Storytime Tapestry Newsletter

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

April 16, 2006

Easter Issue

Today’s announcements

Happy Easter one and all!  We will run the Easter submissions for at least today and Easter Monday.  It is also the Passover Season, Pesach for our Jewish Storytime Tapestry Family as well, let us celebrate both solemn and yet wonderful occasions together.

Now onto the good stuff!

THE MEANING and MESSAGE
OF EASTER

Hartson Dowd

In the Christian calendar, there are three important occasions in the year that we commemorate, namely, the Birth of Christ, the Death of Christ and the Resurrection of Christ (and not forgetting Reformation Sunday). Each one of them has its special spiritual significance for the believer and the church. We will just concentrate on Easter for this season.

 The thought of the after-life has also fascinated some and haunted others. The truth is that we will and we can live forever, but the question is really where do we spend eternity.

The New Age Movement and some eastern mystical religions teach reincarnation in the after-life. It is a vicious cycle of life and death in different life forms and there is no way out except for a select few who attained unto nirvana by meditation, good works and yoga. Many are imprisoned and tormented by this teaching of karma and are living in fear and misery, despondent of life and death. It is a bondage of the souls of man which is an unbiblical belief.

Life which is without Christ is a hopeless end, while life with Christ is an endless hope. There is a soul in us that will not die at death but will face its Creator. The empty tomb is solid evidence that there is victorious and eternal life after death, and this is possible because of the attested resurrection of Christ. Jesus was seen by more than 500, as in 1 Corinthians 15:6, “After that, he was seen of above five hundred brethren at once; of whom the greater part remain unto this present, but some are fallen asleep.” So Paul confidently said in 1 Corinthians 15:55–57, “O death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory? The sting of death is sin; and the strength of sin is the law. But thanks be to God, which giveth us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.”

So there is an expectant hope beyond the grave and the Christians need not fear nor fret. Jesus said in John 11:25–26, “I am the resurrection, and the life: he that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live: And whosoever liveth and believeth in me shall never die. Believest thou this?”

Easter is a glorious event as it commemorates the morning the Lord was victorious over the vanguished foe, death, and hence those who are redeemed and justified by His blood can have everlasting life in Christ. For those who have not experience the assurance of hope and confidence of life, Jesus said, “Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me; for I am meek and lowly in heart: and ye shall find rest unto your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light” (Matt 11:28–30).

Submitted by: 

Hartson Dowd

~**~**~

He Is Alive! –I Believe!

Helen Dowd  

It is the day after Jesus’ burial.  Jesus’ followers are weeping and fasting, for their Lord is dead and buried. They know He was not an imposture, as the chief priests think. They know He is the Son of God, and expect to meet Him in Heaven. They know He will come again in glory some day. Their minds are so grieved, and their hearts so heavy that they have forgotten all about His promise to rise again from the dead, on the third day. That teaching of their Leader is completely lost to their understanding. Seeking comfort from each other, they are gathered in the same upper room that they had partaken of the Last Supper with Christ, on that night, just a weekend past. Among themselves they talk over the last horrid events that have taken place, confessing their fear, and consequently their unfaithfulness. Some weep for their failure, and for the loss of one of their group to suicide. They grieve for their Leader.  How can they carry on life without Him?

And the Roman guards keep their lonely vigil over the tomb. They are trying to keep their minds off their boredom by watching the birds flutter happily overhead; trying to name the many flowers they see in the garden; listening to the rippling of the fountain nearby. The day drags on. They are becoming tired. At last it is evening. They built a fire to ward off the coolness of the night. They sit around the fire telling jokes to stay awake, and discussing the utterly foolishness of the assignment they are on. Who would ever want to steal a body? As they stare into the fire, their eyes became heavy. Sleep overcomes them, and they doze off.

