Was how my brother introduced himself to someone the other day. ahhh. so proud.

Rowan Garrett Embry. 7.4 pounds, 21 inches, born March 21, 6:15pm. I am an Auntie.

The Living Stones program finished for the year around when I left—with a swinging Christmas party, made possible by people like you (I sound like that PBS commercial). January is their summer vacation, and then towards the end of January, beginning February they have group meetings with all the other groups of PETI, playing games and decorating masks and such for Carnival.

The program then had one week of normal hours, and then a week off for Carnival itself, resuming, officially, February 22, 2010

Communication is still a bit difficult, but here is what I know has happened since December:

·         There is a new coordinator of PETI, Das Neves. Hopes are high that she will be able to make sure the money comes through to have food on a more regular basis this year.

·         The time (end of January, beginning of February) with Living Stones joining the other PETI groups went well, and the workers were able to be God’s light and example.

·         They had a special Carnival celebration, making sure to be sensitive to stay away from the party/drinking/sex themes, and teaching/learning about the better parts of their culture

·         The music teacher has been able to get some recorders for the children, and they are practicing a song that they will be presenting in church—please pray for this service, as the children and their parents will be invited.

·         Please pray as they begin to work on a special Easter celebration!

Resources are still a day-to-day necessity. If you would like to contribute to food (for whenever the local government hits a clog), resources (paper, pencils, games—such as a soccer ball for soccer practice), or special projects (every month has a different focus—This month being a special Easter focus and celebration), please let me know or donate online:

Here is the official website:  http://wribrazil.com/

You can click this link and donate directly to Living Stones: http://wribrazil.com/support.html

Patricia and Cacau have requested special prayer for the families of these children, as they are invited to church and the Easter celebration.

I am getting into this “running the tutorial program” stuff. My co-worker gave me the title “Educational Director” (we needed titles for request letters. Grin.) and that made me happy. I’ve been doing unknown holidays. The most memorable being :

Pistol Patent day (February 25)—where we got into a pro/con gun control debate

Pluto Day (February 18)—it’s not a planet, Tortilla chip day—there is a big difference between Doritos and Fritos—do you know why?

Carrot day (February 4)—baby carrots have 70% less nutrition than regular carrots (but I still passed out baby carrots to everyone that day…it was all we had)

Leprosy day (January 29)—yes, people are still affected—including some of my kid’s families in Brazil

Popcorn day (January 19)—I’ve never burnt so much popcorn on one day in my life

Squirrel day (January 21)—We watched “Rocky and Bullwinkle.”

Grammar day (March 4)—played Mad Libs

Freedom day (Februay 1)—Did you know that 27 million people are still slaves today?

And I found an educational game the kids like to play: Bananagrams. I got hooked on it in Brazil, actuallyJ. But after Supercamp training in California, I wanted to try out all the new stuff I learned. This week has gone amazing. We’ve been averaging 50-60 kids a night, but only 15-20 or so for tutorial—this week it went up to 20-30 kids…and we had a good time.  We worked on writing our mission statement, core values, and goals/rules for ourselves. This is stuff I get super excited about, and is great business training, even if they don’t realize that yet. Here are some results the kids wrote down:

Mark: I want to be a teacher to leads by example and respects other people

Tisha: I want to be an artist to show people things I have seen, places I have been, and things I have gone through. My values are family, God, school, church, witnessing and praying for othes.

Corey (age 9): My life purpose is to live life to the fullest, pray, and be with my friends. My values are intelligence, athleticness, standing up for my family—I am willing to die for my little siblings. I will stay healthy so I can be an athlete, I will set a good example for my little brother and cousins, try not to sin so little kids won’t repeat it, and read the Bible to my little siblings.

Kenisha: My life purpose is to help and be there for people to encourage them to do good in life through being a beautician.

Dion: I am going to join the military so I can change the nations.

Booboo: I will become a businessman so I can run my own youth center. My values are helping people, being a leader, having good characteristics, being a businessman, being a youth director, and witnessing to others.

