? 

STORYTIME TAPESTRY

The Newsletter devoted to spreading love and cultural awareness throughout the world

? 

? 

Nov 21, 2005? 

Today??™s Announcements:

? 

Happy Birthday Barbara Carey

? 

? We have a wonderful treat today, from our newest writer/poet, painter extraordinaire, Keith Morant, writer #265.?  Keith comes all the way from New Zealand and I wish I had have met him sooner.?  Please email him and let him know what you think of his wonderful poem.

? 

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

? 

? 

? 

? 

? 

Today's Queue Stories
~**~**~**~

? 

? Colorado Blue Spruce And Lush Red Roses

By Jan Verhoeff

Set in a broad expanse of lush green lawn a length of split rail fence forms a corner. Carpeted with a thick layer of soil preserving and plant protecting cedar mulch, three tall Colorado blue spruce offset the right angles of the fence. Lush red roses climb and meander along the fence setting off the soft color of the spruce and livening up the grounds. A bench of rustic-cut native stone rests casually near the edge of the cedar chip mulch with views of sunset beyond the roses, and lush rose gardens toward the back of a rough hewn log cabin in the foreground.

This ruggedly natural setting implicates something of nature, blended with a cared for garden, a wealth of beauty with little cost. Whether the setting describes the corner of a yard, a cozy corner near the house, or a mirage near the center of a vast hillside, the bench lures the gardener with promise of miraculous sunsets, interesting coffee moments, and restful contentment at the end of a long hard day.

Where you place this corner of Eden is less important that how you arrange it. There must be plenty of room for blue spruce to grow. The fence must be close enough to add ambiance to the trees and support to the roses. The bench must be close enough to absorb the atmosphere, capture the delicate aroma, and lure a guest to catch a moment of sunlight. If by chance the space beyond is laced with aspen trees, whispering in mountain breezes, your cozy sitting acquires a natural characteristic one simply cannot resist.

While corners such as this must be planned into most landscapes, given today??™s narrow postage stamp yards, the landscaping options of such a corner as this abound limitless.

Pick a tree and buy three, add the color of life in abundant flora, a fence to set off your choices, and a bench to rest your carcass after a long day of work. Don??™t forget to mulch it well, and brew the coffee.

Jan Verhoeff spends her days as a business consultant, her evenings educating her children, and her weekends playing in the yard. Gardening is a favorite pastime, but one she has few moments to enjoy, so they must be treasured. Visit her web log at http://arkvalleydiaries.blogspot.com to find more interests you might share. You may contact her at janverhoeff@yahoo.com

? 

? 

~**~**~? 

? Giving Credit Where Credit is Due

? 

Joyce C. Lock

? 

? ? ? ?  Have you ever attended a church service and thought, "Yuck!?  This church is dead," then attended elsewhere and thought, "Wow!?  God is there," as you felt personally touched by His presence?

? 

? ? ? ?  You may have noticed one bragging about how their wonderful schemes got them through difficult situations, and thought them a jerk.?  Though, you might have been reminded of God's love when someone spoke, with a quiver in their voice, of how God helped them to make it through.

? 

? ? ? ?  Maybe someone made a list of everything they've ever done for you, as if you owed them.?  But, when someone said, "You can thank me by loving others in need," it became a pleasure to both give and receive.

? 

? ? ? ?  Perhaps, you've experienced someone pointing at your imperfections in anger or rattling of 25 Bible verses so loud you didn't hear a word they said.?  Yet, when someone came off their pedestal to meet you where you were (and taught you how to overcome your weakness, fear, and insecurity), you were set free.

? 

? ? ? ?  Those who've become the difference have learned a very special secret to their success: give credit where credit is due, I Ch. 29:10-13.?  Once we get that straight, it's OK to feel warm inside when God allows us to play a small part in it.

? 

?© by Joyce C. Lockhttp://our.homewithgod.com/heavenlyinspirations/

? 

Poetry Section

~**~**~

? 

The Last Farewell

B. J. Cassady

? 

You never know when the time will come to say good-bye.
When the last farewell will need to be said, when the last
embrace will be held.
? 
You never know when the last tear will fall, when the last
laugh will fall silent....
You never know when the knock upon the door will cease.
? 
You never know when the last sunrise will appear.
You never know when the last sweet smell of rain will
freshen your senses.
? 
To all these ends, to all these ends.?  Say the things that must
be said.?  Do the things that must be done.?  Meet your maker
with your heart unfolded for Him to care.?  Because you never
know when you will say Good-bye....

