Claire Buesser

My name is Claire Buesser. I am 14 years old and live in Northern New Jersey. I have followed Erin for about two years off and on, steadily for the last six months. I heard of you from Mrs. Stiles, mother of Angel Laura who went to my school. (www.caringbridge.org/visit/laurastiles). I only read of the Erin Project a few hours ago, and I think it is a great idea. I wrote the following today and finished it a few minutes ago. I hope my picture came out in the attachment. I pray for Erin every night before I go to sleep. I really admire Erin and think that she is such a trooper...the typical things said about cancer patients. But Erin is, well, Erin, and she has such determination and brilliance that she cannot be compared. Her unique and spunky personality reminds me of myself in a few ways. I don't live anywhere near Texas. I don't play soccer, and cooking is not the height of my talents. I don't travel to the nearest city for treatment. I'm not in middle school, and I don't have freckles. But I still read Erin's journal and think of her often. I think that it is no accident that she has Cancer. It is no accident that people read her entries. It is no accident that she is in the family she is in or that she has the friends that she has. Whatever the reasons for all of these things, I certainly don't know. But they happened. Here is the poem I wrote:

My Little Light and Me

There is a place called Texas,
A place so lush and clean,
There is a house in Bryan,
A house with grass that's green.

This quaint little house is a lot like mine,
A lot like yours, and a lot like hers'.
And in this house lives a little girl.
A brave little girl with a heart of gold,
Who will stay full of humor, till she is gray and old.

This house has a light that shines like the sun,
From morning until dawn.

This light of which I speak, is not which you may think.
This light of which I speak, is one of which we seek.
This light is free, and cannot go out.

No matter the wind, and no matter the pain.
No matter the storm, and no matter the rain.
This light will always shine, like a fairytale day.
This light will always shine, like a little girl at play.

The little girl at play, who lives inside the house,
Knows there's a light, but find it, she cannot.
She tiptoes round the floor, quiet as a mouse,
She runs about the living room, a game she now has got.

She often feels she can't wake up, or has to get a shot.
For did I not say? Now pardon me,
It's Cancer she has got.

She zips up her jackets, she buttons her vest.
She looks like every other kid,
She looks like all the rest.

But inside she is different, but not just 'cause of that.
It's not because she has no hair and has to wear a hat.
It's something known to only Him, it's something we must learn.
It's something this small child has, which all the scholars yearn.

She knows to love, to laugh, to live,
Her spirit is of fire.
Though indeed quite strong and tough she is,
Her heart sings like a lyre.

Every person has a job to do,
A certain thing to find.
Some people may have five or two,
Some heartstrings they must bind.

So as this little girl looks up, her face all full of fear,
Her expression changes rapidly, a sudden burst of joy.
For not one man has yet beheld looks of delight so dear.

You may not know just what it is,

That causes her to smile.

You may not know just what it is,

That gets her through the day.

She gets it through the day,

This little girl at play,

Because she found the light she sought:

Twas in her heart, a place of which,

She never would have thought.

So day by day she skips, she runs, and with her wings she flies.

And one day when shes very old, shell go and reach the skies.

And thank her God for all he's done, for all he let her be.

For making her forever be, My little light and me.