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Storytime Tapestry Newsletter The newsletter devoted to
spreading love and cultural awareness around the world. Publishers Favourite Sites: Rosanne Catalano http://www.rosannecatalano.net/ Michael Smith http://subs.zinester.com/86758/ Barbara Weymouth penwormprayerwarriors-subscribe@yahoogroups.com Helen Dowd Dean Perchick Today’s Announcements Donations are always needed to help with
the operating expenses of running the newsletter and to keep Storytime Tapestry
the quality newsletter you are so accustomed to. Please note that Storytime Tapestry is a
free newsletter to members and there will never be a cost for the newsletter.
Donations are purely voluntary and no member should ever feel guilty for not
making a donation at this time. Today’s Stories ~**~**~ The Gift of Song Cheryl Williams The first time I met eight year
old Sophie, she was sitting on a swing in the backyard pulling her hair
out in clumps. She told me she did it because it felt good to her and
made her forget other "stuff". Edwin was a bit different.
He was a happy-go-lucky six year old who was always smiling. He was also
prone to ask me if I could be his new mommy as he sucked vigorously on his
thumb. Cassie was a beautiful four year
old who was developmentally disabled from where her mama's boyfriend had
decided to use her head for a battering ram. Sheri was a quiet eight year old
who could charm you with her sweet smile. All she lived for was the day
she would be back with her mother...the same mother who sold her to the highest
bidder for some crack, and watched as she was sexually assaulted. Beautiful children. All of
them. Clients whose names I have changed here, but they were more than
clients. They helped change my life. I went into the position of
Case Manager at the group home to help them. I had no idea that they
would help me in the process. As a victim of childhood sexual
abuse myself, I had always felt a calling to help others who had been
through the same experience as I had. It was the only way I could think
of to turn something so negative into something positive. I had survived
my trauma, and I wanted to somehow let other children know they could survive
theirs. It wasn't easy. Battered
children are angry children who do not trust. They wait expectantly for
the bottom to drop out of their world. They wait for the next blow...the
next disappointment. They wait for the day you just decide you don't want them
anymore and decide to leave. Gaining their trust is not an
easy thing. As much as I tried, the barriers were so hard to break
through. In the process, I was physically attacked on a repeated
basis. I was threatened with a butcher knife a five year old was
brandishing. I was shoved against the wall and pounded with fists.
I was kicked, bitten, stabbed with pencils...going home many a night with lead
in my arms. I was almost pushed down the stairs on more than one occasion.
All of the above behaviors resulted in me having to therapeutically restrain
the children...for their safety and for mine. As I was restraining them,
I would talk them down to a calm state until I made the decision they were
ready to be released. Abused children find it hard to
believe that anyone could really like them, much less love them. So when
anyone seems to actually care, they start feeling anxious. They attack,
scream, call names. They do anything they can think of in an attempt to
push the person away. It's the way they test to see if your love is real
or fake. Many times, after a incident such as the ones I described above,
the children would come to me and apologize, hug me, and tell me they were
sorry. Once they saw I wasn't going to leave them or stop caring, it
touched something inside. Breaking through the barriers to
reach these children is so difficult. But in my experience at the group
home I worked at, I found a way that worked for me...and that was by singing. Since I was a small child, I
loved to sing. Not only did I love to sing, I was told I had a
beautiful voice. When I was small, before my abuse started, I would sing
in church and in front of groups of people. I wasn't the least bit
shy. But when my own abuse started, something inside of me changed.
I no longer felt special. I felt ugly. I felt that anyone listening
to me sing would somehow be able to see what was happening to me on a daily
basis. So I stopped singing. I no longer even felt like singing. But at the group home, that
changed. Each night as the staff would tuck the children into bed, we
were supposed to do a story, song, and prayer with the children. It gave
them a sense of security and of being loved. (Bedtime was very often their
most traumatic time when living at home). When I first started working there, I
noticed that most of the staff sang very quickly...songs like "Twinkle,
Twinkle Little Star" and other traditional children's songs, so I began
doing the same. One night little Edwin
looked up at me and said, "Ms. Cheryl. You sing pretty. Do you
know any other songs?" I remember smiling down at him
and telling him I would try and think of some for the next night. I went
home and tried to think of some other songs the children might like...uplifting
songs with a message. Around this time there was a children's movie out
called "Space Jam", with a song called "I Believe I Can
Fly". I remembered how much the children loved both the movie and
the song, so I decided to learn the words to it. The next night I used that song
for my bedtime song with Edwin. The song is about believing in miracles,
even when they seem so out of reach. It's about that inner hope that keeps us
going when times are difficult. When I was done singing, Edwin was grinning
from ear to ear. About that time Sophie's voice
came calling from the next room. "Ms. Cheryl...can you do my song
tonight please?" So I went and sang the same song to her. Night after night a pattern
emerged. I began to get song requests like a radio disc jockey. And
each night, the children would do their best to try and get me to be the one to
tuck them into bed. I made a song booklet for each child with the words
to the songs I would sing to them at night, so that they could learn the words
too. Some of the songs I would sing to them were: "I Believe I
Can Fly", "My Favorite Things", "High Hopes",
"You Are My Sunshine", "Clouds", along with several
others. When the children would leave the group home to go live in an adoptive
home or back to their family of origin, they would take their songbook with
them so they could sing the songs themselves. I was at the group home for six
years. During that time, many children passed through those doors.
