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| Story Time Moms - Reaching Out to Mothers and Children In Need |
| Messages From Mom By MICHELLE BEARDEN mbearden@tampatrib.com Published: Dec 23, 2004 in The Tampa Tribune Baylife Section |
| TAMPA - She clutches the handwritten note tightly, trying to steady her trembling hands. Her sea-green eyes brim with tears. Jennifer Watson knew this was going to be an emotional experience. She just didn't know it would hurt this much. She takes a deep breath and continues reading. ''I don't want you to think that you're not loved or you have been forgotten. You are both my precious gifts from God. You have been very strong and I want you to keep your head up,'' she says into the tape recorder, her voice breaking. “Know that this will be over soon. Every day that passes is one more day I'm closer to being there to hold you both in my arms again and give you sweet kisses and hugs.” Watson, 31, is in prison this Christmas. She began her three-year sentence in June for possession of a controlled substance and fraud. She knows this is as close to her children as she'll get this holiday, and knowing that she has only herself to blame makes the hurt that much sharper. Watson left behind a history of drug and alcohol abuse, an 8-year-old daughter who lives with Watson's mother and a 14-year-old son. He's acting out and is in a residential therapeutic program. On this sunny December day, behind steel doors and guarded by uniformed officers at Hillsborough Correctional Institution in Riverview, Watson is getting a chance to make amends and build a connection with her children. She's taking part in Story Time Moms, a ministry of LifeSpring Community Church in Tampa. Volunteers visit the prison twice a month to tape- record the inmates reading bedtime stories and personal messages to their children. Tapes are then mailed to the kids, who also receive a new tape recorder, compliments of the church. For some of the mothers, it's the only line of communication with their children. Or it can supplement letters they exchange. Watson tries not to think of how many Christmases, birthdays, school concerts and junior high football games she has missed sharing with her son and daughter. She's praying they won't give up on her, that they'll believe this time, that she will stay clean and try to make something of her life. That includes attending Alcoholics Anonymous and Narcotics Anonymous meetings, working on her GED and taking parenting and anger management classes while serving her time. This is the first time she has recorded a tape. She reads ``Jolly Old St. Nicholas'' for Jena and tries to imagine her daughter listening to it as she drifts off to sleep. Watson hopes when her children hear her voice, they'll believe her promise to do right by them. “I don't think you can make up for anything you've done in the past,'' she says. “You can stop making the mistakes and start living your life correctly.” Watson knows the palm- sized tape is no substitute for a mother's touch and guidance. But it's all she has right now. And in this intangible way, she can be with her kids. “ Just close your eyes and pretend I'm right there,'' she says into the rolling tape. “Not a minute goes by that I don't think of you.” Chapter 1- For Ministry Without Dianne Marchman and Elaine Wright, Story Time Moms wouldn't exist. Both are mothers and grandmas. Marchman, 52, is a nurse and the prison's volunteer chaplain; Wright, 53, is an art teacher and wife of the Rev. Bruce Wright, founder of LifeSpring church. The women met at a Shapes gym and became fast friends. “Like chocolate and peanut butter,” Marchman says with a laugh. She began attending LifeSpring and helped launch the church's prison ministry program at Hillsborough Correctional, then a facility for boys. “ I've always had a heart for it,” Marchman says of her prison volunteer work. “I look at these women and think, “There but for the grace of God go I. I wasn't such a good girl all my life. A few wrong choices and I could be wearing a blue uniform.” Wright's first visit proved scary: the barbed wire, the clanging of the doors, all the searching and security. “You come in here and it's a whole different world,” she says. In April, the Riverview prison made its own transformation. The young male offenders were moved to other facilities, and the prison instituted the state's first faith-based, character-building program for women of any security level. A similar program for men had been established a few months earlier in Lawtey. Inmates from all religious backgrounds volunteer to serve their sentences there. They participate in an array of secular and faith programs led by either staff or volunteers. After the boys were