STORYTIME TAPESTRY

April 27, 2005

Today we introduce another new writer for Storytime Tapestry.  Joyce Lock is writer # 201.  I sincerely hope you enjoy her wonderful work.

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

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

 Together in Heaven

by Sharlett Hunt 4/20/05

Will dogs go to Heaven?

I think so, and that

All pets go to Heaven

And so will my cat

My kitty's an angel

Sent down from above

She came here to teach me

The meaning of love

My little chow, Baby's

Been gone for awhile

But thoughts of her antics

Can still make me smile

I know there's a Heaven

For spirit's like these

So loving and patient

And eager to please

For God loves His children

With two feet or four

And together in Heaven

We'll be evermore

Sharlett Hunt

Sharlette863 @aol.com


About Me:

I was born in Alabama, the middle of
seven children. At about age four we moved
to Central Florida and I have lived here
most of my life. I am a Viet Nam Era
Veteran. I have always enjoyed writing
and as I get older it seems to come more
naturally to me. I believe
everyone has many stories inside them and
some are blessed to be able to share them.

Today's Queue Stories
~**~**~**~ 

                                                        Visiting Grandma

Joyce C. Lock

       If the creek was up, we had to park the car next to the gravel country road, then take our shoes off and walk the long stretch to the barn (wading through the water, as water covered the road up past the barn).  The water was knee high ... if you were the oldest kid.  So, the two youngest got carried.

       While that might have sounded like fun, one was barefoot, trying to keep clothes clean, holding one's shoes up in the air, stepping lightly, not knowing what one would be stepping on next.  Hopefully, no one would slip and fall into the water.  And, on top of that, women still wore dresses in those days.  So, mom carried the lighter little one while trying to keep her dress out of the water.  It was hard work for all.

       We also had to make sure to stay in a straight path, so as not to get sucked into the creek.  Of course, we wouldn't dare cross the little wooden bridge, on the path before the barn, until Dad assured us as to where the bridge was located.  A miss step could mean the creek, of course.

       Only, the hill to the house was much steeper; gooey red clay when soaked, with crevices throughout the mud road.

       On normal rainy day visits, we slipped and slid up the hill to the house, sideways; the car then looking like it had been through a mud bath.  But, when the creek was up, once past the barn, we were only half way there.  Then, one watched every step, uphill, to avoid the rocks and crevices (where one could twist an ankle) to miss sinking into the mud pits.

       Uncles, Dad's brothers, came to meet us near the barn, to help get little ones and luggage up the hill.

       But, by the time we all made it to the house, we were muddy and tired.  We didn't walk 5 miles through the snow.  But, when the creek was up, it sure felt like it.
?© by Joyce C. Lock
http://groups.yahoo.com/group/smilesharing/

About the Author

    Having grown up amidst Preachers, Evangelists, Missionaries, Church Planting, etc.: author Joyce C. Lock, has been actively involved in church work most of her life ... with a huge variety of church related positions and experiences; still serving the Lord, full time, in whatever capacity He calls her to next.  A homemaker, mother of two, foster parent of twelve, and a young grandmother of nine ... she is also a published author, columnist, and poet.

    In addition, she founded and maintains the e-mail ministries "Heavenly Inspirations" http://our.homewithgod.com/heavenlyinspirations/heavenlyinspirations-intro.htm,  "Share a Smile" http://our.homewithgod.com/heavenlyinspirations/shareasmile.htm, and, additionally, offers "Heavenly Inspirations - original writings" http://groups.yahoo.com/group/HeavenlyInspirations-originalwritings/; an archived resource of Inspirational articles, devotionals, prose, short stories, true stories, testimonies, quotes, bits of wisdom, and poetry (from multiple authors) free for non-profit ministry purposes.

    Joyce C. Lock's latest literary accomplishments include publication in the newly released books, "Faith Writers Speak", "Motherhood Memories", and "Rose Petals"  http://www.lulu.com/lotusbooks.  Her e-book, "The Difference", is also available here: http://www.theeaglesgarden.com.  Joyce's writings encourage us in our relationship with God and each other.

The enclosed writings may be used in its entirety,

with credits in tact, for non-profit purposes.

 ~**~**~  

WHAT WAS LEFT OF ME
Roger Dean Kiser

I didn't mean to be young....Really I didn't. When did this happen to
me? Why only yesterday I did not exist at all. Somewhere, somehow I just
seem to happen...alas, what have I done?

Those thoughts came to me yesterday as I stood outside the Children's
Home Society Orphanage in Jacksonville, Florida. This was the only place
that I have ever known as my "home". I stood there in my own silent
space waiting to do an interview for a television special about
orphanages. Slowly I turned my head and I looked through the six foot
high, steel fence toward the compound.

Just yesterday the matrons of the orphanage hustled around speaking in
harsh tones. We young boys ran down the long, dark hallways of our two
story dormitory playing "Hide and Seek" as the matron got mad and cursed
us. I wonder whatever happened to Hide and Seek"? Do my own children
play it? Has "Hide and Seek" become a long gone secret, lost somewhere
in the universe?

Off in the distance I could see the large stalks of bamboo where I once
played as a little boy. Jumping from the trees and swaying to the ground
as if on a cushion of air. The same green stalks which the matrons used
to beat me until I would bleed. Did the bamboo miss me when I went out
into the world to find what was left of me?

My eyes move slowly across the grounds and stare at the exact spot where
we orphans had once built our secret army forts. Where are these symbols
of my youth? Where are the structures which took a thousand years to
build? Where are the hundreds of little soldiers who helped me build
them? Are they now dead and broken like many of the children who passed
through these large white gates? Did the mighty forts miss me when I
went out into the world to find what was left of me?

I raised my head and I looked up at the window where I once slept. Many
lonely a night I spent crying, head resting on the sill of that window.
The same window where I watched the beautiful monarch butterflies as
they landed on the screen. Do they no longer leave their magic sprinkled
about my window sill? Did the butterflies miss me when I went out into
the world to find what was left of me?

Some where in that neatly stacked pile of white bricks hides a cold,
dark, scary, closet. A small room full of ghosts and goblins. A space
where I knew fear and hunger for many a night and day. Did the monsters
miss me when I went out into the world to find what was left of me?

The old oak tree, where they hung me by my neck, is still standing. It
no longer looks as tall as it once did. Why did I have to learn about
dying at such an early age? Did the mighty oak miss me when I went out
into the world to find what was left of me?

"Should I not smile?" I thought to myself, as I looked at the building
where my eyes first witnessed a woman's naked body. Shaking and scared
my seven year old eyes watched in wonderment as the head matron, Mother
Winters, peeled back her house-robe exposing her body. Did her naked
body miss me when I went out into the world to find what was left of me?

I have been to many far away places during my life. For years I traveled
from star to star, and now I am old and grey. Today I have returned to
the orphanage; the place that I once called home. I have come back today
to see if I can find what was left of me?

Roger Dean Kiser

trampolineone @earthlink.net

Roger Dean Kiser is the author of the
book "Orphan, A True Story of
Abandonment, Abuse and Redemption."
Roger also writes non-fiction short
stories which he displays on his
website "The Sad Orphan" located at:
www.rogerdeankiser.com
Roger's short stories have also been
published in: Chicken Soup, Heartwarmers
Heartwarmers of Love, A
Cool Collection I and II (Israel),

"The Bully" was made into
a short film by Nicholas Delfino
and has been entered into several major
film festivals in the United States.

~**~**~

Thou Shall Not Steal

Sharon Bryant

Yesterday I found a small wallet.  It contained several credit cards, Identifications, Driver's License, etc.

I contacted the owner who lives over 60 miles from me.  She is 72 years old.

I can't count the times she said "Thank You" when I told her I was putting everything in the mail to her today and not to worry, everything is still in the wallet.

She told me she was so worried about her credit cards, health card, and license.  She offered me a reward and I told her "No reward, I'm just glad that I found your wallet."

I know that there are some out there who would have a field day with these credit cards.  I know the feeling of losing something that is very important to us.  I'm just happy that an elderly lady does not have to go through the hassles of the procedures she would have had to had her wallet not been found.

A memory struck me that has stayed with me all my life.

It was 1952.  My grandmother and I were in a grocery store.  There was a big display of green grapes on the aisle we were in.  Grandma was ahead of me picking out items she needed.  I couldn't resist, I reached out and plucked one of the grapes off the display and popped it in my mouth.

Grandma turned around as I was chewing on the grape.

"What are you eating?" she asked.

"A grape", I replied.

"I didn't buy any grapes," she said.

I knew then I'd done something very wrong when I saw the stern look in her face.

"Young lady, you just stole, and we do not take anything that we didn't buy or that does not belong to us."

She reached out and grabbed me, pulled my little dress up and gave me the spanking of my life in that store.  And I've NEVER forgotten those grapes nor that licking I got.  That one grape that started out tasting so good, about choked me when I realized at a very young age, it did not belong to me.

I learned a valuable lesson that day. 

Sharon Bryant

1946 @bellsouth.net

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