Just as the dawn is breaking, but it is still dark, suddenly the soldiers are awakened by an earthquake that shakes the spot where they are. They jump up, trembling with fright. What’s happening? What’s happening? They rub their eyes, ashamed that they had been asleep, a crime punishable by death while they are on assignment. To their amazement they see that the large stone has been rolled back from the entrance of the tomb. They rub their eyes again, thinking they must still be dreaming. And then they see him. On the rock sits an angel in a dazzling white garb. They put their hands over their eyes and fall backwards from the light. Quickly recovering themselves, they rush into the tomb. It’s empty! They tumble over each other as they scurry to the Jewish leaders to tell their astounding story.

The leaders, appalled and disturbed, call an emergency meeting. This story must not spread! They summon the soldiers into their quarters and offer them large sums of money, telling them to say that they were overcome with sleep, and while they slept, the disciples came along and stole the body.

“But if the Governor finds out we were sleeping on the job,” the soldiers protest, “we will be killed.”

“Don’t worry about that", the priests promise, “we’ll handle the governor, but you must not spread around that you have been bribed, or you’ll be sorry.” They shake their fists at the frightened soldiers. 

Now back to the Believers: Mary Magdalene, and Mary the mother of James the less, and Salome, the mother of James and John, and other women, those last at Jesus’ tomb on the day of the crucifixion, had not slept for the past two nights. They had purchased spices and ointments to embalm their Lord and Friend. And were restlessly waiting until the Sabbath was over so that they could perform their loving care on their Master, the last thing they will ever be able to do for Him.

Now it is early morning on the first day of the week. The women quietly slip out of their houses and head off for the tomb, meeting up with each other on the way, as they had prearranged to do. There is a chill in the air, and since it is still not quite light, they are feeling their way along, towards the tomb. They are nearly there when one of them gasps, a thought suddenly bursting into her mind: “What about the stone? Who will roll it away? It will be too heavy for us.” The women know that a stone had been placed there; but what they don’t know is that there are also Roman guards watching the grave, and that the Seal of the Governor, which no one dare break, under threat of death, has been placed on the stone.

Now they are entering the garden. They are able to see a little better now, as the dawn is slowly breaking. They gasp again! The stone that they had been worried about is not in front of the tomb. Someone had rolled it away. Quickly they enter the vestibule of the tomb. And turning their heads at the sound of a voice, they see an angel sitting on the rock. “Fear not,” he said, “for I know that you seek Jesus who was crucified. He is not here, for He is risen, as He said. Come, see the place where the Lord lay. And go quickly and tell His disciples and Peter that He is risen from the dead; and behold, He goeth before you into Galilee; there shall ye see Him; lo, I have told you.”

The women, all but Mary Magdalene, who remains bowing at Jesus’ feet,   start off on a run to find the disciples to tell them the good news.

“Jesus is alive! Our Master lives!” they cry, out of breath. “We saw an angel and he told us. He even showed us the empty tomb. Jesus had risen!”

“Hmph! A likely story!” The disciples look scornfully on the women. They know what gossips and storytellers women are. “It was dark,” said one of them. “How could you see? How do you know it was an angel? It could have been the gardener playing a joke on you.”

“Jesus is alive!” I tell you. “Go see for yourselves, if you don’t believe us.”

So Peter and John set out, slowly at first, but with hope rising in their hearts, they hasten their steps. They start to run. John, being younger, outruns Peter. Out of breath he arrives at the tomb. Peter soon joins him, but goes on in, ahead of John. Together they look at the place where Jesus lay. The linen cloths lay still upon the cold stone, with the napkin which covered His head, lying separately. They pick it up and feel it, then start off on a run, away from the garden. They must spread the word to the others. But as they go back, again their hearts are filled with doubt. They slow their pace. “It just can’t be! It just can’t be!” 

Meanwhile, Jesus bids Mary to go and tell His disciples the good news.  She rises to her feet, wipes the tears from her eyes, and runs back to the house where the disciples are. She bursts into the room where they sit. Her face all smiles, she looks upon their faces. In contrast, they are glum and sad. She blurts out her wonderful news, “He is alive! Our Lord is alive! He has risen from the dead! I have seen Him and He bade me tell you.”

