Praise the Lord,
0 my soul; all my inmost being, praise His holy name.
(Psalm 103:1, NIV)
I was about five years old when I got sent on a bus to residential school. I don't remember much before that, and I don't remember much about the school either.
I stayed at the residential school until it burned down when I was 13 or 14. That was the year I started drinking.
When I got home from residential school, I was sent to a training school because I was a minor with a drinking problem. The training school was in Toronto (about 1200 miles from my home in Red Lake, Ontario). I stayed at the school for about six months.
From there I was placed in a foster home in Kenora. But there was a problem. One of the boys in the home kept sneaking into my room at night. I told his mom but she only got mad at me. I was sent back to Toronto where I was put in a second foster home. These people were nicer so I ended up staying about two years.
A friend from the training school was also sent to a foster home in Kenora. We saw each other at school. One afternoon, when we were having lunch, my friend told me that she was going to run away to Red Lake. I thought about what she was telling me and then decided that I would join her.
We waited until the other kids went to their classes and then we just walked out of school and down the highway towards home! We walked until it got dark. We kept walking and soon saw a house with the lights on. We knocked on the door and asked if we could use their phone to call a cab. Instead of calling a cab, they called the cops!
When the police came, they drove us to Red Lake. We didn't want to tell the police our real names so we made some up. They drove us to these people's home and knocked on the door. "Here's your daughter," they told the parents.
"You're not our daughter," they replied. So, we had to tell them the truth. The police let us go so we could go home. My dad was happy when he saw me but my mom wasn't there. I lost my mom when I was in foster care. They didn't tell me about her death until after the funeral was over. I wasn't able to attend and was very hurt about that.
I started drinking and got into fights. I stayed with a guy and he fathered my first child when I was just 16. Altogether, I had five children; two of them died. Their father died also. The three that survived were put in foster care and eventually adopted. Today, I still don't know where they are.
I met some Christians about ten years ago. I was invited to go to a retreat at Beaver Lake Camp. After the weekend, I stayed with them for about five months and helped take care of their kids.
I stopped drinking for about five months but when I got back to Red Lake, my friends made fun of me saying, "You're too good for us, eh?" I couldn't take the pressure and began drinking again-drinking and fighting and going back and forth to jail.
During this time, a lady befriended me and took me to a place called Stormer Lake to help me stop drinking but each time I went right back to drinking.
Then there came a time when I decided I didn't want to continue like that. By that time, I was starting to see things and had strange thoughts. I was even put in the hospital for about a month. They gave me medicine but I just spit it out. I got so bad they had to put me in a straightjacket. One time, when I was free, I hit a doctor. They were going to call the police but the nurse said, "She doesn't know what she's doing."
When they gave me food, I'd see crazy things crawling on my plate so I threw it on the floor. I finally ran away from the hospital and into the bush where I passed out.
Once in a while, I came to and realized I only had on a hospital gown and no shoes. I was scratched up pretty badly and my feet were bloodied.
The next time I came to, a policeman was standing over me. He talked to me and brought me back to the hospital where they gave me a shower and some food. I soon fell asleep.
Later I woke up to find some Christians gathered around my bed. They appeared to have large heads and were funny to me. I guess I was still hallucinating. I laughed at them but they just kept on praying.
When I left the hospital, I started drinking again. Shortly after, I found myself lying on the ground unable to get up. A guy came along and asked, "What are you doing down there?"
I told him I couldn't get up; I was too sick. He told me to just lie there until I felt better.
Another guy came along and he had a Mickey. I took a drink and decided I'd had enough and went uptown with him that night. I tried not to drink but couldn't stop. Before long, I got on a bad drunk that night.
The next day, I found out that my drinking buddy had passed away. After I lost him, I was really alone.
I was sitting alone on the curb thinking to myself. "I should quit this boozing." I just happened to say, "Please help me." As soon as I said those words, I felt something touch me.
Soon a couple people came to sit by me. "Do you want to drink?" one of them asked me.
"No," I replied.
They told me there was a church meeting down at the park. I got up and went for prayer. That's where I met some other people from the church.
I started going to church. Every time the pastor would see me downtown, he'd drive me home again so I wouldn't start drinking.
About a year later, the pastor talked to me about getting baptized. "I don't think I'm ready," I told him.
As we talked, he assured me that I was ready. When I was baptized, I lost my desire to smoke.
I've been active in my church and attending a cell group. It's really a good thing. I don't talk a lot in our group; I just listen.
Every morning when I wake up, I thank God. I remember how I used to be sick every morning. Now I thank Him that I can do things I wasn't able to do before.
I write poems and sometimes I read them at a coffeehouse. I wrote a poem about my cat.
The song "Amazing Grace" is a favorite of mine. It reminds me of who I am. I was lost but now I've been found. I was blind; now I see.