Aaron: My mission is to tell people about God and have a good family when I get older

Various: I want to change the country by helping people to get food and money

Robin: I want to live in a nice neighborhood with my family and no violent people and I will go to church every Sunday.

I haven’t really shared much lately–but a lot is going on at Washington and Rural, Indianapolis, IN.

You get out of it what you put in it.

It just takes so much time to put into something—anything—the amount of time to really do it well. 

We are looking for a new director. I add in my prayers what I think he should be like (single and good looking would be nice), but the trail of candidates has begun. We scare most of them away after the first night. Oh dear.

There is a Muslim family that has been coming to the center lately. My director is surprised they keep coming. His strategy is to not let them leave without hearing about Jesus. Overdo rather than leave undone. Sweet kids. God must be doing something.

You really should come volunteer at the center sometime. So you can meet some of my characters:

Watch lil’ Reggie dance and jiggle his way off the bus at night.

Get another hug from Nay-Nay, who wrote me a letter that said I was the “best girl I every meated—love you Reachl!”

Doodles, who never listens, but always makes me laugh.

Various, who always picks up the trash—because I stand in front of the x-box screen until he does.

Kenisha, who can text faster than talk.

Cailer, who is seven, but insists on being eight to come to the center—who keeps BEGGING me to come to the girl’s Bible study because he KNOWS it is so much better than the boys’ .

Curtis, who at 15, refuses to let anyone know I blocked his shot at basketball.

Miracle, who’s brother  (15) was shot and killed last year, who never believes I don’t have a quarter until I show her I don’t have any pockets.

Airon, who told me to call him Devon, and smiles in appreciation when I do.

I will stop there for the moment. This week we only had minor fights. On the bus, Big Reggie (Big Reggie and lil’ Reggie are brothers. Both of their names are “Reggie H—.” I wonder about the ego of their father) walked past Aaron and wound up a hard first punch. Aaron is three times wider than Big Reggie, who is not big. Do you know how hard it is to pull a big 11 year old off someone else in a little bus seat? I tried, but it didn’t work well until the director stopped the bus and pulled Big Reggie out from above the seat…but his foot. He continued to the door, where Big Reggie’s mom was waiting. Seeing her son carried by the foot did not make her happy. Her choice words were listened to by everyone on the bus as their faces were squished out the left side windows. And they call me “nosey.”

One of the older girls is trying to get her permit. Her name is spelled wrong on her birth certificate. We rode down to change it, but there is some kind of lock, so she has to go to the city/county building to do it. She sighed and said “This is the kinda think I should have a mom to help me with.” I didn’t know what to say to that. We practiced driving around the youth center and the police flashed lights right next to us. It wasn’t for us, but it scared us both enough to have been. She’s yelling “Is that for me? Is that for me?” While I am trying to turn around and find out if it is or not, thinking “This is what I get for teaching someone to drive???” But alas, the police continued on, and so did our breathing. After a minute.

Haven’t been diligent in writing. been distracted by the weather. in California.

Supercamp really is super–something i wasn’t so quickly to believe until i came and saw it for myself. Training was amazing. people are great. and i am ready to change the world. a little sliver of it.

So Wednesday my nose decided to run, and it has kept up a good pace since. Blowing your nose on airplanes is not fun. They flew me to Charlotte to back over Indy to San Diego. Three hour time difference did me in. Know it by Heart–the training to supercamp–was intense and insightful. allllllll day. with yummy food stuck in all the corners.

i

have

so

much

to

learn

i can be such a better teacher. i see it now. now to move forward. And then my aunt and uncle picked me up on Sunday and we ate on the Pier. ahhhh. Ocean. why did people ever move inland??

Rest and love are beautiful environments, and the weather did its share of perfectness. Monday i climbed a mountain and sat on top, looking at islands and Mexico. and ocean. In the evening was a reader’s theater where we heard Irish stories and Gaelic. the real deal. Tuesday was Balboa park. Rembrandt and Picasso and Monet and and this amazing woman in India who was locked in her house for 15 years by her husband so she decorated her walls with clay figure…and lunch by the lily pond. Couldn’t end the evening without a detective play on Coronado. And now it is time to go.

