Storytime Tapestry Newsletter

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

May 26, 2006

Today’s announcements

A happy birthday wish goes out to Intuitive Astrologer and writer, Jody Fleshberg Lily: lightinmotion@yahoo.com  from all her friends here at Storytime Tapestry

I WAS IN THE HOSPITAL. I ALMOST DIED. MY WHITE BLOOD CELL WAS HIGH. MY LIVER WAS NOT WORKING RIGHT. NOW MY RED BLOOD CELL IS LOW AND I MAY NEED A BLOOD TRANFUSTION. PLEASE PRAY FOR ME. Linda Ann Henry

Now onto the good stuff!

Today’s Queue Stories

~**~**~

 “Left Behind”

Mary Dees

The day ended with my face pressed against those cold black bars encompassing our front porch. My legs numb beneath me as my eyes strained to see the last of the long black car that I knew would take my brothers into our father’s world, far away from mine.  Other than my mother’s beckoning arms, the front porch cradled me once again.

Emptiness swaddled my young body with the same thought repeating itself in my mind: “Why? What did I do?” As I searched for answers, more questions seemed to flood my drifting thoughts.” Why wouldn’t he take me? Why wouldn’t he look at me? He was my father, wasn’t I his daughter?”

It was not until I reached the age of 10 that my father’s eyes turned to me, and it was not until that moment that I believed I was worthy of love. If he couldn’t love me, who could? It’s Sad - how a child’s mind manipulates itself when one parent does not acknowledge her existence.

As a woman, I recall my fleeting childhood memories as if it were just yesterday.  I recall also, how my mother would make beautiful excuses for my father’s absence in my life.  The truth, however, always found me on the front porch – left behind.

Mary Dees

marlena7694@yahoo.com

~**~**~

The Walk

Mary Dees

The call came in around 1:00 a.m., “What?” What?” my mother cried, while bolting from her bed. “What is wrong?” She begged into the phone. “Hurry, get dressed,” she turned to me with a shout.  “It’s your brother, Lloyd, we have to go!”

As I rubbed sleep from my eyes, my mother and I headed to Adams County Hospital.

            Entering the room, I witnessed my mother soak the fear out of my brother’s eyes with just one grasp of her hand.  “I’m here Lloyd, she said, I’m here.” Seconds later, the nurse interrupted and directed my mother and I out into the hall. Visiting hours are over at 8:00 p.m.  the sign read. “Are we even supposed to be here?” I remember thinking.

            As we lingered there for what seemed like a decade, the nurse bobbed her head out from his room and signaled me in. “He can see you now,” she said.  Me, the little sister? Now what would this man of such reserve want with me? I strolled into his room for the second time that night.  Although this time was different. This time I would go alone at his request.  Heading off my thoughts, Lloyd said, “Mary.”

I replied “Yeah, Lloyd, are you alright?” He said again faintly, “Mary, come here.”

            How was I to know that walking across the room that night would open a chapter in our lives that I hold sacred to this very day.  His defenseless hand rose to mine as he whispered, for the first time in his adult life, “I love you, you know that, don’t you?” “Yeah Lloyd”, I gasped, “I know.”

 Mary Dees

marlena7694@yahoo.com

~**~**~

Playground Rescue

Mary Dees

It’s warm today. “We get to have recess outside,” I thought, as my classmates scampered into a single file behind me.  We were counting the seconds until the bell rang; that beautiful sound that would scatter us like fire ants throughout the playground.

            Lisa, my cousin was trying to seize her turn on the ‘merry go round’. “Weeze,” I shouted, (she hated it when I called her that) “Wait up!” exclaimed. “Come on,” she replied.