The disciples look up, rub their hands over their bearded faces and settle down again. “Women! What do they know?” Some of them bow their heads into their hands and let out a little moan. But suddenly, while Mary is still speaking, Peter and John return from their slow, thoughtful trip back from the tomb. They get in on the last of Mary’s announcement. Upon hearing what she had to say, John and Peter, their spirits soaring once again, tell the disciples of their experience at the sepulcher. The other disciples perk up a little. Perhaps they had doubts about a woman’s tale, but now they are hearing the experience and hopes from two of the most predominant followers of Christ. Maybe--just maybe--there was some credence to the story. Their hopes were beginning to rise.

 This news is too wonderful to believe. The disciples stand up, their mouths open, gaping at Mary, Peter, John, and the other women, who all bear the same tale. It is just too good to be true! But glumly, one by one, they sit back down. They are still not ready to believe. The truth has not yet sunk in.

But Mary is overjoyed. Her Lord is living. Her mind is whirling. She saw Jesus questioned, beaten, ridiculed, and nailed to the cross. She witnessed Him dying. She saw Him being carried by Nicodemus and Joseph from the cross. She watched them tenderly wash His body and wrap Him in fine linen and place Him lovingly into the tomb. She saw the stone being rolled in front of the tomb. Then she left for a while. She had to. It was the Sabbath. Now this morning she had witnessed so many amazing things that she could scarcely take it all in. But then her heart surges again. She has seen Him! He is alive! And fresh tears fill her eyes, tears of joy, and tears of relief, tears of love, tears of thankfulness. The truth hits her. Her Lord did this all for her. Mary believes!

John and Peter leave the other, still doubtful, disciples. They go back to their dwelling, mulling over the events of the morning. The truth hits John first. He has believed all along. It is just hard for him to take it all in. He thinks of all the things Jesus had been trying to teach him and the other disciples about His real purpose on earth. He recalls how Christ kept telling them that He would die and rise again the third day. This is the third day. And then the truth hits him. “He did this all because He loved me, and because I am a sinner. He died for me. I believe!”

Peter walks beside John in silence. He too is thinking of what Jesus told them for three and a half years. He remembers all the times he blurted out his protest whenever Christ would talk about dying. He remembers that Christ had rebuked him and called him “Satan” because he protested. He vaguely recalls the fact that Jesus did say that the Temple would be destroyed, and raised again the third day. But Peter recalls that he did not quite understand what Christ’s meaning was. And then, with tears forming at the back of his eyes, Peter recalls how he failed Christ in the Garden, when He so needed human companionship; and how later, he denied Him–his best Friend–in the hours He most needed a friend. Peter recalls, with hope, the look that Christ gave him as He left the hall that night. He recalls the bitter tears he shed, tears of repentance. He recalls the feeling of relief that he felt in the Garden of Gethsemane, where he had fled to spill out his heart to God that horrible early, early morning, just a few days past. And now, although he has not yet seen Jesus, he has heard the witness of the angels, and of the women, and of Mary. And the truth dawn on Peter. Christ HAS arisen, and He has forgiven him. Peter believes.

© Helen Dowd

Email address: hmdowd@telus.netWebsite: www.occupytillicome.comHelen Dowd enjoys spending time at her computer, along side her husband of 48 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 recently 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.

