Find
Hope
When I was about twelve or thirteen years old I heard my grandfather say, “The only good white man is a dead one.”
From the very beginning my real dad told me he loved me, but left. He may have loved me, but I don’t know. Then a step dad came in, and said he loved me and my mom, but would also tell me to not tell. It started with fondling...
I Got out of my truck and walked towards the shack. As I stepped up to the door it opened about an inch, and a double barrel shotgun stuck out of the door. At about that time I wondered if God knew what he was doing.
People disappear all the time and nobody would have ever known what happened to them. It was my intent to kill them for what they had done to me.
"Suddenly I felt the real power and presence of God. It was like fire and electricity shooting through my body."
“You’re going to end up like your father, a bum on the street, a loser, an alcoholic.” As a kid, growing up hearing those things hurt me. I thought, “Man, after everything I do for you, this is how you love me.”
I didn’t tell very many people about this for a long time. I didn’t want them to think I was crazy. I know I ran up on some wicked stuff that day.
I slept in the car one night with my newborn baby. That was one of those “God, why me” moments.
They took me to the dessert out in Tucson, AZ and tried to make me dig a hole. They were going to bury me in the hole. So I told them; “Kill me and dig it yourself.”
"I almost feel completely empty, completely drained, completely freed of everything that had held me back before."