Life

These are poems sent in by folks who found them elsewhere - if anyone knows who wrote them, let me know so I can credit them!

Heaven's Very Special Child

A meeting was held quite far from earth, It`s time again for another birth. Said the angels to the lord above, "This special child will need much love." His progress may seem very slow, Accomplishments he may not show, And he`ll require extreme care, From the folks he meets down there. He may not run or laugh or play, His thoughts may seem quite far away. In many ways he wont adapt, And he`ll be known as handicapped. So let's be careful where he`s sent, We want his life to be content. Please lord find the parents who, Will do this special job for You. They will not realise right away, The leading role they`re asked to play. But with this child sent from above, Come stronger faith and richer love. And soon they`ll know the privilige given, In caring for their gift from heaven. Their precious child so meek and mild, IS HEAVENS VERY SPECIAL CHILD.

(sent in by the Brown family)

Truth - sent in by Narelle Brown

Sticks and stones may break my bones

But words can also hurt me

Stones and sticks break only skin

While words, are ghosts that haunt me

Slant and curved the word-swords fall

To pierce and stick inside me

Bats and brick may ache through bones

But words can mortify me

Pain from words has left it's scar

On mind and heart that's tender

Cuts and bruises now have healed

It's words that I remember

Help me Mommy - sent in by Julie

Help me Mommy, help me please
There's something in me no one sees
It's hidden in me, hidden well
To look at me, you can not tell
Others blame you for the things that I do
They think you don't spank me, if they only knew Our days are not easy, and sometimes you cry
At bedtime we pray, and ask our Creator why?
I hit and I kick you Mom, when I get mad
And after I do it, I feel really sad
I want to stop, but I don't know how
I need to have patience, and I need it NOW!
My friends, they don't always understand
I explain I can't help it, but they think that I can But I know that YOU love me, both you and Dad
Not only when I'm good, but when I'm bad!
Tourette sundrome, that's the culprit to blame I don't understand just how it came
It makes me do dumb things called "tics"
I wish it was something the doctor could fix! I swipe at my hair and I tug at my clothes
And make sure that I kiss you "twice" on the nose I even things up, and I'm compulsive, you know
Things have to "feel" right to me, be just exactly so. I swear and I scream, and my shriek is so shrill
that you know when it's time for another pill I'm hyperactive too I just can't be still
But I'll do better tomorrow Mom, I PROMISE I will! I'll make my bed and I'll comb my hair
Brush my teeth? Sure thing, Mom don't despair I'll be so good, Mommy, you will see
I promise that tomorrow, I'll be a much better me! Hit my sister? Nope, NEVER again
We'll play Nintendo together I'll even let HER win My teacher; she'll be happy too
when she sees all the things I'm gonna do
I'll pay attention in class, and sit up straight I'll come in when the bell rings, and not be late Keep my hands to myself, and be sure not to giggle I'll be quiet as a mouse, and try hard not to wiggle I'll be good on the playground, not push, shove or run I'll take turns playing tetherball, and have lots of fun "onion" notes? - no more of those for me A "regular" kid - that's what I'll be
That "regular" kid? He's inside me somewhere I can be him someday, with your love and care
If others would only just give me a chance
Not criticize, judge me, or throw darts with a glance Not ridicule, laugh, or show faces of scorn
But know I can't help the way I was born!
Just accept it that all of us cannot be
programmed to act just perfectly
Please help me Mommy, help me to show
Tourettes is an illness then others will know If they would only take time to see
There's a whole lot of wonderful; GOOD inside me!!

When God created Mothers of Tourette Syndrome Children

When God was creating mothers of Tourette children, he was into his sixth day of overtime. An Angel appeared and said, "You are putting a lot of work and thought into this one." God said, "Have you read the specifications on this order?" A Tourette mother must have extraordinary eyes, so that she can still see what a special child she has, when others are blinded by the disorder. She needs an unheard of energy level, so as not to quit when others have given up. Her skin must be thicker, so she can withstand all the injustices and questioning of her parenting skills. I've even given her a stronger heart, with more capacity for love and compassion. "God", said the Angel, touching his sleeve, "You'd better rest, and work on this tomorrow." "I can't", said God, " There are more Tourette children, than the world knows." The Angel circled very slowly, studying every feature. Suddenly, she stopped, and bent closer, and ran a finger across the woman's cheek. "There is a leak," she pronounced. "I think you were trying to put too much into this model." "That's not a leak," said God. "It's a tear-drop." "What is the tear drop for?" asked the Angel. "I suppose it is for bottled-up emotions, from too much unfairness and lack of understanding." "You are a genius," said the Angel. The Lord looked somber and leaned wearily back on his throne. "I didn't put it there", He said.

Richard D. Hensley

Tourette Syndrome Association of Ontario

I CAN`T HELP IT - by Suzanne Smith (sent in by Linda)

Sorry Mum,
I called you names
and screamed abuse
I know it sounds like an excuse, but
I CAN`T HELP IT

Sorry mum,
I teased the cat
hit my brother, pinched my dad
I didn`t mean to do that
I CAN`T HELP IT

Sorry mum,
I pulled your hair
and bit your arm
I never meant you any harm
I CAN`T HELP IT.

Sorry Jen,
I yelled at you
lost my patience temper too
that wasn`t the right thing to do
YOU CAN`T HELP IT

Suzanne Smith
Taken from the 1994 Newsletter

The Fence - sent in by Cheryl in the USA

There was a little boy with a bad temper. His father gave him a bag of nails and told him that every time he lost his temper, to hammer a nail in the back fence. The first day the boy had driven 37 nails into the fence. Then it gradually dwindled down. He discovered it was easier to hold his temper than to drive those nails into the fence. Finally the day came when the boy didn't lose his temper at all. He told his father about it and the father suggested that the boy pull out one nail a day for each day that he was able to hold his temper. The days passed and the young boy was finally able to tell his father that all the nails were gone. The father took his son by the hand and led him to the fence. He said "You have done well, my son, but look at the holes in the fence. The fence will never be the same. When you say things in anger, they leave a scar just like this one. You can put a knife in a man and draw it out. It won't matter how many times you say I'm sorry, the wound is still there. A verbal wound is as bad as a physical one.

Author unknown