 ~**~**~

A  Real Reel Fish Story

By Paula Booher

The year was 1991.  Things had been really really tight around the Honeycutt household with two kids and only one income.  I wasn't asking for much that Easter.  I remember I just wanted it to be nice for Jami and Jake.  It seemed no matter what I tried the money just Would not present itself for any extra treats and groceries were so scarce that an Easter meal was just going to be out of the question.  We were between paydays and Sunday was fast approaching.  In fact it was the next day.  David, my husband at the time, woke up that Saturday morning and had some idea that he didn't want to share with any of us.  I was insistent he tell us but he wouldn't budge.  He started loading up the little station wagon we had with the fishing gear and said it was a surprise and that he wanted us to just get ready.  It wasn't hard to figure out that he was taking us somewhere to go fishing.  David loved to go fishing and the kids as well.  I had been raised at the Lake of the Ozarks so fishing was sort of second nature to me but I was Not really in the mood to fish that particular day.  I had planned to clean the house and maybe scrounge up something to bake.  The kids insisted I go so I got ready and joined in their mood for the trip.  I had no idea where he was taking us and he wouldn't tell us.  All he would say is that we would like it and that the place had the biggest fish we had ever seen!  Jami and Jake got really jazzed about it.  I was not so sure.  David tended to exaggerate and I had seen his "Biggest fish stories before...

It was a beautiful Saturday morning with the sun shining, a gentle breeze, and the birds singing.; generally a perfect spring day on the horizon.  The drive out to the country was so nice and as the wind blew through my hair I remember whispering a prayer for a miracle of some sort that this Easter would be a good one for the kids.  I didn't have a clue what God was about to do or just how wonderfully fun the day was going to turn out for all of us.  I had been so blue for so long.; very lonely.  Except for giggling with the kids occasionally it seemed I had forgotten how to laugh at all.  I didn't talk to my neighbors because David would get so upset with me if I did and the only other person I ever seemed to talk to was his mother who was driving me crazy.  We were invited to go have Easter at her house with her where there was more than enough to eat, and a spread of goodies but it always ended up the same; an argument or so much tension that everyone felt sick with it.  That's why we had decided to just stay away this year. 

We turned into the field next to a barn lot and made our way to the pond next to some cows.  They didn't seem to mind that we were there.  We unloaded the car including some lunch and fixed up our rods, baiting them with stink bait and worms.  There was supposed to be some cat fish in this muddy pond and David said that Dr. Sunderworth had been feeding his fish corn since he stocked it the season before.  "Doc said they should be really big by now", David insisted.  We caught several  good size keepers and the kids got a kick out of catching the fish, watching their Dad rebait their hooks, and getting yelled at by me to try and stay clean the in mud.  How ridiculous is that?  

I had my line in the water and wasn't really paying attention when all of sudden I felt a familiar tug.  I jerked and set the line.  I began reeling in what I knew to be a big one. I also knew that my test line may not be strong enough to deal with what might be on the other end of it.  I yelled for David to come and help me.  He was helping one of the kids rebait their hook and told me to hang on a second.  I was struggling to get the fish to the shore line because it was fighting me all the way in and I did Not want to break the line or my rod which by this time was bending down with each pull.  My voice was becoming sharp and tense as I screamed for David to hurry and help me.

He hurried with what he was doing and came to help. He came to me and started to reel in the fish.  He too found that it was a big one.  I know I asked his opinion of How big did he think it was and he must have said something of an estimate.  At that point things got really blurred. He immediately jumped into the mud and grabbed the line to help take tension off the rod because it was about to snap. The fish was rolling up in the line as it got closer to shore in the mud.  Things were getting messier by the second.  Jami and Jake were screaming with excitement for us to get the fish and how big is it and so forth.  It was a moment of pure joy for all of us.  The fish gave us a good fight but we finally won and he came home with us.  Jami and Jake wanted to name him and keep him for a pet.  We explained to them that we were going to eat him and how good he was going to taste for dinner the next day.  All conversations to that affect I'm sure because it's hard to explain to two little kids that you don't have anything else to feed them except this dirty old fish from a stinky pond on "Easter".  All they know is that Mom and Dad always make Easter fun and colorful and Mom tells them what Easter is all about that Jesus died on a cross and He rose again after three days at the Resurrection.  In a way this year was no different.  Oscar, that's what they named the fish, he died.  His sacrifice helped them to rise again!

Btw, Oscar was one tasty fish...

