THE CHILDREN OF THE DANCE
This is the music of the dance
In memory of the children dead
For the the children ahead
They are the children of the dance
They are the wounded children
Healed and alive
May they dance in freedom
Without shame
Without pain
The children of the dance
Their story is not a misery story
Their story is my story
It is a voice raised
It is a voice for change
The Damaged Child
He woke her up this morning
As she was sleeping there
He saw a damaged child
That no one could repair
Without His healing touch
She would not see the sun
Or hear the singing of the birds
Too much had gone wrong
He gave her ears that she could hear
The singing of the dove
He filled her soul with music
Her heart He filled with love
He took her in her arms
As she was sleeping there
He knew her wounded heart
Would never be repaired
Until she heard His voice that day
While she was walking on the way.
Poems from Outside the Gate /j.smith
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Let the little girl dance,
Let the little girl dance
She wants to give it a try
Standing by herself
Now she got the nerve to take a chance
So let the little girl dance
Let the little girl through
She's been a little wallflower on the shelf
Let the little girl through
She wants to dance with you /Billy Bland
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The Mini- Miss Orphan Contest
"It was an important day. there was a lineup of girls waiting to be introduced to perspective foster parents. Little girls dressed in their 'Sunday best' waiting in line. This was a Miss Orphan contest.
Miss Julie had shampooed and fussed over my fine curly hair. I was seven years old.
Twelve girls all wiggled and squirmed in the line up. Only one of us would be chosen.
We watched in wide- eyed wonder as a beautiful lady and a handsome man walked down the line.
The lady looked like Snow White with red lipstick and the man looked like the Handsome Prince.
All of us girls looked with longing. "Would they take me?" I wondered?
/excerpt from Outside the Gate.
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"So you have not received a spirit that makes you fearful slaves.
Instead, you received God's Spirit when he adopted you as his own children
Now you call him, "Abba Father."
For his Spirit joins with our spirit to affirm we are God's children.
And since we are his children we are his heirs.
In fact, together with Christ we are heirs of God's glory.
But if we are to share his glory, we must also share his suffering."
(Romans 8:15)
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