moved, Marchman didn't want to abandon the ministry but to enhance it. She looked for ideas on the Internet and found her basis for Story Time Moms in England. Wright liked it, too. She remembered the bonding she enjoyed with her children as they sat in a rocking chair and read on rainy days. She also saw it as an opportunity to help prison moms begin the healing process with their children, many of whom are hurt and alienated by the separation. “It's a way of saying, I'm sorry, and it really comes through,” Wright says. “We have to stop the tapes sometimes because the moms go through that emotional thing. I hope the children can hear that on the other end.” Meeting The Children Jena Humphrey can hear it. When the first-grader at Helen E. Davis Elementary School in Town 'N Country got an unexpected visit in mid-December from Marchman and Wright, she didn't know why two strangers would be bringing her a wrapped present with a big bow. But kids being kids, she ripped open the package with abandon. “A radio!” she cried out in glee. Marchman told her it was also a cassette recorder and it could play tapes. And I have another present for you. It's a tape from your mother. Let's play it.” Marchman pushed the button to start. Jena's eyes grew wide as she heard her mother's voice greet her. A tiny smile spread into a wide grin as she cocked her head closer to the recorder and listened to her mother reading a Christmas story. Then came the personal message and Jennifer Watson's voice catching. Jena could hear the stifled sobs. Tears sprang up and streamed down her own face. “ I miss my mommy,” she said later. “I think about her a lot.” This was a new experience for Wright and Marchman. Typically, they meet only with the moms. At the Tribune's request, they agreed to hand-deliver the tapes and recorders to two homes. They would like to do that all the time, but with just a handful of volunteers, it would be impossible. “ It completes the cycle,” Wright says. “I knew in my heart these tapes made an impact. Now I've seen it.” Their next stop was to the Ybor City home of Antonio Pasley, the 8-year-old son of Felicia Hobley-Ransom, 33. His mother is serving two sentences for possession and sale of cocaine, possession of a firearm and resisting arrest with violence. Her earliest release date is January 2009. Polite and shy, the third- grader from Broward Elementary School doesn't know his mom very well - or his dad, for that matter. His father is in prison, too. Antonio has been raised by his paternal grandmother and her boyfriend since he was an infant. He loves Michael Vick of the Atlanta Falcons, and math comes easily to him. He wants a race car for Christmas. Those things he can say with certainty. His mother is more of a question mark. Who is she? Why can't she live with him? Will she ever be part of his life? Wright pushed the play button on his new recorder. Antonio bowed his head and listened intently to the voice coming out of the machine. “I want you to know that I ask you in my heart to forgive me for not being there for you. But as long as God keeps breath in my body, I will do my best at being the best mom I can be.” “ I miss you and I love you so much. I can't change the past, but I will do my best making the future a better one. So don't give up on me. I love and miss you.” The tape has the same effect on Antonio as it did on Jena. He smiles some and cries a little. He takes it out of the machine and holds it in his hands. After his guests leave, Antonio will go into his room to listen to it again. He really doesn't know his mother. But they look so much alike, there's no mistaking that they're related. For now, these tapes will be his only steady connection to the woman who gave him birth. It's a start. A Divine Blessing Barbara Jackson, 35, entered Florida's prison system in November 2000, sentenced for battery with a deadly weapon and aggravated assault with a deadly weapon. The earliest release date for the mother of six is January 2006. She says an addiction to drugs got in the way of her being a good mother and law- abiding citizen. Since her incarceration, she has tried to make amends by earning her GED and working on a correspondence degree from a Bible college. When she gets out, she wants to go into the ministry. She calls the Story Time Moms program and the volunteers who make it possible a “divine blessing from God.” The tapes are helping her connect with her youngest daughter, 7, and start building a relationship interrupted by her actions. “Just to know that you can send something like this, from the prison system, expressing your love,” she says, “That's more than enough for me. It makes me want to do even better, to show how much I appreciate this.” How to get involved: |