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WHO CARES
My Testimony

--Columbine--

Well, anyone who has known me longer than eight years, knows I didn't really care about other people's pain or was very remorseful. I was not the type of person who gets teary-eyed over anything. I mostly saw other people as competition that got in the way of what I wanted. Any kind of sensitivity I had was lost over the many years of violent movies and TV shows I grew up watching. There was neither an ability to show compassion for others, nor an understanding of the consequences of violence. I had started going back to church in ’97, but I had a very shallow form of Christianity. I learned a lot and I believed it was all true, but I didn’t have a very close relationship with God. It would take the life of one girl to show me what being a real Christian was all about.

My junior year in high school was spent at Del City HS in the small suburb I've lived in for the last thirteen years. We originally lived in Oklahoma City and my old school was walking distance from our neighborhood. I had grown tired of my first school of eleven years and decided to try out the high school where I live. This 1998-1999 school year was spent on my own in a school I had only stepped into once before, and that was many times larger than my previous one. But nevertheless, it was a positive experience that I look back on very fondly. I did well there and I quickly got used to sharing the halls with well over a thousand other students. Towards the end of the school year in spring was the fourth anniversary of the Oklahoma City bombing. In first period, an announcer on the intercom asked for one hundred and sixty eight seconds of silence. The rest of that day was normal, but it was April 19th. One of those days that will always be marked as a day of tragedy. April 20th to me back then was just the first day after another April 19th. It was just another day, and I don’t even have a memory of what I did or what i wore. I just remember at the end of the day, getting off the bus and walking down my street on the sidewalk. It was cloudy, but warm. I came home at three o’clock as usual, turned on the TV and made a sandwich. Back then I would usually put it on MTV and watch the same videos on TRL. It would always be ‘N Sync or the Backstreet Boys fighting for number one. For some reason the mood was different today. Within a few minutes of watching, John Norris interrupted with a news update on ‘the school shooting’. I’ll never forget the sad look on his face. I remember thinking, ‘Whoa, a live school shooting’. I was always a sucker for live stuff on the news back then. Right then I just picked a news channel and started watching. It was then that I first saw the name Columbine High School and Littleton. I thought, ‘Columbine…sounds like the name of a flower’. A few years before I had met a girl during a family reunion who was from Aurora, and when I got back home checked out library books on Colorado. For some reason I don’t remember seeing Littleton. We were on AOL back then and I quickly turned on the computer to get updated on what was going on. One of the headlines mentioned a girl had been shot nine times in the chest, and I remember exclaiming out loud. I was pretty much hooked to the television set after that. But after my initial feelings, something really grabbed me while I was watching it unfold. Seeing people my age running for their lives, being escorted by SWAT really unnerved me. I watched in silence for a while until my dad came home and I left the TV on and went upstairs to my room.

The longer I watched, the more it all pulled me in. I remember the news briefings and the interviews of frantic and scared students by reporters. They kept saying that two students wearing black trench coats with semi-automatics, shotguns, and bombs went on a rampage. Officials said that the library was the scene of a total massacre with over thirty people dead. Eventually they posted the grainy black and white photos of the killers. Two seniors, Eric Harris and Dylan Klebold. Names I will never forget. Then all kinds of rumors started going around, mentioning how they were members of the Trench Coat Mafia. When I heard that name for the first time, I wondered what kind of school this was with a clique of students stalking the halls in black trench coats. In the beginning, nobody had a clear picture of what exactly happened. As the evening went on, gradually more information came in. All the hundreds of students, family, and parents massed around a nearby school waiting for buses to arrive with their children. Frantically checking lists upon lists of names taped on walls and windows to see if their loved ones were on them. Some of them were lucky and got to embrace their kids again. Others stayed until each bus came and left, hoping and waiting in vain. That night I remember watching students attend a vigil at a nearby church. They just sat there holding each other with sad faces, and some just crying. Something happened in me watching them. For the first time I can remember, I truly felt sorry for someone. I wished I could go there to do something for them but had no idea what. Just the feeling of complete helplessness. I continued to watch late into that first night.

The next day was pretty tough. What had happened the previous day was on everyone’s mind at school. Some people seemed to care, and others didn’t. I found the rest of that week very hard to keep focused on what I did in class. All I wanted to do was go home and watch the news. The next evening was the same. By this time there was a confirmed number of dead. Twelve students, one teacher, and the two gunmen. Finality set in and the hope that some had for their loved ones to come home vanished. The second night I remember Larry King interviewing a girl and her mother outside near a pine tree. They were some of the lucky ones. The girl just had this numb expression on her face, neither truly smiling nor crying. It had grown cold that night and both of them wore coats. As they talked, the very first snowflakes started floating from the sky.

What aired on Thursday morning was one of the most heart-wrenching interviews ever shown on television. This was the Today Show with Craig and Michael Shoels, sharing each other's experiences. Both them and Katie Couric were wearing coats outside. Looking behind them, the first thing that shocked me was the amount of snow that had fallen over night. The whole Denver area was blanketed in snow. As the first week came to a close, the effects of what I was experiencing began growing on me with each passing day.

On Saturday I watched along with millions of others the funeral of Rachel on CNN. Watching this was one of the most difficult things I have ever endured in my life. This was long before anyone had a clue of the plan God had been working on for the last seventeen years in her life, and to most people the only thing anyone could see and feel was just tremendous pain, grief, and numbness. As I watched friends of Rachel speak through tears, and saw the beautiful video with pictures of this amazing girl, I wondered if anyone would care that much about me if I died. Who was this person, to cause nearly three thousand people to pack the church she attended and give CNN their largest viewing audience in its history? I didn’t understand the feelings I had then, but I saw in her something I’ve always wanted in my life. That became even more apparent the more I learned about her and who she was. My Heart Will Go On played on a loop, and it reminded me of seeing Titanic for the first time only a few weeks earlier on HBO. At the end of the service, when Bruce Porter issued a challenge to young people and everyone watching to ‘pick up the torch’ that Rachel had carried and when people all over the congregation stood and symbolically raised their hand, I also stood in my room that day and in my heart agreed to pick up the torch she had carried.

