Once I was lost

I once dreamt that I was standing on cold concrete surrounded by men with nowhere to go. Nowhere to run. I was scared.

In my dream I could fly away and hover in midair. I could see the stars I was so high! The sky was pitch black and the ocean was purple. With the wind blowing on my face, I could hear the ocean roar as I soared over the ocean at night.

I woke up to find myself still in prison in British Columbia. But there was a sense of freedom in that dream. I felt that though I was surrounded by my fellow inmates, I was free. Little did I know that a few short years later, my freedom would become literal.

I'm part Native, Irish, and Mexican, born and raised in East Vancouver, B.C. I grew up in a violent home. My dad was a victim of Residential Schools and his pain was passed down to me along with his anger.

My father had a really bad temper. When I was about four, I vividly remember him screaming at my mom as he was pulling me away. I was wondering "where are we were going?"

As we rushed down 33rd to Victoria Street, my mom was yelling at my dad and she was freaking out! She was begging my dad not to take me away.

My father flagged down a taxi on the busy street. I can remember looking back and wondering if I would ever see my mother again.

We eventually pulled up to one of my father's secret apartments where he sold drugs. He sold pot for a living and raised both myself and my sister with pot around all the time.

I learned about drug dealing as a young child and as we grew, my father taught us how to hustle the streets.

I also remember he wasn't supposed to drink alcohol because he said he would quit. But as soon as we pulled up to his apartment, he left and came back carrying a six-pack of beer.

When my father drank, he became violent and abusive. Alcohol transformed him into an angry, abusive man. My anger led me to commit crimes which sent me to jail. This only increased my level of anger and violence.

One day an officer in prison said to me "You know, Francis, only one percent of these men will ever make it out of the prison system."

Well, I wanted to be that one percent but I was a very hardened young man. My early years of violence were my normal way to live. At that time I had allowed a hard shell to develop around my heart.

I learned about my Native culture in prison and I tried to practice it inside, opening up enough to allow just enough good to flow into my heart.

My eyes opened and I could see clearly that there's a conflict between the Native culture and the Native gangs' teaching. I realized the way I was living wasn't right and that I had to detach myself from my involvement within the gang. I knew I would have to break free from it all, and break away completely!

When I did, my life started to change. I reached out to ask for help and guidance. I sought spiritual advisers, elders, and mentors.

When I was 26 years old, I went to a recovery house in Port Coquitlam, B.C. It was there that I attended a church for the very first time. Up until that time, I hated church and everything I thought the church stood for.

I heard about Jesus and that He was not only Creator but that He loved me. It wasn't long before I surrendered to His name, asking Him, as Creator, to become my Savior, and take charge of my life.

As in that dream in my cell, I believe God was calling me out of the darkness into the light. I believe He was calling me to become a light and a witness for Him.

My heart started to change. I no longer wanted to be that vicious violent gang member anymore. I wanted to be free!

I started to truly seek for a lifestyle that was better than prison but I had so many visual flashbacks of my life-the sexual abuse I experienced from my father and his fits of anger-which led me to take out my rage through violent ways. As I began searching for something greater than what I was taught by my father, I realized that all my pain and hurt came from there.

I did inner soul searching. I really needed to know where my anger stemmed from and how I could truly be free. At the same time, I knew God Himself wanted to show me who I really was so I could begin to heal.

When I reached my lowest point in my emotional rollercoaster, a burning desire rose within me to write my story about my childhood and experiences in prison and being part of a Native prison gang.

I began writing while I was serving time in prison in 2005. I wrote as a release of emotions that were happening inside me. I really wanted to start the process of breaking the vicious cycle that never seems to go away amongst our Native people.

I had and still have a strong determination to share what I have learned since leaving prison so others don't have to repeat the same things I did or go through what I had to go through. My first writings I titled "Lost Souls in Native Gangs." I came up with that title because I knew exactly how it felt to feel completely lost.

I wish I could say that my life became a steady journey forward but, no, there have been obstacles on the way to where I've arrived at this stage in my life. Many of those roadblocks were self-imposed by my poor choices and desires.

Once I was a very hardened man but I heard Creator's voice and by His Spirit, my heart softened towards Him and others. I am forever grateful to be alive and to those who have been helping me along my journey.

Pouring out my heart through my writing, I have written about serious issues inside our correctional system, in our communities, and on the streets. I have learned as a young man that walking a spiritual journey is hard and sometimes frightening, but God says "We have not been given a spirit of fear but of power, love, and self-discipline" (Second Timothy 1:7).

Francis has written many short stories and a memoir soon to be published.