i know my biggest fear, and it eats me alive.

the fear of hurting those i love.

i know my second biggest fear, and it strikes out when i cannot see it.

the fear of watching those i love get hurt.

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it is a fearful thing to love.

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we were packed into the church, people coming in and coming out. i stayed squished between the end of the pew and Erica. what are you doing? you are sitting there waiting for someone else to go up to the casket and hurt. sob. some people quietly, some people loudly. one woman pushed her way out saying “i gotta get out, i gotta get out.” some were carried out, too weak to stand. some set their jaw and just looked.

i felt like a masakist. masaquist…spelling? those people who like to hurt themselves. it was killing me to sit there, but i wouldn’t leave for the world. i wanted to be there. wanted to prove something. wanted to make a statement–i cared. and i didn’t know how else to do it. i wanted to bear the pain. i wanted to take some of it from them–from little Curtis–and bear it myself. because then i would feel like i wasn’t useless.

maybe my second greatest fear is being useless when those i love are hurting.

i saw so many faces. i kept looking at faces. i wanted to look down, to pretend like tears were not in their eyes, but i couldn’t. i had to see their faces. So many of the kids i knew. so many from the center. some i knew better than others. some passed with a “Hey Ms.Rachel.” always a “Ms.” except for Greg, who is now 23 and said he is too old for saying “Ms.”

My kids are no longer kids. i saw them all grown up, so many of the girls with babies. the boys are so tall. but i still know them–somewhere they are still there within those older faces. The youth center is full of a new generation. the generation i was with was there at the funeral, older than they should be. old, old, old before they are 20.

A pastor that helped at the youth center shared how Daniel (the boy who died) had prayed for God to save him March 9th, 2009. And how his life had changed.

and i needed to hear that. everyone did. A minister gave a great message on Psalms 24. in the traditional black style. i haven’t heard that in a long time. i’ve missed it. it is somewhere back in my heart where i call home.

final. so final.

the boy who shot Daniel turned himself in.

please pray for Curtis. please pray for Miracle. please pray for the rest of their family. please pray for the funeral on Friday. please pray the finances would come in.

please pray for two of my girls–who i have known since they were 10 and 11–they are now 17 and 18 and both expecting babies in the fall. they both plan on keeping them.

Please pray for Brandon, who just got out of jail last Friday. he has nothing. he is trying to get his life back together and…the road is so high and steep.

There are a lot of people hurting. everyone is holding their own sorrow. let us put aside our selfishness and bear the burdens of others. let it begin with me.

God bless you.

not the children God. Why should the children suffer? let all the older people bear it. let me bear it. but not the children.

I’ve been volunteering at the Youth Center every Tuesday. When i got back from Brasil, i wanted to work there, but they did not have the finances to hire me. so just on Tuesdays. I met a little boy named Curtis. He sucks his thumb and talks too loud. he grabs me and says, “no, help me with my work!” when i start to talk to someone else. Curtis always has a lot of homework. Every Tuesday. i do the homework table. Curtis is my star…or at least the bright light that keeps flashing in my eyes. Then he wants to play basketball. then he wants to play air hockey.

Johnny Adams, who used to be one of my little boys that i beat at basketball, was joking with me. He is now six foot something and can dunk. i don’t play him anymore. i don’t like losing. He said “hey, i see you’ve found your new group of little guys” when Curtis and i where hooping up on some others.

I also met Miracle. i noticed her standing outside the circle of chattering girls. That is where she normally stands. she gave me a lonely smile. i keep up with the kids i know, but haven’t really met many of the new kids. The Youth Center has a sudden burst of 8-12 year olds, who seem to be everywhere and taking over.

Friday, Curtis and Miracle’s older brother Daniel (who’s one of the scruffy boys that’s been hanging out at the center since they were 8) who is now 15, got in a fight with a girl.

i don’t know the whole story. i don’t want to know the whole story.

the girl called a guy to come get him and this guy came and shot Daniel in the face. Daniel died on his front porch last Friday.

they don’t have the money to bury him. the Youth Center is having a Daniel fund to try to raise the $1,600 needed. the funeral is this Friday. I heard about this during opening assembly at the center.

afterwords, i asked Curtis if he had his homework. no, it was spring break. but he did want to play basketball. We shot around. dribble dribble. “did you hear about that boy?” “yeah” i said. “that was my brother.” “how are you doing?” dribble dribble shoot. we shot around some more. then we played air hockey. and then pool. he won that game.

not the children God. Why should the children suffer? let all the older people bear it. let me bear it. but not the children.

  sometimes they are so cute and perfect looking it makes me sick. but not really. they are rather great subjects for a photo shoot:

not that i need a reason:).

Karianne did a photo shoot thingy for Anna and Donovan. and me and Carina. it was lovely to spend time with her and her amazing family…

I have ze ticket.

i think everyone actually thinks i know what i am doing in life. sometimes this makes me laugh. other times it makes me feel very alone.

normally…i say what i think sounds like a good idea.

i say it again and again. i listen to myself speak. i listen to how it sounds. i look to see how the person responds. and then i let the idea sit. by this time, most people are like “oh, that is what you are doing then.”

whereas in my head, it is all still rather scattered.

and then somewhere down the line, some random day comes up and the decision pops itself in my face and i click “buy ticket”

and Lord willing, i will be in Brasil July 6-December 16.

and i am very happy. everyone else is just like “Well, you already told us you were going to do this.” but to me…the decision wasn’t really final…it commitment wasn’t really made…until i got the message from Orbitz that showed my recipt.

by the way–It was an amazing price. thanks God.

i love that movie. you know that part where the old uncle got out of the hospital and those four rebellious guys need to be taught a lesson? he stands up and says this line that gives me goosebumps. “I’m Hub McCann. I’ve fought in two World Wars and countless smaller ones on three continents. I led thousands of men into battle with everything from horses and swords to artillery and tanks. I’ve seen the headwaters of the Nile, and tribes of natives no white man had ever seen before. I’ve won and lost a dozen fortunes, KILLED MANY MEN and loved only one woman with a passion a FLEA like you could never begin to understand. That’s who I am. NOW, GO HOME, BOY!”

so i wrote my own. some of it is mine, some of it is just me writing pretty platitudes on recipt paper at Carsons:

I have lived in two countries and claimed them as my own.