Reminded me that we are to be fishers of men...just as Jesus said.  It also reminded me that when you have no money and no food that God Always provides a way.  He gave us Oscar and we had a wonderful Easter meal that beautiful Easter Sunday.  Oscar was so big, at least 22-lbs., that we enjoyed him for at least three meals.

bio:

A Missouri gal born and raised near the Lake of the Ozarks in central Missouri I now reside in Springfield where I have been since I was 19.  At 48 I have a total of 6 children.  One is in heaven, three are here with me, and I have two stepsons, (one of which has graced us with a beautiful granddaughter).  I enjoy writing, sewing, painting, sketching, gardening, and just about anything God sets my hands to doing.

At age 40 I was granted the rare privilege of early retirement due to emergency brain surgery 9 days after our youngest daughter was born.  The rheumatoid arthritis set in and now I'm blessed with more time to serve a fulltime home ministry for God I named "Gods Ladies In Disguise Ministries".

You can reach me at my email address wrappednword@yahoo.com and read me at Storytime Tapestry.  My poetry can be found at poetry.com under Paula Booher & Paula Roe, my maiden name.  Thanks for stopping by. I've appreciated your visit.

Easter Poetry Section

~**~**~

The Easter Bunny

Dianna Doles Petry

Have you ever thought about the Easter Bunny?

I think he must be very tired that night.

He has a zillion eggs to color,

Easter baskets to get just right.

What happens as he grows older?

He spends years just hopping around.

Chocolate and goodies he carries,

Along with marshmallow chicks to be found.

Is there a bunny retirement home,

When they can't keep up the Easter race?

Excitement is so contagious on Easter day,

Jelly beans leave a smile on a child's face.

Does the Easter bunny attend parades,

Wearing a new suit or bright Easter bonnet?

Does he attend church and then go home,

To sit at a table with a grand feast upon it?

I think he takes the time to relax a while,

I'm sure he takes the time to pray.

He has spread smiles around the world,

Honoring the reason we celebrate the day.

©Dianna Doles Petry

4/2006

~**~**~

Easters Joy

Dianna Doles Petry

The colored eggs have all been hidden,

Baskets are full of chocolate and waiting,

The children barely slept through the night,

Tossing and turning, anticipating.

Jelly beans and marshmallow peeps wait,

With a few small toys and grass thrown in,

Oh, what I wouldn't give,

To be a young child once again.

Pleasure from a simple egg hunt,

Smiling at my new spring shoes,

Searching for the golden egg,

Following riddled clues.

It was so simple in my childhood,

Twirling in my new spring dress,

I hope my children all feel that way,

As they move on to find success.

Too soon they'll grow up,

Become parents and bunnies someday,

This Easter morning I'm going to make sure,

To give thanks for them as I pray.

Dianna Doles Petry

©4/2006

http://diannapetry.tripod.com
http://members.tripod.com/~poemsbydianna/PoetryofLife.html
www.womenwithauniquesoul.com

dianna59@charter.net

I am a lifelong resident of the state of West Virginia. I am the author of Memories...Stories of real life in the mountains.

I am a member of the West Virginia Writes and the West Virginia Poetry Society.

I very much enjoy sharing my short stories and poetry with others. My work tends to tell you the way it was, or is, or should be. I can sometimes be brutally honest and embarrassingly funny but it is the only way that I know how to share this journey through life with my readers.

I appreciate any and all feedback on my work.

~**~**~

What Can Not Die You Can Not Kill

Paula Booher

He came from heavens' Glory to be born in the worlds' modesty

Lain in a manger under That star,

God led the wise men and three kings

With gifts for Him across the desert far.

Long ago our Father and Creator and God

Made a covenant by His mercy, love, and Grace,

He was given as a gift for us that night

How could we have scarred that face.

Unfairly He suffered when He only loved

We left His heart broken, crushed, and drained,

Yet forgiveness is ever extended

Everlasting and never restrained.

Reached out nail pierced hands open

Hear your prayers crying out for comfort,

Search...you Will not find another anywhere

To replace Him or remove His effort.

