Lifeless Eyes

All I can think about is my friend Joel. At a party we were at, we were all shot at, and he was killed. Throughout the ordeal, I ran from the gunman, ran desperately to find Joel’s lifeless body, and hid under a bed fearing for my life as i heard continual shots from the simi-automatic AK-47. Out of it all, what bothers me still the most were Joel’s dead eyes. When I hovered over him in shock, he was lying on his back on the ground. His brother pulled up his shirt revealing three bullet holes, two fatal. Up his neck and face was his skin that had attained a purple/blue color. His open mouth was full of blood. And his eyes were wide open. 

Imagine...

I want you to think about your childhood. I want you to think about your life, as far back as you can remember until the day you graduated high school. What was it like? For me, I remember a lot of bad things. I remember how mean some of the girls in my private school were. I remember getting made fun of because I walked a little funny. I remember when all my friends had phones and I did not. Even now, so many of my friends have smart phones, but I do not. I have gotten jealous over so many things. I remember getting in fights with my parents because I could not go where I wanted with who I wanted when I wanted to go. I remember getting mad because I had to do certain things. I am being honest with you in this, and I think that is the way a lot of kids grow up. They have many of the same memories as me.

Now imagine a kid who has little to nothing. Their parents beat them and curse them. They sleep amid trash and debris. The end.

Recuerdo- I Remember (Memory)

For those of you who know me, you may have noticed the word "recuerdo" written on my wrist quite often. It is the Spanish word meaning "I remember" (or "memory"). I write that to remind myself to never forget. I get so caught up with my phases and obsessions, whether they be boys, poker, my hair, boys, theater, my work, or my most recent infatuation, The White Stripes (For the record, I had never really taken the time to listen to them until now, so yes, give me a few more weeks to be completely blown away.). While some things perhaps should be forgotten, or are just not worth remembering, there are things in particular that make me who I am. That sounds cliche, but these things truly shape my passions.


I remember Guatemala. It all started with a bag I bought there. It said "Recuerdo Guatemala," with two birds on the front. I bought it to remind me to remember the people there. Averaging an income per family of $4000 annually, I could just see the children at the Malnutrition Center's faces. I knew their names. I knew the kindness of their hearts. I could not allow myself to slip back into my day to day life and forget those people.


I remember Fernando. He was my dear Guatemalan friend. I knew him for about 4 years, and we had grown close when I lost him. When he was a part of my life, I was not the Christian I should have been. I should have stood in my faith, and in nothing else. As I move on with my life, I never want to lose the realization that there are so many people around me who will all be facing an eternity.

I remember Billy. He is a four year old who currently lives at the Malnutrition Center in Guatemala. He has won my heart. When things here get crazy, he brings me back to reality. The memory of that sweet baby boy reminds me how much bigger my life is than just me. I'm just meant to be the background of something bigger.


I remember middle school. That was one of the most painful times of my life. Now that I have faced all of those trials, however, I want to be there for other girls who have to go through them.


I remember mistakes.


I remember my God who loves me and takes me through it all.


I remember the plan God has for me. A lot of times I get caught up in the troubles of today, or tomorrow. It feels like the end. His plan for me to prosper and do something through His abilities is indescribably encouraging. I also struggle with remembering that His plan for my life is infinitely better than my own.

I remember clearly the words of a girl's response to a woman who helped rescue her out of slavery: "If what you say about God is true, why didn't you come sooner?"
If what I believe about God is true, how can I ever be silent? How can I ever not show His love to the world? God has taken me through these things to fuel me; these things give me passion.
I refuse to live life as if I plan on arriving at death safely.