I have watched those i love die and those i hate live.

I have fought for many causes and won many arguments.

I have worked to end the suffering of those who do not have. 

I have striven to make the world a better place by sharing the love God spills into me.

I have loved two men with all i had in me.

I have dreamed of doing greater things than i could and have lost many presumptions and expectations along the way.

I have died to myself and been raised to live a life that is not my own, but His who gave His life for me.

I have run thousands of miles, one at a time.

I have laughed when i should have cried and cried when i should have laughed.

I have failed more often than not–but haven’t kept count.

I have played hard just to get dirty and woken up early just to see the new sun.

I have eaten what i liked and liked what i have eaten.

I have listened for the still small voice and found it in the silence as well as in the rain.

I have heard words that cause our hearts to live and die.

I have tried to live each day as if it were my last.

I have spoken two languages and dreamed with them both.

I have seen beauty that hurt to look at, and had pain that released me to live.

I have read books that said what i couldn’t, and have written words i couldn’t speak.

I have taught many things i did not do, but tried anyways.

We are having a girls nite. excluding only males…

i guess you could call it a wedding shower/bachelorette party/everyone who’s been a part of Anna’s life get together.

On Friday, April 3rd, 7:00pm at my house–we will have yummy things to eat and lots of fun things (open to suggestion at the moment).

(my house being 4209 Otterbein, Indianapolis, IN 46227 for mapquest people)

Please come–but tell me you are coming because then we won’t be eating ice cream for years and years because we overbought.

RSVP–amobrasil99@hotmail.com

or 317-784-1535

yes yes yes…i actually mailed out invitations today. so if you hear about this twice, then great–if not…then come anyways.

Rachel (trying senselessly to be the proper maid of honor)

On the fourth day of April, in the year of our Lord Two Thousand nine, it is requested the honour of thy kind and noble presence, and that of thy household. 

To partake in sweet celebration of the marriage of the beloved,

Anna Winzeler

(daughter of Sir James and Lady Cynthia Winzeler) who has been united, in bonds of matrimony, with the gallant

Donavan Embry

(son of Sir Randal and Lady Elizabeth Embry)

At four o’clock in the afternoon, Festivity and Merriment will take place at the church of Horizon Christian Fellowship, number 1001 on East Palmer Road, in the 46203 shire of Indianapolis. 

An attempt at medieval style is recommended, and hereby it is proclaimed that a tax of some sort shall be charged upon each person who enters without forementioned raiment. Festivity includes  feasting of soup and subtleties,  games and entertainment, music and dancing, as part of this memoriable day. For those who wish to be of assistance, a kindly token of food to share would be appreciated. Thy guestures of service are warmly esteemed.             

Furthermore, kindly RSVP to Lady Rachel Winzeler at: amobrasil99@hotmail.com or (317) 784-1535

My ethics teacher…(pause. these words should have some title following them. he isn’t dead or i would say “may he rest in peace…) said a philosopher was speaking at IUPUI yesterday.

i asked how much it was.

fur free.

that, and since i wasn’t working, and i might never see a famous philosopher ever again…made me go. i get these urges more now. these “AHH! i am leaving the USA and must do everything possible that i might not ever get to do in Brasil…”

So this guy was voted one of the 100 most influential people in the world by Time magazine.

you don’t normally get to listen to them speak for free.

so i went. and i am really glad i did. he just wrote a book about world poverty.

i sat right behind him diagonally. he has hair missing above his ears and then hanging sideburns. he needs a haircut. and no fancy clothes. and i liked him much better for all that.

world poverty would be something that beats next to my heart. sometimes on top of my heart. and i knew all the things he said…

it just made a difference when he said them.

dumb…maybe. but nice. he had some good ideas. i fear i am a socialist at heart, and would be Robin Hood if i lost my morals (i can see myself wandering around, hands outstreached–”i lost my morals! help! i’ve lost my morals!). and take from the rich and give to the poor.

and i know these are not all the answers. but…27,000 children die a day. from SPECIFICALLY treatable poverty causes…mostly diaraiah (sp? i have never been able to spell that durn word) and sicknesses from starvation or improper water and health care. $.30 can stop a child from dying of diahriah. (it does cost more to GET the treatment there…but still).

he outlined a plan: those who make $50,000 a year or less–give 1% of your income to programs working toward ending world poverty (in some way). those who make $100,000 a year or less–give 5%, 150,000 or less give 10%. it is figured that $180,000,000 a year would stop children dying from poverty. if USA did this plan, over $500,000,000 would be given.

and lots more. like that. and…i like solutions. even if i know they aren’t happening right now–i like knowing they can. i like hope. i like Peter Singer.

although i don’t agree with everything he says. if i did, we would be twins or something.

he has rather controversial views on Euthinasia and severely handicapped…

to tell the truth…if i were him, i woulda just ignored those things. that is mostly what i do right now. the problem being…both sides sound so persuasive at times. and i’ve never been there. it has never affected me. and so…how can i speak?

but how can i not speak?