Sunday was another major event in Littleton, for the first memorial service. Over seventy thousand people of all ages and appearances packed a mall parking lot near the school, under a weeping slate gray sky that was so fitting for everyone’s mood that day. People flooding in hours in advance. With an utterly silent crowd, students Jonathan and Stephen Cohen opened the memorial service with Friend of Mine. Amy Grant and Michael W. Smith performed after them. At one point a group of four fighter jets soared overhead in a tight pattern called the ‘missing man’ formation, among them a 1986 Columbine graduate and captain with the Colorado Air National Guard. As they flew overhead his jet peeled away from the others in a salute to the victims. Franklin Graham and Gov. Bill Owens were also speakers. As the governor spoke and bagpipes played Amazing Grace, thirteen doves were released as he spoke the names of the students and teacher who were killed. All of this was yet another powerful and incredibly hard thing for me to watch. When it finally concluded, and the news network went to a break I turned the television off. The weight on my heart over this long and difficult week was finally too much for me. As I looked out my window at the same gray, sad sky, I broke down and cried for the first time in many years. Losing track of the time, I just wept until I couldn’t any longer. Now imagine how far I had come in just five days. God knew exactly what it would take to get my attention, and used the tragedy at Columbine to totally break me and bring me to my knees. Columbine completely devastated me unlike anything in my entire life. This was not something I chose to happen to me, but was entirely God working in my life and chartered by Him. That is important for people to understand. But this was just the beginning of what He was trying to get me to learn.

Not very long after the shooting, I was watching the news as usual. The coverage of the shooting was the only thing I cared to watch anymore. A man on the news was talking about Rachel and a picture of her was on the screen. There was this strange desire to learn more about her that I couldn’t understand then. Something inside me was just drawn to her. I printed out a list from the internet of the victims who died, with pictures and brief descriptions of who they were. Particularly the one on Rachel was what I wanted to read. I wondered if there were any websites on her yet, so I searched around and found nothing. Within a few days of looking, an official website on Rachel appeared online. I felt so happy when I found this site, which already had many thousands of hits. It was just a simple website, but it meant so much to me just because it was about her. I still have the printed pages from seven years ago, showing slight changes to the design, or with different size pictures. Over the weeks and months after Columbine, I wanted to know everything I possibly could about the event that had such an impact on me as well as Rachel and her incredible life. I searched for every website and read anything I could find on the shooting and Rachel Joy, but I will agree that what I learned about Rachel has touched me much more than anything else. Later that year was when Rachel’s Tears was published. I knew this book would be incredibly hard for me to read, but I knew it was something that I had to do. When I brought the book home, I just started reading a few pages at a time. It was one of the most difficult books I have ever tried to read. I could only read a few pages, then stop and try to take it all in. Stand up, pace around a while and think, then sit down again and try to read more. A lot of what was in the book was even new to me, and it was after this first book that I had any idea of the depth there was behind all this. Through all the pain and sorrow there was something more, a bigger plan God was intending for me to see.

In the years following Columbine, I have grieved and shed innumerable tears for someone I have never even met. The depth of the pain I feel, only others who share my experience can understand. If I had the capability, I could easily write a book on my experience and all the knowledge I have on this subject. No matter how hard I try, my words never seem adequate enough. But for anyone to know where I am at today, they must have some idea of what I’ve gone through for over seven years, and a true understanding of the life of a certain young woman. God used someone my age to show me how this life should be lived and what He wants me to be like. And for someone like me, it is so hard to believe I can ever achieve what she did in life, and have what she had. What always struck me about her, and what I eventually learned more about, was the total sense of purpose and meaning in her life. From her childhood all the way to her final moments. It’s just the most incredible and beautiful thing I have ever seen. Interestingly, I even discovered that our birthdays always fall on the same day of the week, going all the way back forever I guess. And I am so happy for her and what she has now. But along with my joy for her, is also the great amount of pain I feel about my own life and how it has always seemed so meaningless to me. My life is the complete opposite of hers in every way. I will be honest and say I have struggled with depression for a long time. Sometimes I want to fall asleep and never wake up the next day. The terrible weaknesses that I have, have caused sin to ruin my life and what relationship I had with God. It seems like I’ve made God turn His back on me and not want to have anything to do with my life. I often feel like someone who has lived many times my age. It’s a backwards, confusing mess to say the least. There are a lot of hurdles to overcome just to be open enough to tell someone the truth. I probably have more to get over than most people. But this is who I am, and what I’m about. Carrying the burden of this alone for years, and being such a big part of my life, it's something that needs to be shared with others even if it is difficult for me to get across to someone because of my communication skills. I am tired of appearing as such a shallow and emotionless person and want people to know there is more to me than what it may appear.

--The years before Columbine--

My life continued as it always had been, until an ordinary summer day in '97 shortly after my Freshman year ended. Nothing at all warned me of what was about to come, and it seemingly just came out of nowhere. I began to have these overwhelming feelings of anxiety and fear that would wash over me and completely take over my thoughts and my life. To this day, I don't know what caused it but it set me on a path towards the deepest depression and near madness I've ever experienced. For the period of about three months, every waking moment was sheer torment, being afraid of anything and everything I could think of. Fear of death, the unknown, and all the things that might happen to me. Afraid of getting some incurable illness from eating undercooked food, fear of going outside and getting bitten by a mosquito carrying some disease, fear of anything you can imagine. Staying up all night watching infomercials on tv, then sleeping all day so I wouldn't have to deal with the fears. It was the only way I could keep myself functioning. Almost considered going on an all fruit diet, because I was just convinced I'd get e. coli from Burger King or any meat that I ate. Feeling like I could die from anything, at any moment. It got to the point where I just about quit eating altogether. Nobody knew I was going through this, that I was about to lose my mind. This is where I totally understand what Craig Scott was going through, being completely out of the loop of everyday normal life. Like going insane, and not being able to stand being up during the day. Being happy that I survived another long, insane night. Just losing my grip on reality. I thought for a long time, what I could possibly do to get out of this madness. The only thing I could think of was God and all the things I had hated so much and despised. I was so ignorant and backwards back then. My whole world view and life was just a figment, a house of cards waiting to fall. All it took was this stuff to totally crumble them, and I had nothing to fall back on. No faith in anything.