            There was no line here. “Every kid for himself” was our motto.  She did it. She climbed aboard. I watched while she tried several times to hold her grip. “Wait,” I thought, “Is she falling?” “Doesn’t anyone care,” I remember thinking. In that same instant, my cousin was beneath the feet of the children on this rounded cart. Stomping their way faster, the children went without notice of her tangled body beneath them.  I then lunged through the horde, grabbed the bar and swung myself to the middle of their unruly machine.  The bars, so rigid on my back, finally came to a halt.  Reaching down for her, I sighed, “Weeze, are you okay?” In a small illuminating voice, she said, “I told you not to call me that!”

Mary Dees

marlena7694@yahoo.com

~**~**~

He’s Gone

Mary Dees

John lounged on the porch enjoying a cigarette after his 4-egg breakfast. I was leaning against the doghouse that Chris, my first love and I had painted just weeks before, petting John’s furry friend ‘Gunner’.  The neighbor, Chris’s cousin, came running through the honeysuckle next to Granny’s house to deliver the news.  With one hand on my shoulder, catching her breath, she said, “I’m sorry Mary, Chris is dead.  He was murdered.  I’m so sorry Mary.”  The blank nothingness took my breath away. My knees turned to water and I slid to the ground.  I did not raise my head.  I did not open my eyes.  I too would lie here and die as well.  My brother John, as Chris had done on another fateful day, yanked me to his chest and screamed aloud, “She’ll be fine, Chris, I’ve got her, She’ll be fine.”

Mary Dees

marlena7694@yahoo.com

Mary M Dees resides in Ohio with her two children. She wrote her first poem at age 13 and has been writing ever since. She currently works as a hair dresser but has had a lifetime interest in poetry. She also likes to dabble in interior design.

Poetry Section

~**~**~

Led by God

 Joyce C. Lock

Don't walk behind God.

Don't run ahead.

Just walk by His side

And you'll ever be led.

© by Joyce C. Lock

~**~**~

LITTLE BABY JESUS

Joyce C. Lock

Little Baby Jesus, He is not far away.
He was a gift from God that keeps giving every day.

You see Him in others that show their love toward you.
You see Him in trials that you could not, alone, do.

Little Baby Jesus was not a one-time gift.
He is there, every day, giving you a helping lift.

You see Him in blessings, on you He does bestow.
You see Him in weakness, when He does faithfully show.

You see Him in sad times and in the glad times, too.
Little Baby Jesus, yes, He is still there for you.

© by Joyce C. Lock

~**~**~

Loss to Suicide

 Joyce C. Lock

If God would have wanted a suicide stopped,

He would have made the way.

Many attempt suicide,

Several times, without success.

Most attempt such

As a means of escaping.

They really don't want to die.

They only want the pain to go away.

Our days are numbered by God.

Satan does not have the power

To take life or to trick one into it;

Which would be the same difference.

People die in thousands of ways,

None before it is time.

For God to have allowed one to succeed,

It would have been a true desire

of their heart to go home.

So, as much as you can,

Rejoice in that your loved one

Has found true peace

In their Father's arms.

© by Joyce C. Lock

~**~**~

Readers Feedback

Comments from May 22, 2006

Hart Dowd’s – Description of Canada - Simply wonderful!  I will have to win a writing
competition with $1,000,000 prize money ...to see
Canada!
Regards/SM THOMPSON: SOUTHAMPTON UK:

Carol,

I just wanted to thank you for posting my prayer request in your newsletter.  I surely didn't expect you to do that, nor did I expect you to also forward all the compassionate emails that have come to you on our behalf.  I realize that your time is limited and I do appreciate your doing this.  The comfort and kindness extended from your readers has lifted my spirits and encouraged our family immensely.  I know we are not alone in our struggle with grief, so please extend my thank you to all who have taken the time to not only read my letter, but have reached out to us in response.  The poems were heart wrenching, but freeing at the same time, and the simple goodness that many have expressed to us in their emails has been very healing.  Thank you ... Thank you ... Thank you! - Ginger

Senior Writers

Chief writer: Sharon Bryant

                                     Chief researcher/historian: Hartson Dowd

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