By Winnie Bolton
Children are the love of our lives so when they are experiencing moral behavior problems it is disturbing to us as a society.
If we can intervene in a positive way, many of us try.
Before moving to Mount Angel in 1990, I had volunteered at a 500-bed hospital in Phoenix, Ariz.
One specialized unit dealt with children’s behavioral problems. The children who were sent there by the court system had conditions ranging from consistent school truancy, pyromania to suicide attempts to name just a few. They ranged in age from 8 to 12 years old.
It was my privilege to work with counselors running the workshops. Eventually, the staff gave me permission as a volunteer to try some of my ideas to occupy the free time of the children who I spent time with.
One of the fun games I did was to create an “art gallery” in their hallway.
Before hanging up their drawings or paintings, we discussed feelings of anger, jealousy, fear and more and what it would look like if we put those emotions on paper.
Their work was remarkable; illustrating the sentiments they felt without having to use words.
While walking through our pretend gallery, each child could explain the meaning of his or her art. They were beginning to own their feelings – the beginnings of responsibility at a young age.
Another game they loved was riding on their magic carpets up and down this 10-story hospital building, landing on puffy white clouds looking down perhaps on a zoo, river, forest, their own backyard – wherever their imagination took them.
With their eyes closed, they laid on the floor and pretended where their magic carept was taking them, with my voice guiding them on their fantasy journey. After arriving back, they were eager to share where they had been. Some were adventurous, no two alike. The nurses reported the children were more peaceful going off to sleep on their magic carpets.
One afternoon the counselor, Steve, was strumming on his guitar while we sat around in a circle when suddenly a 10-year-old boy, who had been abused, grabbed me from behind.
The singing and strumming continued like nothing unusual was happening. I felt safe but scared.
I wouldn’t yell, he might squeeze harder, and just as quickly he let go.
“I love you,” he whispered and returned to his space in the circle as his beautiful dark blue eyes stared triumphantly back at mine.
It’s experiences like these of unadulterated joy that are stored in my memory bank as we possess the happiness to bring to others at any time in our lives when the opportunity presents itself.