I loved them all. I laughed with them, cried with them, and I sang to
them. I never truly realized the impact my singing had on them until a
few years ago. It was my last year at the group home, and I got a phone
call right in the middle of a special dinner we were having to celebrate Black
History Month. It was Edwin. When Edwin had been at the group home
he was six years old. He had left the group home to be adopted when he
was eight. On the evening he called me, he was eleven years old. I
hadn't seen or talked to him in four years. I'll never forget what he
said to me. "Ms. Cheryl. Do you
remember that song you used to sing to me..."I Believe I Can
Fly?" Can you sing it to me again? Whenever I feel sad, I
always remember you singing that song to me." I smiled and said,
"Edwin. Of course I remember singing it. I still sing it to
the children here." "Will you sing it to me, Ms.
Cheryl. Please?" "Right now?" I asked,
looking over my shoulder at the room full of dinner guests. "Yes...please??" I took a deep breath and softly I
began to sing into the phone. "I believe I can fly...." I
sat there and sang the entire song to him softly
while our dinner guests stared at me wondering who on earth I
was singing to. That evening I learned
something. I learned that something as simple as a song can touch a
life. And I learned that God works in mysterious ways. My
gift of singing was a gift I thought I would never use again after my own
abuse. But God turned it around full circle so that I was able to use
my singing to help other victims of abuse. He gave me my voice back, and
taught me how to "fly". Cheryl
Williams ~**~**~ Under Dog Strikes Again
One team had a crackerjack great passer, while the other
team was a grind it out on the ground. It was figured by many the passer would
pass till the other was beat into the ground trying to defend against the great
passer. It didn't work that way, the passer
Oh, if you forgot that game between number one and two.
The grind it ~**~**~ Poetry Corner ~**~**~ ~ My Shepherd ~
Begins to exude through me. © 2007 by Joyce C. Lock ~**~**~ A Child With A
Learning Disability Linda Ann Henry I cannot add or
subtract Do you love me
any less for that My teachers do
not know what to do They ask my
parent if they knew I am a child who
has a learning disability I can not make
out what I see Some say I have
failed Does that mean
you will not kiss me now I do not draw or
create It is hard for me
to keep up my pace I wonder who just
makes the rules Sometimes I
become confused Why are you
frustrated And do not see What life has
given to me I am a child
who wants people to find That my disabilty
was not meant to be mine Give me laugher,
give me song Help me feel that
I belong I can still be
good, I can carry on There is a place
for me If only you open
your eyes and see Show me how much
you care By not judging me If you really
look Take part in all
I do Just love me as I
love you Linda Ann Henry Do you Remember
me The People's poet Readers Feedback
Re
Miracle Cat by Earla Jean Holon, Thank you Jean for a marvelous story. In
despair we sometimes forget about miracles and then blame God when things don’t
turn out as we prayed. Miracles should convince us of the rightness of
outcomes regardless. “God’s will be done” Forgive me if I have
misquoted. We should accept God’s will with a measure of peace. The
course of events had been drawn. But, the good Lord is always pleased to
see our efforts at intervention for positive outcomes. He encourages
those efforts. Sometimes he makes a miracle just to give our minds a hint
of possibilities, a measure of hope and a hint of power not known or
understood. Louise
Storytime Tapestry Angels Angels on earth, they exist they are out there. Angels come in all ages, shapes and sizes,
civil status, and religion. Their nature
is love and their purpose is giving to the less fortunate of this world. Storytime Tapestry angels are no
exception. These angels are loyal
members who have contributed to the upkeep of Storytime Tapestry newsletter so
that Storytime Tapestry can continue come to your email Here is our Storytime
Tapestry Angels: Also, I would like to thank those of you who chose to
be a silent angel and gave an anonymous donation to keep Storytime
Tapestry up and running. Clara Westerfer, Mark Crider,
Rosanne Catalano, Paula Booher, Kay Seefeldt, Mariane Holbrook, Mary Ellen
Grisham, Louise Nomani, Sharon Bryant, Angela Walker, Hart and Helen Dowd,
Keith Ready, Ginger Morgenstern, Ellie Braun-Haley, Surinder Jandu, Bob Shaw,
Carol Meeks, Charlotte Hilliard, Maria Keller
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| << September06, 2007 - Time Sensitive- Please read - Opening for Pray Retreat |
September06, 2007 - September 6, 2007 - Special Treat - Tanja Cilia >> |
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