So to my amazement, I started watching Christian programming. The stuff I hatefully scoffed at and hurriedly flipped past while watching television. These pathetic jokers and their fake, weak religion. Their holier-than-thou lifestyles, and their silly and boring beliefs. Like a tug boat ark full of all the animals that ever lived. Right, sure. All this stuff they use to control people; hell, fire and brimstone to scare people to believe how they want. Science is the truth and explains everything, that we're all just a bunch of animals. But aliens, man, for sure they were very real. Any kind of belief that wasn't causing me feelings of guilt was truth to me. The only Christian influence I ever had in my life, were my grandparents. They brought me to Sunday school, and put me in their small church. But even then, after growing up the way my parents lived and that atmosphere, I rejected it even back then. I'd squirm and try to sleep through the long, boring preaching of their pastor. Think of how silly all this Jesus stuff is. So boring compared to the secular things I was fed from my birth, all the things kids were bombarded with during the 80's. So finally when I got a little older, I just quit going with them completely and walked away from it. I felt so liberated, foolishly. I didn't have them calling me and asking to go to church anymore. I knew in my heart, there was just guilt. As the years went by, the hatred grew along with the emptiness and longing that I didn't realize was there. The more I fed myself with hateful music, movies and everything else like that, I became more and more unremorseful and uncaring. Seeing people blown away and killed on television made me think it was all a joke. Life is so cheap, and blood and death is cool. Getting older, and into high school, I was just like any other person my age. Trying to fit in anywhere, and do anything to be accepted. Being as course in language, and manner as it took. This is the old me that I want you to know once existed, and still does in some ways. This is one of the hardest things for me to accept out of Columbine. I was a lot like Eric and Dylan were once in my life. The fact is, they most likely would have been my friends had I known them. We had the same interests, and the same anger and hatred. I remember the first time I read Eric's rantings, [ http://www.acolumbinesite.com/wisdom2.html ] - it sounded so much like me it made me laugh. I hated the same things he did, and the little frustrations in life made me want to just murder people, just for walking too slow in front of me for example. I wonder if I had ever eroded to the point where I could shoot people in the head and laugh about it. I just don't know, it's possible. Never was exposed to real guns, thank God. But here is one key thing I want you to understand. I have to live with the fact that someone I used to be just like, is the one who murdered Rachel. And probably got tremendous joy out of taking her life. This goodie little weak, Christian 'whore' that was at the bottom of the evolutionary ladder in Eric's eyes. I'm the godlike force of reason, destroying you and your weak religion. What I am trying to say here is very difficult to put into words. Do you see now where God has taken me from? How because of Him, I now can speak from both sides of this spectrum? The me you know is a blend of the old (Eric) and the new that God has created in me, the things I saw in Rachel. If you can combine both of these sides together, you'll have a fairly good expression of who I am today. It's kind of like two sides of me, that fight with each other and I have to manage them both. No matter how hard I try to go in the right direction towards my greatest hopes, there's always that dark shadow of the past, that's so real because it's me. It's not somebody else I can point a finger at, but it's the other me that once existed. I hope I didn't use too many words to get that point across, but I just want you to get that. In a way, it makes the pain I feel even greater. The more I learned about Eric and Rachel, the more it shined a light on the person I am. Almost like I had killed her. Maybe now you get a fuller scope of what Columbine is to me and how I see Rachel. I really hope so.

So I am not sure when exactly I became 'saved'. Was it one of the many times I said weak prayers lead by some tv evangelist? It's all just a blur of memories. I do know when I accepted Christianity, a huge weight was lifted from my shoulders, like a friend of mine Charlotte talked about in her testimony. Maybe it was all just in my head. But I didn't have the fears anymore, and the craziness went away. I remember the day I called my grandparents, instead of them calling me, asking if I could join them for church. I kind of think they prayed for me, and God sent this on my life to bring me to Himself. But it's been such a slow journey. My faith then was so tiny, I question my own salvation at that point. This was still a few years before Columbine. Those years, there was no fire or none of the passion I feel in my heart that was put there by Rachel's example and her story. I'd get out of the car, and hide the bible in my hand for fear that people would see me with it. Didn't care for worship, or the singing. It was more like I was trying it out, then I had really met God. I'd give anything to be one of the folks who can remember the day they accepted Jesus forever. But I don't have a memory like that.

Coming back to school, starting the '97-'98 school year, sophomore year, I was a different person. Not only on the inside, but certainly the outside. People I knew were shocked at what I looked like. Before that summer, I was a disgusting fatbody who wore glasses. This new me was a skinny pole. Friends were asking me if I had started doing crack. I had been basically fat for a lot of my life, and nerdy. I had lost so much weight, that I don't recall exactly how much. Around this time, according to my fuzzy memories and yearbook picture, is when I started wearing contact lenses as well. So when you look at the freshman and sophomore year books, it's like two different people. Fortunately ever since then, I've kept off that weight and been fairly thin ever since.

