman to make a child.
That is the old fashion way.  Also God has a hand in
it.  I believe it is a sin to do away with an unborn
child.  Pure and simple, a sin. Now for all of you
who are of the other thinking,  I just have one thing
to say and that is all I will say.  You are reading
this.  May I ask one question?  Would you be reading
this if your mother had dumped you before you were
born?

Now back to the tears of a mother.  I will use my case,
yours may be different.  But I bet most will be in the
same boat somewhere, somehow.

A mother sheds some tears along the path way before
you are born.  Again tears of joy and tears of some
pain.

I have heard it said, "my little yet unborn gave me a
small kick last night.  It is getting close to time."
Again a few tears of joy.

The baby is born.  Tears of pain and tears of being
happy. The doc gives the baby a little slap. Baby
cries.  [Doc should be charged with mistreating a
child]  Baby is crying, every one else is all smiles.

Now in my case.  I came into this world, born in a
house, not a hospital.  I know that still happens, not
to often anymore.  Doc came to the house about the
right time.  Dad got to boil the water.  You know the
deal.

Back then boiling the water was to give dad
something to do.  If the to be daddy says, "I got the
water boiled, now what?  Doc says, "Boil some more,
takes a lot of boiling water."  Doc didn't need daddy
in the way.  I guess times have changed some now.  I hear
daddy take pictures of the baby getting here.

I was told year later by my mother, when I was still
in the baby stage, I took sick, had some kind of
sickness, and unable to move.  A lot of babies were coming
down with this and a lot would die.  Mother told me she would
sit by the crib.  If I didn't make some kind of attempt
at moving or she thought I had possible died, she
would wake me by some means.  She was afraid her baby
was one of those who didn't make it.  Again I guess
some tears; tears of the unknown and also tears of
being happy.

When a few years later, I think I must have been
getting close to 7,  I came down with another sickness.
This time it was a lung problem.  I had a high temperature and I
wasn't responding to any treatment.  Again more
mothers??™ tears.  The doc would come by the house each
evening.  Now he had run across a new untried drug.  No
one really knew  what it could or could not do.  But he
had got his hands on this new drug.  It got a try out
on me. Guess I was a test case.  

Mother again, said this later.  It was a last ditch deal. A may or may not
work deal.  We really have nothing to lose.  Now I remember this

much.  I wanted something cold.  Remember I was running a temperature.

I wanted some ice cream.  Doc said let him have some. I got ice cream.

You know I wonder now... Was it the drug or the ice cream that
cured me?  I now know what the name of that wonder
drug was.  It still is a wonder drug. Name starts with
a P.

I know there were a few other times of mother's tears.
Some were the happy tears; some were of the other
kind. I would think maybe the happy and sad tears some
how evened out.

I think she had a few happy tears when it was found
out I was going to get a paper saying I made it out of
high school.  I bet there was a tear or two also; my
little boy is growing up.

Then came the day I left home going into the unknown;
the service of our country. I think all mothers have
tears at this time.  My boy, tears of being proud, also
tears this is my boy leaving into the unknown.

I remember getting on the plane leaving for the trip
into the war.  Mother never shed a tear.  Dad said a
couple of years later.  "She held the tears till I was
on the plane.???

He also told me something about how she was so proud when

I came home.  She loved to be seen with her son.

"Why he is a sergeant now." 

And when I came home the last time before getting out, she made
sure I wore the ribbons; A proud mother.  I think if there were tears,

those were the happy tears.

I remember getting her a gift for birthdays, Christmas
and such.  I think the eyes got a bit of happy tears.
Of course I got the normal woman reaction.  "Oh Bill
what and why do you buy this for me?  It costs too
much."

Well I guess looking back one could say; maybe
to replace the many sad tears I caused in the past,
with a few happy ones now.

Now I know I only touched on some of mother's tears.
Goodness a mother sheds many a tear over her child.
Both the sad ones and the happy tears.  That is if she
is any kind of mother at all.  I know there are tears at
the time she thinks she is about to lose her little
boy [my case] to some little dollie.  Again a few tears
of joy and some sad tears.

Now a boy, [my case] has tears also.  I had the tears
when mother crossed the river to the other side.  I
came home and cried my eyes out.  At the funeral I did
not.  I came home and cried my eyes out.  Then I thought
about it.  I remembered the happy times; the happy
tears.  I thought mother you are crying the happy tears
today in heaven.  There is no need of the sad tears
any longer.

About Me:

Well I??™m a story teller, not a writer. Never learned the art of fancy English. I

happen to live in Nebraska, but I??™m still Missouri. Never married, all the Dollies I

ever took a second look at was too smart. Now at 74, just turned that other day, I

figure they all home safe. I love Doggies and Dollies in that order. Lost my two

true friends this year, that be Tinker and Poo. So I found me a new one. This

time a little girlie Peke. She is a normal female. Got a mouth, talks all the time.

She will never be a great writer of stories like Tinker and Poo. They have

about 50 stories on HWS. And now writing back from Rainbow Bridge.

I just try to write about people, places and things best I remember. Have something

over 250 stories on HWS. under three names.   

 ~**~**~  

THE PHOTO

 Sharon Bryant

I have always been a photo nut.  I have many albums filled with photos of scenery, animals, people, etc. Three years ago I took a picture.   I never dreamed that one photo would one day become so very important not only to me, but to someone else.

Let me go back...........

Three years ago when I delivered stuffed animals to Children's hospital, I walked into a room with a 17-year-old girl sitting Indian style on her hospital bed.  She had beautiful curly long brown hair, sparkling blue/green eyes, and an infectious smile.  I remember her very well because she was the only child out of over 200 kids that I met that day, who was sitting with a mirror putting on make up.  I even commented to her, "Did I beat your boyfriend in?"  She grinned a beautiful grin and said, "Yep."