My lil nephew has been good is waiting until i get back to make his entrance.

Happy St. Patty’s day.

just in case you didn’t know…

My vision and mission’s statement: to encourage and assist seeking young people through teaching, sharing, and writing for the purpose of bringing them and myself closer to the heart of God and the person He created us to be.

My core values:

Integrity: being real, true, having a good name, trustworthy

Commitment: diligent, consistent, finishing what you start, pressing on

Kindness: compassion, putting others first, helping others, giving the benefit of the doubt, friendly

Passionate: know what you want and go after it

Curiosity/Holy discontent: wanting to learn and know more, do better, go after the higher road

Generosity: use (money, time…) wisely so that you can give it away

Surrendered to God: would not do anything that would break the heart of God

Fighting Violence

Rachel Winzeler

IUPUI

“Fight!” One word sends everyone running.

Cold air fills the youth center as all the kids are sucked outside in the thrill of adrenaline. Phones come out of pockets, hoping to record it for show and tell tomorrow. The staff gathers the young kids back inside and someone calls the police. The fighters have 3-5 minutes before the lights will start flashing and everyone will scatter.

Time slows, and hot breath fills the cool night. Amy hands her two-month-old baby to her cousin and walks through the gate, eyeing Jewel. They walk up and Jewel lands two punches. Others rush to pull them apart, they continue to struggle to go at it again. Enough people are around to keep them apart for the moment, but then Jewel’s boyfriend spots Anthony, and round two has begun.

The young men pull off their coats, tossing hoodies to the side, shirts off and fists flying in the ice and snow. Everyone else seems frozen, but only for a second. Friends have called friends, and two teams are quickly divided—but as soon as punches are thrown, confusion reigns and it’s all about moving fast. Guys jump each other like hurdles, aiming for the epicenter. Someone is bleeding, and deep red drops fall to the concrete. Two kids in fetal position are getting kicked in the tangle of bodies.

The fence around the youth center is higher than the basketball goalposts it surrounds. Next to the door is a sign that says “Safe Haven.” Cars from Washington Street zip past the front of the building, watching the children play in the ball pit and swing on the swings. Next door, men at the homeless shelter gather for a smoke. What began as an average day at the afterschool program has turned into an all-out war that began with three words:

“30^th is weak.” Jewel spit her words in the direction of the light-skinned boy who sat across from her. At seventeen, she has fallen into many statistics, her stretched belly showing an April due date. These three little words start trouble. They call into question who you are, where you’re from, and where you are going.  

“30^th” is a street, called a “hood,” short for neighborhood. “Hood” is the socially acceptable terminology: not the “inner city,” that is too formal; not “the ghetto,” that is too derogatory. A hood is not a gang; it is where I reside, where I find my identity, where I will make the decisions that shape my life. If you call my hood weak, you call me weak.

Erin, who in her words “grew up at the center,” is the same age as Jewel. With dark eyes and beautiful braids, Erin has a quiet strength inside her as she walks the halls of her high school, determined to graduate and make something of her life. Words cannot hold her down, or make her do what she doesn’t want to do. She has recently moved from the hood to a nicer part of town, but holds fast to her roots.

In Erin’s words, “People say ‘you can take someone out of the hood, but you cannot take the hood out of someone.’ That’s because you can’t take the struggle out of someone who has been through the hood…anyone from the hood is always proud of where they came from—not that it is cute or appealing, but because it shows strength.”

A youth center staff member pulls up to the circle of kids formed around Jewel and Anthony: “Everything okay? ‘Cuz it doesn’t sound okay.”

The staff looks Jewel in the eye, and receives a hard look. Anthony won’t make eye contact. “You mettle too much.” someone mutters, and the worker tries to break the tension with a joke, a suggestion, an alternative of something to do rather than bicker. Sighs of resignation flow as kids shuffle to other areas of the center, some playing video games, others begin a game of pool.

Jewel was jumped by some girls on 30^th, and Anthony represents 30^th. While she is picking out cribs for her baby, the injustice still burns next to her desire to “be a better person” for her little girl. Seeing him at the center rekindled the fire she wished she could put to rest.

Erin has a different perspective on fighting: “I don’t fight. I have fought before, but it was in self-defense because I was attacked. That was the only time. I have better standards than to fight. I have better things to focus on and I don’t need violence to help me express myself.”

“I got your back.” Anthony hung up the phone after hearing the comforting words from his sister Amy.

He wouldn’t put his hands on a girl, but he wouldn’t let her get away with disrespecting him either. Amy would ride up to the center soon and take care of the situation. Anthony comes to the center to play X-box because he likes having a place to go after school other than home. He isn’t looking for trouble, but it often finds him. He isn’t going to let this little white girl rap to him, even if she is pregnant.

Erin came to the center for the same reasons, at first. “The youth center opened a big chapter in my life…I have plenty of friends I have known for several years now, and I bonded with God more…my grades improved because of tutorial. Of course, not everyone likes to cooperate with the lifetime guidance that the youth center has to offer…but it was a blessing to me to receive the help that the youth center had, with no cost and no strings attached.”

Family is important to Erin, but that doesn’t bring a reason to fight. “I was brought up the right way. I always had guidance from my grandparents. They wanted the best for me and my siblings and saw that even though we get in bad situations, we can always be better than we think.”

By the time he is eighteen, the average boy who walks through the purple doors of the center is ten times more likely to be in jail than his suburban counterpart. He is two times more likely to be unemployed, and eight times more likely to be killed by the age of 24 (“Young African American Men in the United States” 2006).

The average girl who comes is three times more likely to have a baby before she graduates high school, and two thirds will not complete school so that they can take care of their baby (Lowen, 2006). The children that come to the Center (ages 8-18) hold the highest statistics for contracting a STD, and becoming the victim of violent crime, rape, and drug abuse (“Statistics on Teens” n.d.).

“She called her baby daddy.” The whisper ran around the youth center, retracing the steps that had informed everyone that Anthony had called his sister. Jewel called her boyfriend, and the center grew fuller, heavier, deeper. 

“I don’t wanna fight, but I can’t let them punk me.” Jewel tells the staff member, who picked up the subtle clues that a fight is brewing. Anthony is non-responsive when a staff member asks if anything is going on. He shrugs his shoulders. The children around continue to laugh, some playing Pictionary on the chalkboard, some sitting at the computers, finishing up their homework.

Erin’s view is that the kids need better guidance. “Defending themselves with their hands and weapons, they think that is the best way to solve their issues. When all it really does is catch them a case. Violence is so high in the hood because hoodish people can come off the wrong way…and there are money problems…Some people fight for the enjoyment, some really need something, and some owe something…they feel like they have to fight for what’s theirs…They were mostly taught to fight for it or have it taken.”

 “Git in the car!” someone yells.

The fight has gone on for four minutes and the police will be here any moment. The fighting intensity cannot hold itself up for long, and the same wind that blew everyone outside now blows them all away as their car sputters to life, cranky at the disturbance. Jewel is ushered into the office, barefoot and shirt half torn off. She has someone’s blood smeared next to her eye. Her chest still heaving from the fight, she asks, “You think I should go to the hospital to check if the baby alright?” 

Fighting is a wildfire that doesn’t stop until it burns itself up, and then asks for more. Another fight breaks out on the bus before the night is over at the youth center.  A little kid who didn’t get a good view calls out “Who won?” Piece by piece the fights are put together and pulled apart again. Who hit whom. Who was it that won, really?

It will be whispered about on the bus, texted to relatives, and told in different forms all over the city. Braggers and swaggers will gloat. Sideliners will offer their adoration or depreciation, based on whom they thought was tough. New lines are drawn up, heroes are made, and losers hide away. Alliances are formed and deals are made. “You got my back?” is the new form of insurance from the dark fear of being jumped. Someone has been proved and someone has been broken. And everyone waits on the sidelines, predicting who will be next. 

“There is no hope for the hood.” Jewel tells the girls eating lunch with her.

She believes life has always been this way and always will be. But her daughter isn’t going to be fighting. “I will whip her butt. I wish things would change, but it has been this way for so long. I remember when one dude died and people stopped fighting a little.” Statistics have found their way to the youth center, where a fifteen-year-old man was shot and killed last year. Is that what it will take to stop the violence?

Answers are hard to come by. A staff voices their opinion: “Violence is high in the hood because people do not learn personal responsibility. A lack of personal responsibility generates a lack of care.”

A study done with inner city teens in Baltimore found a correlation between avoiding negative peer influences, focusing on the future, and religious involvement to more successful navigation away from violence (Weist, et al. 2000).

Whatever is the solution that separates the perspectives of Jewel and Erin, let it be found, bottled, and sold. The Good News Ministries youth center continues to open its doors, offer opportunities, and look for answers. Jewel will soon have a daughter, and fight the statistics against her. Amy will raise her son to stand up for his family, whatever the cost. Erin will graduate high school and continue toward her goals. And violence will continue to look for opportunities to fight in the hood.

Lowen, Linda. “Teen Pregnancy Statistics in the United States.” 2006. About. Com. 22 Feb.

 2010. http://womensissues.about.com/od/datingandsex/tp/Teenpregancy.htm

“Statistics on Teens” n.d. SoundVision. com 22 Feb. 2010.

 http://www.soundvision.com/info/teens/stat.asp

Weist, Mark. D, et al. “A Questionnaire to Measure Factors That Protect Youth Against Stressors

 of Inner-City Life” 2000. Psychiatric Services. 22 Feb. 2010.

 http://psychservices.psychiatryonline.org/cgi/content/full/51/8/1042

“Young African American Men in the United States” 2006. The Henry J. Kaiser Family

 Fountation. 22 Feb. 2010. http://www.kff.org/minorityhealth/upload/7541.pdf

Things have been going really well at the youth center. Like we are under a special dispensation of grace or something. Is someone new praying? Or somebody praying extra hard?

Or perhaps it is the weather? we had some lovely sunny days. Playing basketball outside. Beating all the lil boys. In a skirt.

Whatever it is, it is wonderful. I feel a satisfaction and fulfillment that is extra special. Girl’s Bible study was fantastic and really connected with all of the girls. Shamari gave his life to God. And no big fights at the center.

Family reunion. It is official: I have the best family.

I have to admit it. I am attaining smoothie-making-greatness.

Applying for fall scholarships. Keep your fingers crossed. Praise God note: I will be able to graduate in December. My advisor and I were able to figure things out (after previously told I needed an extra 12 credits).

3D movies are sweetness.

Next week I am going to California. Sunny, Sunny, Cali for great training and then great company with my aunt and uncle. Keep your fingers crossed that my lil nephew doesn’t make his debut until St.Patty’s day so I can be here for the action.

Someone anonymously gave me a card and some money at church.

It always gets me. I fall into a jumble of emotions that normally make me cry. It isn’t fun to cry with no tissues. I sorted out some of the feelings for you. The same has been true when so many other people have given…so I offer a large shout out THANK YOU. To the known and the unknown givers.

I feel loved: someone thought of me, someone noticed.

I feel excited: imagining what God is going to do with that money, the people it is going to touch and help. Money seems to go farther in Brasil.

I feel shocked: Why should they give? I am sure they had many other things they could have done with that money.

I feel unworthy: There are so many other people who need that money more than I do. So many who deserve it more.

I feel called out: I have a responsibility to now use that money wisely. To use my life wisely. Ouch–gosh darn it.

I feel believed in: it always gets me deep down somewhere that someone thinks I can do it–whatever God would have ”IT” to be.

I feel fake: good gracious–panic attack–they believe in me, and I fail so much, I fall so short.

I feel connected: I am not alone. There are people with me, serving God, loving God–Family. HOME.

I feel God: He grins and says “See? Told ya I’d take care of you.” And I sheepishly grin back.

***

I have the audacity to be surprised each and every time.

God takes the weirdest days and makes them into Christmas morning with presents.

Little me:

I learned to sing before I learned to talk

My first best friend was a dog and we dressed alike

I convinced my little sister that the stick of the lollypop was edible as well

I put my baby brother in the laundry basket so he could sleep next to me

I received the nickname “little monkey.”

I received the second highest award you can get in Girl Scouts

I organized and ran a booth at the Very Special Arts of Indiana when I was 12

I went bungee jumping when I was 13

I ran into the ski lodge while skiing. They sent me back to the bunny slopes.

I was camper of the week

I won the mud fight at camp ‘97

I helped build a house in Appalachia Kentucky

I ran a neighborhood girls baskeball team. We were called the “Pacer-ettes.”

I got my first article published when I was 14

I could beat all the younger neighborhood boys at basketball

I won “Best student” in voice lessons

I sang at the statehouse and recourded a CD with a children’s choir

I can draw invisible (blacklight) chalk pictures

I can bicycle with no hands

I modified a character curriculum to fit in an alternative school and taught inner city children when I was 16

I ride every rollercoaster

I got a black eye in Mississippi

I am a good whistler

I ran a day camp for girls

I graduated high school with honors

After high school:

I lived in a one room apartment with three juvenile delinquents

I taught the head housekeeper of a hotel how to make a bed

I worked at McDonalds for one day

I lived/worked with a Russian orphan who spoke no English and I no Russian

I got kudos for acting in a play

I worked/lived with/assisted my elderly grandparents

I  typed 70 WPM

I cut 25 people’s hair over 25 different ways

Youth center:

I have successfully driven an 15 passenger van with 17 children through a snowstorm and no tire traction

I got fuzzy slippers for Christmas from a gang banger

I have organized activities and conferences for hundreds of inner city children

I wrote and taught a course on making wise decisions

I wrote and implemented an anger management course

I organize, plan, and run an after-school tutorial program for inner city children

Random:

I taught myself to juggle using “juggling for dummies”

I donated 10 inches of hair to cancer patients. Twice

I piled all the kids I could into my station wagon and took them to the movies

I only each chocolate when it is covering pretzels

I have eaten turtle, buffalo, beaver, and ants

I have not eaten meat since 2008

I sing karaoke

I am a tree hugger

I laugh too loud, too often

I can roast the perfect marshmallow

I am the “spoons” champ

I get up to watch the sunrise

I gave coupons to nice people when I worked retail

I found rats in NYC

I prayed with strangers in Central Park

I sang “Amazing Grace” in the subway

I touched a piece of the Berlin wall

I kissed Mickey Mouse

I ate Jambalaya in the “Pirates of the Caribean” ride

I bicycled through the Everglades

I rode a bus through the Florida Keys

I rode in a sleigh

I didn’t go to prom until I was 24

I was thrice a bridesmaid, never a bride

I won my first and only boxing match

I play hard and have the bruises to prove it

I lived on $2 a day for a month

I fasted Ramadan

I can cook a good meal in thirty minutes or less

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

I have never been in debt

I fell in love. Twice.

I swam in the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans

I pushed my car out of a snow ditch. In a skirt.

I decorated walls with chalk, graffiti, markers, and pencils

Brasil:

I crochet

I wrote, practiced, and presented a Christmas play in a foreign language

I wrote and directed “Goldilocks and the Three Bears” for ESL speakers

I learned Portuguese without a dictionary

I (fearlessly) walked through a field of cows

I taught “Head, Shoulders, Knees, and Toes” to a bunch of random non-English speaking Brazilians

I won thumb war with a man who had the biggest thumb I have ever seen

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

I created an English curriculum to teach ESL in Brazil. Starting from scratch.

I attended a year of college where no one spoke English. And got straight “A”s

College:

I tested out of 30 credits

I am Phi Theta Kappa

I am on the Dean’s list

I won second place in the college poetry contest

I read the “Illiad”

I attended three colleges at once

Most proud of:

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

I have a blog. Since 2005

I write poems. Over 500

I have written multiple books

I have tutored children onto a better education for 11 years

I work to give a voice to those who do not have one

I can name children who’s lives I have been a part of and helped change

I strive to make the world a better place by sharing the love God spills into me

I try to live each day as if it were my last

I have no regrets