So all of this to tell you what flashed through my mind, thinking back on 1997 in this nostalgic mood. It also reminds me of a rarely seen picture of Rachel I found on a website many years ago, shortly after Columbine. It added to the nostalgia or whatever word you want to call it. I also looked through my '98-'99 junior yearbook from Del City HS. Every memory from that year, will always be linked to Rachel and Columbine. No matter how hard I try to combine my memories of that period of my life, I can't imagine Rachel being alive in it. She's always been like, beyond life to me, since she never was before she died. Maybe that seems very strange to you, but these are feelings that I don't know the origin of. I guess you can just say, once in a while, I try to use my memories as a time machine, since that's all I have, to imagine the world before Columbine and before anyone knew who she was, and with my current mind, go back to those places. I guess everyone has done that at some point. I'd give all my money just to remember what I wore that day, or what I worked on in painting class in third period. All the events that happened that day, were all contained within that one period. It's all so deeply personal and precious to me, that it would be something real to hold onto. I still have the clothes I wore then, that I will probably keep forever. Maybe that sounds strange.

--Years after Columbine--

I feel lead to share these stories, since one involves Rachel, and both are from a time I really felt God was interested or involved in my life. It's basically how I was directed to my church, First Southern Baptist, where I have been attending for almost six years now. I originally typed this for the old student minister, Shannon O'Dell, who was lead by God to a tiny church in his home state of Arkansas, after being the pillar of the student ministry at First Southern for many years. I felt God wanted me to share with him my testimony I have also shared with you for the same reason, that I felt I owed it to him and to also glorify God. This was another part of my testimony that I left out, since it would have been a little too much to read together, and all at one time. I actually gave this to Shannon in 2002 at the annual Christmas party we would have at his house, with the entire college ministry. Along with it, I bought copies of Rachel's books and a copy of a Columbine cd I made. I presented it to him in a blue gift bag that I left near his door that night, hoping that all that time wasn't wasted, or he wouldn't understand it or care very much. It wasn't two months later, that he left the church and I haven't seen him since. So it's either my horrible timing, or God's plan, whichever way you want to look at it.

So one night, over a year after Columbine in 2000, I was on the computer and I suddenly get a message from a total stranger. In this instant message this person tells me that Darrell Scott will be speaking at Del City High School at something called the Starlite Crusade on Friday evening June the 30th. At that moment, ten different emotions hit me all at once. I’m thinking, ‘Thank you so much for telling me this, who are you, how did you know to tell me this, and why did you tell me’. I can’t even remember my first response. I was just so totally floored that I was almost speechless. When I saw the name ‘Starlite’, I dredged up a mental file from years ago. Several years before, I was going through mail and noticed a paper on an event happening at Del City High School called Starlite Crusade. I sort of scoffed at it, because it was church stuff. But what surprised me were the celebrities who would be there like famous football players and singers. Nevertheless I just tossed the paper out with the rest of the junk mail. One of the things I couldn’t believe was that Darrell Scott would speak at the high school I attended when the shooting took place. How completely surreal was that? But after Bill Clinton came to Del City after the tornados, nothing surprised me anymore. The most amazing thing about this, was that I would have completely missed him speak if it were not for this person telling me. I had even been to Darrell’s Columbine Redemption website and knew he listed the places he would be speaking. One of the first things I did was check the site again and there was Del City right there. Only someone like me would miss something like that, but I guess God wanted me there. I eventually asked this person who they were and it was a girl named Heather. I thanked her greatly, and told her I hoped to see her there. I found out the reason she sent me that message, was because she happened to see my AOL profile on the member directory and I had mentioned Rachel on it. I never had a profile before Columbine and after my experience, felt compelled to create one.

Several days later Friday evening came along. I had someone drop me off at the front of the school. Over a year had passed since I had stepped foot on that campus. I knew where Eagle Stadium was so I started walking to the back parking lot. One of the first things I noticed walking toward the stadium was a guy standing with a guitar surrounded by a crowd of teenagers sitting off to the side. I had no idea what I was supposed to do, so I just walked over and sat down on the curb next to them. I guess I thought it had something to do with Darrell Scott speaking. I didn’t recognize any of them, including the dude playing the guitar and none of them really noticed me come over. They all just sat there with sad expressions, listening to him play. I was right, when guitar guy mentioned how it was a special night, and how Darrell would be speaking about his daughter Rachel. As I sat and listened to his music I looked across the parking lot at all the people just walking into the stadium and taking seats. At that moment I really felt stupid sitting there with all these strangers. Guitar guy finished the music with a prayer, and everyone got up and started walking toward the stadium. I was in a hurry to get a seat after seemingly wasting my time, but as I hurried off I’ll never forget what happened next. As I’m walking away a girl comes up to me with this big smile and asks me what my name is, putting her hand out to shake my hand. I could hardly get words out of my mouth when she did that because nobody had ever shown that kind of kindness towards me before. She must have noticed me come over and sit with them. I gladly shook her hand and told her my name and she did the same. But instead of staying and getting to know her, I just kept on walking by myself and left her and the rest of them.

When I walked in someone handed me a pamphlet with the night’s events on it that I still have to this day. That whole night was given to Darrell to speak. As I briefly looked over this paper, I saw the name First Southern Baptist Church. For some reason I thought it was a church in Midwest City, another suburb. Most people sat in the stadium seats, while others sat on chairs or on the grass in front of a stage on the field. Shortly after finding a seat by myself, the service started with songs and music with a guy on a microphone leading it. A lot of the songs they played were new to me, like Shout To the Lord and others. When the worship part of the service was finished, the pastor of the church who does Starlite spoke briefly before giving the rest of the service over to Darrell. From then on I was totally focused on Darrell and what he had to say. Everything else seemed to fade away as I listened to his words. It was hard to believe I was actually seeing with my own eyes, the man who’s daughter had touched my life so much. I already knew much of what he said that night, and he had a sense of humor. But I couldn’t help think how lucky I was to be sitting there. At the end of his emotional speech, he asked if anyone would accept Christ, and quite a lot came and stood in front of him. When they finished praying, that crowd followed Darrell away so he could minister more with them. That was the last I ever saw of him. When Starlite concluded, I waited for what seemed like forever for my ride. A nice guy came over while I was sitting on a post and talked to me for a few minutes. He must have thought I looked ‘lost’, so he gave me a little book on how to get saved. The ride home was short but the whole way back I thought about all that happened and what it was supposed to mean. Sadly, when I thought of the girl who shook my hand, I couldn’t remember her name no matter how hard I tried. On one of the last two nights of Starlite, I finally met Heather and a friend of hers. She was a nice person, but I lost contact with her after she moved to California. I don’t know if she ever knew how much her simple message to a stranger became one of the most unforgettable moments of my life.