I remember she was wearing a bright tie-dyed T-shirt and shorts.

I told her I was giving away stuffed animals.  My arms were loaded with several of the animals and I informed her she could take her pick of any one she wanted.  She chose a gray puppy.  She did not notice the card attached which said, "In memory of........." nor know that the puppy was donated by a mom who had lost her child.

I noticed this young girl and have always remembered her because she didn't look sick.  I had been in many other rooms prior to going into her room, and some children were too ill to sit up or speak.  To see a patient who looked so healthy was a sight I seldom saw at Children's.  She told me her name and told me her father owned the comedy club in a nearby city.  I told her I'd just been there the month before to see my favorite comedian.

I am not allowed to question a child in Children's as to what is wrong with them or why they are in the hospital.   Yet she offered me her own information.  She told me she was having some blood work done and would be there for a day or two.  I made some remark like, "Yep, you'll be out of here in no time."  For some reason, I asked if I could take her picture.  She grinned and said, "Sure."  So I snapped a shot of her with that big infectious grin. I hugged her good bye when I left her room to go on to another room to another child.

Later when I had the film developed, I put her photo in one of my albums.  Why, I have no idea.  At least I didn't know then, but I think I do now.

Last Monday, I was watching my local news on TV when I heard the reporter say, "A young woman has died in the local area of cystic fibrosis."  I glanced up at the TV and there was the girl.  Just as beautiful as she had been the day I had met her three years earlier. I called out to my husband to come near the TV quickly and I told him she was one of the kids at Children's hospital.  I told him I had a photo of her in one of the albums.  I knew right then and there I had to get the photo to her father.  She was buried on Wednesday.

Yesterday I called the Comedy club.  The secretary told me the owner was not available right then, so I asked if she would give him a message which she said yes, she would.  I then told her that I had a picture of his daughter that I would like to give to him.  The lady began to cry and told me it's been so hard on him as his daughter was his only child.   She gave me his email address and the address of the club where I could mail the photo.  She took my phone number down.

I scanned the photo last night and wrote a letter to this father and sent it email.

I laid in bed last night thinking of this man, knowing what he is feeling.  I know he will have many sleepless nights, nights he wants to be alone, nights he will sit and cry.  The pain is the same for each of us who have lost a child.   I know the long walk he will have to take for many years to come.  I know his life is now changed forever.

This morning my phone rang and a man asked for me.  After identifying myself, his voice started to tremble, and I knew who it was.  He then said, "I am her father."

What he said next will stay on my mind the rest of my life.

He told me his life has been only existing since last Monday and he's not been able to work, can't concentrate, and has felt horrible.  He told me something gave him a feeling to turn on his computer this morning.  He told me the first thing that came up was a letter with his daughter's name on the subject line and he opened it. 

Tears filled his eyes, he said, as he read what I wrote, and then when he saw the photo attached, he said it took his breath away.   He told me he didn't know there were people that would have taken the time to do something like this.  I informed him any bereaved parent will do anything they can to help another one, that is how we find one another, by reaching out and lending a hand when someone is walking behind us.

He told me his daughter's photo touched his life in a way he couldn't explain.  He said, "You just don't know how much this means to me."  I said, "Yes, I do, that's why I wanted you to have it."

He told me I captured his daughter's personality on film that day.

He then asked about the stuffed animal program, (which I had told him about in the letter) and I explained it is our (we who are bereaved parents) way to remember our child and to help a child who is sick. 

He asked where I work, and I found out that he plays golf just two miles from my work place.  He is coming to meet me in person.  

 "God Bless you for what you have done, I will never forget this,"  he said.   I replied, "One day you will reach out and help another who is walking behind you, as I do."

I am looking forward to meeting this father.  I already know a piece of his heart so I think he will be easy to spot when he walks through my door at work. I keep having this feeling that on that day three years ago when I stood in that hospital room with his daughter, God guided me along to take her photo.   I believe it was meant to be, to be passed along to help her father.

Sharon Bryant

1946 @bellsouth.com

About Me:

 I am Sharon Bryant, 59 years old and reside in Alabama.

I lost my child in 1977 when he was five and I write
articles on bereavement often.

I am a chocolate/candy maker and also a wood crafter and knitter.

I am married to a wonderful man, and have two remaining children, a daughter 25,
Amy, and a second son, Randy, age 22.

My main goal in life is to help those who
have lost a child. My website is: www.angelsremembered.tk

Prayer Requests

To all;

Please pray for me and Jackie both, we both have been struck down hard with bad

chest colds, I have been up all night coughing / throwing up and Jackie is the same

Thank you all for your prayers for us!

Thanks again and God bless you all

Richard & Jackie Sims

SENIOR WRITERS

Agee, Vance;  Apted, Violet;  Baker, Kathy;  Batt, Al;  Berry, Nell;

Boda, Ginger;  Bryant, Sharon;  Buhagiar, Victor; Cassady, B.J.;  Crider, Mark; 

Deming, Barb; Goodier, Steve;  Harris, Kathy Anne; Hunt, Sharlette; 

Jacobson, Gary;  Kiser, Roger Dean; Kerens, Claudia; Jenkins, Pamela;

Liles, Norma;  Mazzella, Joe; Ojeigbe, Georgewaters;

  Petry, Dianna Doles; Roberts, Susan;  Shaw, Bob; Sims, Richard; Swarner, Ken; Vaknin, Sam;

Walker, Bill;  Walker, Joe; Warner, Gorden K;

Whirity, Kathy;  White, Robert;

STORYTIME TAPESTRY STAFF

Publisher: Carol Roach-founder

Moderator: Thelma Hartselle-co founder

Moderator: Clara Westerfer

Send all inquires about the newsletter including submission requirements: