“Master Rahl guide us. Master Rahl teach us. Master Rahl protect us. In your light we thrive. In your mercy we are sheltered. In your wisdom we are humbled. We live only to serve. Our lives are yours.”
Sometime between 20 and 30, I started calling him “brother.”
I think it’s because he started calling me sissy, but maybe that had nothing to do with being his sister?
Anyway, tonight we’re not going to talk about little sisters or big brothers.
Tonight, it’s really about right and wrong.
Right and Wrong
What does that even mean anymore?
Growing up, well into my twenties, I’ve always believed that if I have a problem, if I’m in danger, or afraid, I can call the police. The police will help me. The justice system helps people who are good. I just wish that this were true.
There’s a story that’s impossible to retell. It’s a story about a USMC veteran. A good man. A loving father. In this story, his marriage isn’t so great, and it culminates in fights and arguments where the Marine, the father, cowers, covered his face and tries to save himself from being kicked, hit, hurt.
In this story, his wife loses control.
In this story, he goes to the police — bruised, bleeding. The first question they ask is, “What did you do to her?”
There is a lot more to this story. He’s arrested. He’s taken to the hospital. His skull isn’t damaged, but his wife pressed charges. She’s afraid of him.
Nearly a year later, he’s still waiting for his day in court.
The pending criminal charges keep him from seeing his children (because he’s violent).
The judge looks at him with disgust (because he’s violent).
My brother is such a good man and he loves his children and he’d never hurt them. He didn’t raise a hand to his wife, even when she was kicking him in the head.
Read his story. Help us out. Let’s change the world, and let’s start here, with my big brother.