--Coming to First Southern--

Over the next few months, I really began to feel incredibly lonely after graduation. To be honest, my life has seemed so directionless that I hoped that I died after completing school because I had no clue what I was going to do. I was now living in a time that always scared me to think about. I was also thinking about Rachel and the kind of church youth activities she was a part of. Here I am at almost nineteen, and have never been involved in a youth group at church, much less even gone to a church that was nearly large enough for one. These things were daily on my mind. So one day I was at my best friend Dave’s house with another guy named Troy and we decided to go fishing at a nearby lake and hang around there. I didn’t have a license to fish or equipment so I just tagged along. It was early evening and we went south in Dave’s truck, with his heavy metal music blaring until we came to an old convenience store out in the country. We got food to eat, and they got some bait. When we got to the docks, all we did was joke around all night and remember the crazy people we knew from over a decade we were in school together. I think they caught a few tiny catfish, but nobody really cared. We had the whole place to ourselves until these huge country guys came to our dock. It was late at night before we finally decided to leave. On the way back we drove north on Sooner Road. I remember seeing this gigantic building on the right side of the street that I had never noticed before. It was so huge, with big spotlights shining on it with three giant metal crosses on its roof. I knew it must be a church and as we got closer, it said First Southern Baptist Church on the sign. So this is the church that got Darrell to speak at Del City High School and does Starlite Crusade? And it’s ten minutes from my house? Naturally, this doesn't surprise me at all. The rest is pretty much history that probably wouldn't interest you much, since that's the end of the Rachel/Columbine part of the story. I think it was the next day I looked up the church's information on the internet, since I knew a church that huge must have one. I looked into, and read everything I could find, especially information on the student ministry pages. There were pictures from a recent mission to South Dakota and a visit to Mount Rushmore. It looked like an awesome church, and I knew God was telling me here is my answer. So to demystify the whole thing, I decided to just go there, and walked through the doors for the first time in late November 2000. It's funny, when I think back to these pictures, and the people I eventually met and some that I still know today. It's just a whole can of worms that I can't discuss here. But I will briefly tell you of my first mission trip after joining First Southern.

The Salt Lake City Mission of 2001, one of the best experiences of my life, only recently being eclipsed by my future visit to Colorado. About four months after stepping foot into FSB, here I was with this opportunity to visit Colorado for the first time, and actually see my first mountains on the way to Utah. We were to stop halfway and spend one night in Englewood, before leaving again the next morning. Now this whole trip I could easily spend hours typing this much just on this, so obviously I won't. But I remember printing out these two little maps from Yahoo!, of where Rachel was buried and the AmeriSuites we would be staying at. You know, just fantasizing about ditching everyone and having my own personal time in the state, like I only imagined for years. I knew that wouldn't be possible, but I just accepted it and was thankful to be so close anyway. Well the weather was decent, visibility wise, since it was overcast and snow covered being as it was March. We messed around and ate out in Colorado Springs and tried to see Garden of the Gods, which was fairly lame, with snow all over everything. As it got darker, we finally arrived at AmeriSuites around eleven o'clock and unpacked the charter bus as huge snow flakes started falling, got room arrangements for everyone and all that. Most of us were too tired to mess around much, and we all crashed after a short while. This was a decent group of people, around fifty I'm guessing. Well the next morning we awoke to a blizzard outside. It was very bright white, with a fog that caused practically no visibility whatsoever. So basically, from then on, I never actually saw anything of Colorado or Denver. On the highway, you could just barely make out Mile High Stadium through the fog, that's how bad it was. Now coming back home, it was a different story. We did an all-nighter straight from Salt Lake to OKC, driving through the same path in Colorado, this time in the middle of the night. We stopped early in the morning, briefly at some gas station in the middle of nowhere but that was it. So that was a big disappointment for me. All I could do was hope, and put faith in God that maybe someday I'd get to return. Well, I did of course. God had an even greater plan that I just had to have faith for.

--Return to Colorado--

In late June, 2004, God answered a prayer I had for the past five years. He allowed me to be a part of something I'll always remember. Once a year, Mike Santos would drive to Colorado and spend time there with friends he knew and reflect on his own experience with Columbine. The past few times, I had pitched to him the idea of us both going up there and seeing if that would work. He told me that he prefers to go alone and I could totally understand that. But this year it was going to be different. I heard that Michael Tamburello, who I hadn't met yet at that point, had a big deal planned this year and it involved staying up in the mountains and taking a boat out on the lake, among other things. I really felt that this was my chance, so I emailed Michael for the first time about who I was and my interest in going. Keep in mind, that he didn't know me at all. I heard so much about him from Mike and his trips, that I felt like I did. Michael already had people ready to go and he was flying a few of them into town just for it. So me coming would be one extra person tagging alone. But he was completely cool with it. He could easily have said that he didn't know me or just didn't want me along. But that's not how Michael is at all. This was all at the very last minute too. But he agreed, and I was so happy that this was going to happen. I hardly have things like this I can look forward to and be excited about. Within a very short amount of time, the waiting was over. And I was ready.