Travelling through this life uncertain

I loved You Jesus all the way up that hill,

No ridge is high enough from Him

What can die, you can not kill.

copyright C Paula Deann Roe Honeycutt Booher

3/30/2006

bio:

I've been a Missouri gal for 48 years now.  Between my husband Roger and myself we have 5 children and he has a granddaughter...4 are on their own and our 8 year is in 2nd grade doing a wonderful job of showing us we probly need to go Back to get our Masters degrees...lol  She's smart, beautiful And talented.  She keeps us on our toes with her wit.  When describing her situation she tells her friends that she is one of six children.  She says her Mom has 3 children and her Dad has 3 children yet there are only 5 children total.  She figured this out when she was only 5 years old.  It had alot of people stumped.  Now you know Why we may Have to go Back to school.  She's a pistol!

God's blessed me with a like talent and wit and I just know my sweet mother is in heaven urging the child on.  They say, "What goes around comes around".  I gave my mother quite a time when I was my daughters age as well.

I love to write and That's how I ended up at Storytime Tapestry...by the Grace of God.  I can be found at poetry.com  under Paula Roe and Paula Booher.  I'll be at lulu.com as soon as I get my chicks in a row and "Just Do It!"

~**~**~

The Resurrection

Debra Shiveley

The sun has not yet risen,

The night is very still.

A woman kneels silently praying

Beside a hewn out hill.

Soldiers stand in nervous attendance

Around the silent grave,

Guarding the body of the man

Who sleeps within the cave.

The soldiers are all frightened,

As the night slowly drifts away,

And the rose of dawn now heralds

The coming of the third day.

The memory of the words:

“Be it done according to Thy will”

Echoes along the hillsides

As the scriptures are fulfilled.

All is quite.

The heavens part in fury,

And thunder fills the sky.

The soldiers fall upon the ground

Covering their frightened eyes.

Only the woman sees the angel

With flaming hair and sword,

Streak the sky and part the stone

That seals the tomb of the Lord.

He comes forth in shining glory;

His face as bright as day;

Conquering death and sin;

His gown is of heaven’s rays.

The woman utters a startled cry

And falls upon her knees.

Her face is full of radiance

As she gazes with ecstasy,

Upon the conqueror of Death,

This Jesus, King and Lord,

The Son of man and of God.

The Savior of the world.

All is quiet.

Debra Shiveley Welch

merribuck@aol.com

~**~**~

My Lamb

Joyce C. Lock 

Once, frightened and confused,
My God I did fear;
Thinking He couldn't love,
Or so it appeared.

With all my ugly sin,
Ne'er could I surmise
His Son would be transformed,
Right before my eyes.

He came, my Lamb, to know
His love takes my place.
Restoring such losses,
He gives back with grace.

Trading His life for mine
And loved as I am,
I humbly bow, in awe,
To become His lamb.

© by Joyce C Lock

~**~**~

The Cross
Joyce C. Lock

None awoke at Gethsemane.

They

None who'd carry the cross.

Only Loved

None to be a help meet.

Jesus

None who'd stand at all cost.

For What

None to be an intercessor.

He Could

None who cared for his soul.

Do For

None by his side at all.

Them.

© by Joyce C. Lock

But God commendeth his love toward us, in that,
while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us.
Romans 5:8

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; Gilbert, Robert, Jr.; Goodier, Steve; Braun-Haley, Ellie; Harris, Kathy Anne; Hunt, Sharlett; Hymes, Christina; Jacobson, Gary; Kiser, Roger Dean; Kerens, Claudia; Kevin, Tim; Jenkins, Pamela; Liles, Norma; Lily Jodi Flesberg; Lock, Joyce; Marlor, Janice Bumbalough; Mazzella, Joe; Morris, Deepak; Ojeibge, 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, Gordon, K; Walsh, Sue; Weymouth, Barbara J.; Whirity, Kathy;

Wainland, David; Westerfer, Clara; White Robert;

Storytime Tapestry Staff

Carol Roach - Founder/publisher

Thelma Hartselle - Co-Founder, Moderator

Clara Westerfer – moderator

Bob Johnston - moderator