BJ Cassady

Guthrie, Oklahoma

? 

B.J. Cassady

BJ.Cassady @ af-group.com

? 

B.J. Cassady is a Stephen Minister at?  Edmond Trinity Church and ISD professional

? in Guthrie, Oklahoma.?  A disabled Vietnam?  era USAF vet,?  BJ enjoys giving back to

the world with his writings and is putting?  together a CD audio collection of his best writings.? 

For further information please write: bj.enterprises @juno.com

Also look for his story 'Medals' in "More Patriot Hearts" by Lt Col William

? ? ? ?  ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? Coffey and "The Quilt".

~**~**~

? 

? FREEDOM

Keith Morant

? 

Buddha sat on the mountain top

Having a cup of tea,

When a monk climbed up to him and said;

'How can I be free?'

Buddha rolled his eyes to the skies

And out to the sea so far,

Then settling them on the monk, he asked;

'Do you know who you are?'

'Of course I do.' the monk replied,

Waving his staff in the air.

'I am a seeker of truth.' he cried;

'A lover of all that is fair.'

'And this truth,' the Buddha enquired,

'Where do you seek for it most?'

'I seek through the mountains and rivers of life,

In the living, the dead, and the ghost.'

'And is such truth easily found?'

The Buddha quietly asked.

'And is not the travelling of so much ground

A terribly tiring task?'

'Oh no,' said the monk, 'I am sustained by my faith

And the righteousness of my path;

And my burden is light when I am right,

And wickedness feels my wrath.'

So what is wrong?' the Buddha asked;

'From what do you wish to be free?'

'Oh dear!' cried the monk, as he fell to his knees;

'I wish to be free of me!'

'Aha!' said Buddha, nodding gravely,

'I think I know what you mean.'

'Oh please', cried the monk, 'Can you help me

With this terribly difficult thing?'

'Afraid not.' said Buddha, sipping his tea.

'You see, Your difficulty cancels your ease.'

'I don't understand.' frowned the monk.

'You will have to explain that please?'

? 

The Buddha smiled at a passing fly.

'Well, it goes like this;' he said,

You are you, and only you,

Who has forgetten how to be dead.

Your life has become a workshop

Where each day you build a shelf,

The shelves obscure the windows

On the view of?  'Original Self'.

The you that is you is an illusion of you,

Born of the tools that you use

To forge for the outside world

An image which you cannot lose.'

? 

The monk stared hard and scratched his head;

'I don't understand when you say

That I have forgotten how to be dead.'

'Well,' said the Buddha, pouring more tea;

'As the only corruption to a beautiful drum

Is the sound of inferior drumming;

You were more you when you were you,

In the void, and the state of becoming.'

? 

'Do you mean to imply that I am corrupt?'

Cried the monk in resentful voice.

'Is suffering not corruption?' asked Buddha;

'As you complain, I have no choice.'

For a while the monk stood deep in thought,

Then bowed before Buddha low;

'Oh Master,' he whispered, I think I see,

But how may I truly know?'

? 

The Buddha reached out and touched his head;

'My friend, you must understand

That vision is greater than knowledge,

Just as sight outreaches the land.'

'But how can I find my Original self?

How may I gain such vision?

What is the path that I must take

To be free of all illusion?'

The Buddha held up his hand;

'You must return inside the self;

Meditate on workshop walls

And dismantle every shelf.

And then break down the walls themselves,

So when you breathe your deepest breath

You breathe the void, inside and out

And are at one with life and death.'

A silence followed the Buddha's words

As though the mountains meditated.

At last the monk said 'Is that all?'

(He was obviously frustrated.)

The Buddha laughed; 'Oh no!' he cried;

'There is much more that cannot be taught;

Just as the seas and skies

May never for money be bought.

The monk stood; 'Am I then to be denied?

Is all to be negated?

How may I know the way of truth

If it is never communicated?'

'You are the way'. the Buddha said;

'The Way, the Truth and You are all integrated.

It is the you that is not you

That must be obliterated.'

? 

The monk sat again and looked Buddha in the eye;

'Tell me true,' he said, 'do you toy with me?

Or is there really some great secret

Buried within such absurdity?'