Well I made it to Colorado in a little over ten hours, only getting lost a few times on the way there. But once in the city, regardless of these maps I printed, I was still totally lost when I got there. I had to ask directions a few times, but once I found the street that my motel is located by, it was easy from there. That first day, I don't know how I managed to function the whole time. First thing I did once I got the motel business done, was call Mike Santos and tell him I made it, then tried to get a few hours sleep. I maybe only got two or three, since I was so pumped with adrenaline, and anticipation on meeting him at Michael Tamburello's house. I found his place without a lot of difficulty, and it was memorable meeting them both for the first time. Michael is a crazy guy, really a character. Mike on the other hand is a little more like me. There's a no-shoes policy at Michael's house, with his near white carpet, and it's very well kept and expensive. Luckily I made it in time to go along with Michael's tour of Golden and the Coors headquarters there. He also took us inside CDOT where he works and showed us around. It felt pretty cool getting inside somewhere that has so much security, with him punching in codes and unlocking doors. CDOT is so extensive and complicated, with a room like you would see at NASA with every city camera monitoring traffic. By the end of that day, I had been up for almost twenty four hours, since I got up to leave home until I finally went to sleep early that first morning. The next day we were to leave for Dillon. I was up early, and I drove to Chapel Hill Cemetery where Rachel is buried for the first time. I was here... I actually made it after waiting so long for this to happen. I was living the moment I had imagined in my mind for so long. As most of the visit was, the time I spent there was just too much to take all at once and almost beyond my writing ability to share with you. It would just take me all day or more, and even then it wouldn't be close enough. I didn't stay there long, but did plenty of crying that was raw emotion. I don't know if you can understand any of what I'm saying, but I still want to share it regardless.

Too bad I never wrote down every single thing I did each day, because now it's all a blur. The stay in Dillon was really awesome. Most of the first few days consisted of me putting every bit of driving skill and concentration on keeping behind Michael while driving 80mph up and down the very mountainous I-70 West straight through the Rockies, and following him everywhere. It was pretty nerve-wracking, but added to the experience, not knowing if you might fly off a cliff at the slightest error in judgment, or just exhaustion. Charlotte was late leaving, so we all pulled over in the rain and waited for her to catch up to us. When we finally arrived, we stopped at the lodging office so Michael could check us in and do the paperwork. That's when I first got to met Charlotte in person. Our condos in Dillon were really nice. There were two floors and it was just like a house, with a kitchen, fireplace, bathrooms, and two nice balconies. We still did a few things with the rest of the day, like they all went and found the jacuzzi later on while I spent that time at the condo spending the time to myself. I really enjoyed that a lot. And that night we went into town and ate. The next morning, I got up early and had some more quiet time to myself. Just spending time alone out on the balcony and watch all the life right outside in the forest is a priceless experience. After that I got out my camera and took a walk around outside. After everyone had finally woken up, we packed all our stuff and headed for the lake. The boat ride on the lake didn't work out, since we got out there and it was just a dark, looming mass of rain coming straight for us. The pontoon boat we rented did about -3 knots. So we got completely drenched, or at least me, Craig Scott and Dale did at the front of the boat without a canopy. When we got back, they gave us our money back. Michael didn't want that day to be a waste, so we (in three separate vehicles) followed him further west until we got to Vail. We left Charlotte and Mike's vehicles there so it was less cars to keep up with. Mike's old truck couldn't make it in the mountains anyway. We had to lose some time by driving slow enough for him to keep up. From there is was all the way to Glenwood Springs, which us out-of-towners didn't know was like 60 more miles from Dillon. I was so tired from driving already, and I wasn't sure if I could do this, but somehow managed it. Glenwood Springs was totally worth the drive, through the most wild, mountain highway driving I had done up to that point. Words can't describe it, and I really wish I wasn't doing all the driving, because there wasn't much time to enjoy the scenery. I could spend so much time detailing every little thing, for every day, but it would take way too long. Anyway, our stay here consisted of a thousand foot hike straight up a mountain, with a 'hanging lake' at the top that was so worth the grueling journey up. It was basically a river that shoots straight from a cliff face, down into a little pond, and then down the mountain in a waterfall. So, as that long day drew to an end, it was time for the 200+ mile drive back into town. This was the worst of all for me, after stopping in Vail I think, one of the guys that rode with me was ticked off because he was promised to be back so he could work that night, so we left the others early, and it was a long, crazy drive in the dark back to Denver. The other guys all drove their own cars back and we shared this similar experience, of passing through a little rain storm in the pitch dark at one point, with almost no painted lines visible to keep you on the road, and feeling like you were going to die at any moment. After what seemed like eternity, my group made it back to Michael's place first, and I dropped off my riders, and I finally made it back to my motel. My ears popped like crazy and I lost some of my hearing as I usually do when that happens. That was probably the hardest thing I had to do during the whole visit. After we got back, I felt like my vacation really started.

The rest of my time there was a lot more laid back and enjoyable. We got back way late on Saturday, and Sunday was one of my most memorable days. Me and Mike visited Trinity Christian Center, which was one of Rachel's churches, down the street from Columbine and the Subway she used to work. We were about thirty minutes early, so we drove into Columbine's parking lot and I got to see the school for the first time with my own eyes. The west side of the school seemed so much smaller than in pictures, and it was all just too much to absorb at once. We didn't stay there long and got back to TCC. It's just a little church, just one big building more like a warehouse, with no floors. It has a great, small congregation feel to it. It just felt so incredible being in the same footsteps that she walked, and me thinking every single moment that I never imagined I'd be doing this. We met up with Charlotte Wilkinson, who works in daycare, after the service was over, and we took the very short trip to Rachel's Subway, and ate there. Sitting at a table eating, I thought of Rachel's story she wrote for school called Gloves of Conviction, that was about an ordinary day making sandwiches there, when a homeless lady walked through the door and sat down. If you want to know the rest of that story, you should read a copy of Rachel's Tears. But maybe you can imagine what I mean, when we visited places we all knew about, and the fact that you are in the same place she once was. I don't know if you can understand that, since for us she had such a life-changing, divinely directed impact on our lives, and to be in the places that were a part of her life. The inside of the Subway has been changed, or possibly re-modeled since '99, mainly after two workers were found murdered some time later that year I believe. But we still tried to imagine the homeless lady walking in, and wondering what door it was, or what seat. After that, was the most memorable part of that day. We drove down the street from there to Columbine and parked at Clement Park behind the school. Now everything we did there for me, was a first time experience. So it was the most profound and moving for me. We got out and walked over to Rebel Hill and just talking about related things. We gradually made our way to Columbine, then to the new west entrance that had been remodeled. And I finally walked on that same ground for the first time, after all those years, I'm there. Me and Charlotte discussed the details of what happened there, and she was impressed on how much I knew about it. They were both used to it already, Charlotte living in the area for years now, and this being Mike's third visit. I struggle to put into words how I was feeling throughout that whole day, and actually touching the glass of the cafeteria window, and just being there. There's no way for me to write it all down. You go there, and the school just seems so foreboding to me, like it doesn't want you there. To me at least. I was so glad to have my friends there with me, people who knew what I had been through and knew my experience because it was like their own. People from all over the country, who God used what happened in those very spots and one girl's life to change our lives forever. It was a dark, overcast day then, and the same dark blue mists of rain finally made its way to us. It began raining, and we stood closer to the cafeteria, by the door, while the girders on the new facade somehow kept us dry. Charlotte joked to Rachel out loud about making it rain on us. Of all the wonderful things I was a part of, I would have to say that day was the second best of all.

All I can really get into are the highlights of my trip, since I could literally spent days covering every single aspect of every thing I did, and be totally exhausted in the end, if I could even do it at all. I'm just not skilled enough as a writer to do it, and it would be the size of a book, with whole chapters. I really enjoyed every single day of my stay there, being able to truly live for once, with my life back and away from my job that steals so much of it. The effects that work have on me weren't there, like being irritable, frustrated, and short tempered.
Other great moments consisted of me and Mike visiting Golden again and Lookout Mountain and Buffalo Bill's grave. Buying flowers for Cassie and spending time at her grave. Getting to meet Valerie Haile, a friend of Rachel's. Spending time at Rachel's grave with Mike, Nina, and Valerie, listening to priceless stories from Valerie about Rachel. Going to see The Day After Tomorrow and Spiderman 2. The more I think, I can remember even more. Having a party at Michael's brother's loft in downtown Denver, and watching fireworks from his balconies, with a perfect view of the skyline. His brother is like a millionaire, who built that five story loft himself, and is working on building others in that old Italian neighborhood, and revitalizing it. On every floor in his loft, there are unique art collections from a variety of people, ranging from all types. The design of the building is sort of industrial, with concrete floors and visible air ducts on the ceiling. The outside is really ordinary, and doesn't stand out a lot. After the party Michael drove us to downtown Denver and we walked around. It was around 1am and there was hardly anyone around. We passed one area where there were a lot of party people and cops everywhere. But it was cool being in a real city. Michael took us to The Brown Palace Hotel, which is the 2nd oldest hotel in Denver. This place is amazing. It's so old and filled with a sense of history. The entrance has these art deco murals on the walls and it makes you feel like you're going back in time. We just walked around and took the elevator to the highest floor. Nobody bothered us since it was late at night. The carpet on the floor has this pattern that can make you dizzy, and looking over the balcony high up gave me vertigo. I had my camera but I left it in Michael's car. Sometimes it's just easier to leave the camera alone.

We found a Taco Bell that was actually open and ate a bite. We weren't far from the lightrail station. I saw one homeless person sleeping on a bench. It's eerie being in such a large downtown with no one else around.

The most defining moment from the entire experience was after the Fourth of July celebrations, and just hours before I left town. I was allowed the privilege to actually view and touch some of Rachel's own journals and personal belongings. To see with my own eyes, the tears she drew in her final journal entry shortly before she died, see the black lace dress she wore in The Smoke In the Room, wear one of the metal cross chains she wore, touch through a plastic bag a bullet-pierced page from one of her journals contained in her backpack that had passed through her body. No matter how some might place her on a pedestal, she was just a normal person, no different than me. Facing the same fears and doubts, but had the faith in God to do great things in her life. All the pain and hurt God opened up in me for her over five years, someone I never even knew, it was so healing for me to actually share that personally in the presence of her dear possessions, almost as if she were there in person. To me and to all in this small group of friends, these items are the closest we'll ever be to her. There's just no way I can put those feelings into adequate words. It was far too much for me to even absorb all at once, and I still can't even today. I don't want you to think it didn't mean the world to me, there just isn't an expression or appearance for how I was feeling. All I could do is just stand there beyond awe. I could barely even speak, or open my mouth. How is a person to react to something like that? It's hard to share how you feel, being in the presence of the person's life that impacted you so much. And even that doesn't scratch the surface. For me, I have never felt that close to her, even in the moments of weeping and mourning in prayers over all the years. Touching the bullet scared paper, and wearing her chain...you see, both of us were almost living the same life up until her death. We could relate to each other had we ever met. She's a part of my generation. And reading her journals about her darkest moments, you might not realize it but it was God speaking to me. It's Him showing me that the seemingly impossible goal she completed in her life, isn’t that impossible. Her words to God sounded so much like my words, as if you were reading from my heart and not hers. As pathetic and worthless as I see my own life, she had the same moments and knew the same pain. And that was so encouraging. I never imagined in my wildest dreams, that an opportunity like that would be granted for someone like me. I don't know how many times I've prayed the prayer, of asking God to just let her know how much I care about her and to hug her for me. It makes me seriously wonder every time I fall into the same sinful things, whether I'll every make it, to ever do it myself one day. It's unfortunate that we were all so tired at that point, and it seemed like such an odd moment. It's not something I could ever ask of, to see those things, since I didn't even deserve to be a guest, much less be a part of this small circle of friends. And I feel like they are family, like that was my home up there. I truly feel homesick being away from that atmosphere. Does that make any sense? I mean, I'm nobody at all, and somehow I became a part of an inner circle, built on Rachel's life that nearly nobody else in the world can say they are apart of. I'm just some guy, who doesn't really have any of the abilities you would think would be essential for a life after something changed them so much. I often think of how it seems like a wasted effort on me. It literally takes me hours to type out my testimony and what I have to say. Looking someone in the eyes is difficult enough for me. But if you wanted to know what I want the most in this life, it is to one day gain what Rachel now has for herself, and that is a fulfilled and meaningful life, and most of all, to hear the words "Thou Good And Faithful Servant", and not feel that you are ashamed of. To feel the love that seems to be so freely given to others, but what I might try my whole life to have. To receive my own crown and finish my own race.

I don't want this to seem strange to you, for my lack of better words. Maybe you'll never really know, I don't know. But during this whole stay in Colorado, it's brought me so close to the person and places that have had such a life-changing impact on me, and it makes it so much more real being there, that you connect in a way you never could otherwise. Walking in her footsteps, and learning even more, and having a much more intimate part in her life than almost anyone out there has had the honor to do, is the greatest thing I take from all of it. I'm trying my very best to get it across to you, even in a very sloppy, hurried manner like this. It was more than I ever wanted it to be, and I'm so thankful to God for granting me what I desired for so long. This is certainly near the top of all things I will forever cherish and be glad for. If you imagine all those touched by Rachel's life, there are only a handful of people closely related and involved in such a personal way. And somehow I was welcomed into that group. It amazes me to think about it. The whole trip is just beyond words to me, so I hope this gives you some idea of what it was like. There's so much more than there is time to share. So I'll leave it at that.

When I arrived back home, I was already working on plans to come back one more time, within the next few months. Even with all the things I did, just a week and a half didn't feel like nearly enough time. So I started saving money again, and by late September I returned, but only for a week. This second visit was a lot different in many ways. I was on my own this time, and could spend all the time I wanted by myself. That was something that was lacking the first time around. Michael was gone to work most of the day, but Charlotte was still in Colorado then. I spent a lot of time talking to her on the phone and we tried doing things when we could. Nobody had big plans and it was kind of lonely. I stayed at my motel a lot and didn't do much. Around 6pm in the evening, I'd drop by Michael's until late at night. I took the time to visit Rachel's grave of course, and ate at her Subway again. I stopped at Clement Park and took plenty of time taking photos there. One of the last things I did while I was there, was spend time alone at Columbine, something I had never done. It was so beautiful the days I was there, the weather was perfect. I got over the feelings of apprehension, and sat down at the remodeled part of the west entrance where the shooting took place. It was so much different than it was back then. The new library behind it wasn't there and the stairs up the hill were redesigned. They had planted a new tree at that spot, and I sat down next to it and just thought about everything. It's so overwhelming being there, it's really too much to take in. There was no one else around, except for some girls playing soccer in a field not far away. They didn't seem to notice me being there. This mostly likely was the last time I would set foot on the school grounds, so I tried my best to make the most of that moment. But what can you do? There just aren't any answers. It's the same feeling when you sit at Rachel's grave. You wonder, "Why am I here? I don't understand this." So, I wish there was this big spiritual experience or something to awe and inspire someone with. But there wasn't. I just stayed until I didn't feel the need to anymore and left. It always feels like someone is watching you through the windows, even though there's nobody inside the school. It will probably always feel like I'm intruding on other people's lives by going there, but maybe that's just me.

It's now been over two years ago since my visits. I always wanted to finish this part of my testimony, since it brings it all to a close in some way. I just haven't found time to do it. There's so much going on in my life that I don't understand. I wish I could say everything was better and stayed wonderful after my time in Colorado. But it's actually been the worst time of my life. I still have addictions and struggles that want to destroy me. I've wasted most of the past two years, following after things that don't matter and take me to dead ends. Wasted a lot of money too. Right now, I have lost my job of three years, can't make the payments on my truck, and have a grandfather dying of cancer. My spiritual life is a mess, and I wake up every day worrying about where my life is going. Rachel has been such a part of my life, I've always felt a desire to know her family or maybe be a small part of their life. Or to share my testimony with them. This past April, I wrote to Bethanee Scott about Rachel's testimony in my life and a shortened version of what I've written here. Bethanee wrote me back saying that her family read my letter on the 20th and that it helped them to read it. I really felt good to feel like I accomplished something for once in a long time. Part of me would love to leave Oklahoma and move to Colorado, and spend some time with Michael and friends. Problem is, I have no idea how I would get by up there, being from out of town and not having a job or vehicle. Michael is working on a big project for Rachel due by the 10th anniversary of Columbine. It would be great if I could somehow be a part of that, but I don't know what I could contribute to it. I always have these big ideas, but they never seem to work out.

I hope that anyone who reads all this can get something out of it. To me, it's so confusing. But there are a lot of people out there who don't know anything about me. I guess that's why I write this, and to make it known for those who want to know.

Thanks for taking the time to read a stranger's story.

Will

See photos from my Colorado Vacation in 2004
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Music:

Flyleaf , Sanctus Real , Day of Fire , Emery , Falling Up , Third Day , Building 429
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Concerts I have attended
Demon Hunter on June 12 will probably be my last show.
My heart just isn't in it anymore..
5-29-08

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"If the people we love are stolen from us, the way to have them live on is to never stop loving them.
Buildings burn, people die, but real love is forever."

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Heroes:

Rachel Joy truly touched my life.
But if I could ever tell her, she would probably just say I made her uncomfortable and I'm stalking her. *5-29-08*