The Buddha smiled his broadest smile;'

'Now listen very carefully;

What is buried is buried deep

Within your own anxiety;

It is the rarest treasure known

And simply called simplicity.

And if such treasure you would own,

You must dig with the spade of absurdity.'

The monk jumped up, incredulous;

'Is that your only answer then?

Is that your great solution to life;

The wonderful secret of Zen?'

? 

'Of course it is not.' frowned the Buddha;

'Secrets do not live in speech.'

'Then what can you mean?' cried the monk;

No wonder you have nothing to teach!'

'Quite true!' responded the Buddha;

But then teaching is not always the way;

Learning is far more important

As the action belongs to the day.'

The monk confronted the Buddha;

'What use are such concepts to me?

They seem perilously close to madness.

Is madness, then, what you call free?'

'Perhaps.' said the Buddha, smiling,

As he stirred up a fresh pot of tea.

'Madness is not always madness;

More an extension of deep sanity.'

? 

'It seems you are unable to help me.'

Scowled the monk;' So I will leave you now.'

'Of course I can help.' said the Buddha;

'Come back and sit yourself down.'

The monk stared hard at the Master

To see how serious he might be.

'Yes, sit down'. reassured the Buddha,

And I will show you how to be free.'

Unbelieving, the monk sat again

And stared hard at the Buddha's pate;

'Do you really know the way' he asked,

'To arrive at the ultimate state?'

? 

The Buddha leaned forward to whisper;

'There is only one thing that I know

That may nourish within you the wisdom

Which will allow your 'True Self' to grow.

There is only one thing that will give you

Great vision of both far and the near;

There is only one thing that can take you

Beyond the realms of your fear.

There is only one thing to end suffering;

One thing that will give you the light

That illuminates all your compassion

And puts all illusion to flight.

There is only one thing that will lift you

Out of the grasping fire;

Only one thing that can save you

From the corruption that is your desire......'

? 

The monk could take no more, and cried;

'Oh tell me what this thing can be!

Oh Master, please, what is this thing

I need to set me free?'

The Buddha reached out a gentle hand

And took bowl and teapot on his knee;

'This is all you need my friend

To truly set you free;'

And, smiling, handed to the monk

A simple cup of tea.

? 

The monk stared as if in trance

And reached out vacantly.

He was silent,- almost frightened.

But as he touched the cup to lip;

? 

Lo!? ?  He was enlightened.

Keith Morant

morant@paradise.net.nz

? 

? 

? 

Writers Feedback

? 

Carol, this is such a powerful poem - so much said in so few words. Sometimes people can be so insensitive to the feelings of others.

I would love to use it on my cancer site, if I may and if you'd rather I wouldn't, I understand.

Love, hugs, and prayers, Marilyn

? 

Carol - What a brave lady your sister is.?  I loved your story and my heart and prayers are with you and your family at this difficult time.?  I lost a brother to lung cancer and today I remember all the good times we had while he was here.?  Sometimes I feel that he is still with me and he is still a part of me as long as I can remember him.?  God bless, Sharlett

? 

Carol - I am so sorry about your sister and will pray for her and your entire family. God has a way of giving us comfort during these horrible times. Blessings always.... Nancy Gibbs

? 

Carol,

? ?  That poem was heart breaking.?  I wish all of us could learn how to treat those we love with respect, kindness, and most of all love

while they lay dying.?  God bless you always.?  Joe

? 

? 

Prayer Requests and Updates

? 

? 

? SENIOR WRITERS

Chief Writer: Sharon Bryant

? 

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

Boda, Ginger;? ? Buhagiar, Victor; Cassady, B.J.;?  Cavalera, Robyn; Crider, Mark;? 

Deming, Barb; Doherty, Maria; Goodier, Steve; Halley, Ellie Braun;

Harris, Kathy Anne;? Hunt, Sharlette;? 

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

Liles, Norma; Lilly, Jodi Flesberg; Lock, Joyce; Mazzella, Joe;? Morris, Deepak; Ojeigbe, Georgewaters;

?  Petry, Dianna Doles; Roberts, Susan;?  Shiveley, Debra; Shaw, Bob; Sims, Richard; Streidel, Saskia; Swarner, Ken; Vaknin, Sam; Verhoeff, Jan

Walker, Bill; Walker, Joe;? Warner, Gorden K; Walsh, Sue

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: