Intertribal Life Newspaper -

The power of the Holy Spirit

has made me free from

the power of sin and death.

This power is mine because I belong to Christ Jesus.

Romans 8:2 NLV

Standing less than one hundred yards from a bridge high above a ravine, I was about to throw myself over the edge to end my throbbing pain. But someone reached out and saved me.

My story is a very personal one. My birth family was steeped in satanic worship. They devised their own increasingly gross ceremonies, which shocked even orthodox Satanists.

I was conceived out of wedlock as part of a satanic ritual on Good Friday one year. I was born on January 15 the next. An uncle, functioning as high priest, was to kill me in a satanic ceremony on Good Friday only months after I was born. However, my life was saved when a large yellow tomcat burst into the room. He was sacrificed in my place.

Uncle baptized me in a satanic ceremony when I was about four months old. He presented my body as a living sacrifice to Satan. At that moment, an entity named "Legion" entered my body. That uncle became my guardian for up to three years.

When I was barely six years old, I lost my parents. My father died of cancer. I felt that he had abandoned me.

After his death, I was placed in an orphanage. As I recall, my first days in that orphanage, I wondered where Mom was. I wondered how long I was to be in that strange place.

I remember standing and staring out the wide windows, searching, hoping for even a glimpse of my mother.

We orphans used to gather around the front of the big cabinet radio and listen to the adventures of Lone Ranger, Hopalong Cassidy, The Green Hornet, Fibber McGee and Molly's Closet and Only the Shadow Knows. I laugh as my mind travels back in time.

My time in the home wasn't much fun. My first sexual assault by other than a member of my family, took place one week after I was dropped off at the orphanage. At the very moment when I still felt numb inside from being left behind by my mom, several older boys who lived in the dormitory, jumped me in the dark of midnight. They molested me savagely, warning me that if I told anyone, they would get my younger brother and kill me.

I have had a lifetime fear of teenage males that began somewhere early in my life. That alone points to probably severe abuse.

My one friend in the orphanage was a huge black and tan mongrel-an overgrown moose of a dog that thought he was both human and puppy at the same time. He was continuously bathing my face with his wet, slurpy tongue. He came to be named Rhubarb for all of his scraps with skunks and prickly porcupines. He reminded me of myself.

My brothers, other orphans and I ran away three times, but the police simply returned us to the same pit of horror. The authorities refused to believe me. In our final attempt to escape terror, a set of twins, who were my best friends, drowned-one in an old, unused water well located just off the orphanage property and the other boy drowned in a fast-flowing river nearby.

As a timid teenager, I faced a steady barrage of sexual innuendo. Profane humor, laced with explicit filthy jokes, was forced on me. In addition, incest, sexual assaults, alcoholism, vicious beatings, bestiality, homosexuality, lesbianism, promiscuity, multiple marriages and remarriages, were all part of our "normal" family.

Screaming, and beatings with buggy whips, guns, knives and fists were a constant feature during arguments. Harness straps and clubs were often used on me for minor infractions, such as not learning my ABCs quick enough.

My last stepfather, upon catching me acting out the putrid stories, declared me crazy. He personally shipped me to a psychiatric hospital in mid-winter. He was so upset with me that he went through several red lights in the big city, crashing into another car. He didn't tell me how long I'd be in the hospital or even say goodbye.

Mom was there but didn't utter a word. That stepfather, while declaring me crazy, molested my half-sisters at the very time he discarded me.

As a result, the same uncle [who abused me] and his offspring eventually molested every one of my siblings, nieces and nephew. My siblings refused to lay sexual assault charges for fear the family would fall apart and they would be blamed for the breakup. My stepfather even declared that I should not live in the past, without so much as an "I am sorry for what I did to you and your siblings," as if nothing whatever happened.

Mother stated several times over the years that my natural father had often said that he wanted to own property that held two houses separated by a high, steep hill. He would live at the top of the hill while any children would live in a shack at the bottom. She often called me a "little abortion" in her anger and "I wish you had died!"

My heritage has enough Ojibwe and Cree blood to hold legitimate membership in the Métis Nation of Alberta. There is such a mixture of European races, that I cannot even call myself a half-breed.

Where did I fit in? I didn't fit in Native society; I didn't fit in white society. I felt as though I were a non-person. I didn't fit on the street nor with church people.

I had a constant committee of voices in my head saying "You are stupid!" "Dummy!" "Good for nothing!" "You are going to die!"

I eventually did marry, but after three years, I was forced from my home because I could not express soft feelings-only anger. I often rammed my fists through plaster and lathe walls, slamming interior doors so hard they splintered at the seams.

A divorce petition arrived at my home one June 30. By August 22, I decided to jump from a long, high bridge to end my life of pain. But I was very afraid of merely ending up a cripple.

I felt a sense of relief in having made my decision. I felt I had to say goodbye to someone. The only person I could think of was a young waitress I had gotten to know. She was leaving the city for her home in British Columbia.

Early that morning, I sat with her having coffee. Business was slack, unusual for that time of morning.

She abruptly asked me the stupidest but most relevant question I ever heard anyone pose to a man about to kill himself.

"Did you know I was a Christian?"

I made her repeat her question, stating that I had not connected her with religion.

I pushed myself up from the table. Unexpectedly, a gentleman spoke behind me. I couldn't judge whether he was young or old, but his quiet gentle voice fairly surged with authority. "She has things in her life that you have wanted in yours. Why do you not ask her to tell you more?"

After pondering this comment, I arranged with the young girl to meet with her after her shift was over, despite the fact that she had planned on packing for her trip to British Columbia. She hadn't taken cash from anyone but as I turned to thank the gentleman for his suggestion, no one was in the room. Perhaps he simply left his payment on a table and left.

We met, walked and talked. I don't recall what we spoke of. An hour later, as we sat on a set of swings in a small city park, she asked me if I was ready to accept Jesus as my Savior.

"Nope. Tried religion. Didn't work."

Once again, the gentleman's voice that I heard in the cafe spoke again. "You have fully resolved to use the bridge. You have never asked Me to take any part in your life. If you jump, you will have no other opportunity."

Again, I pondered His comment. After several seconds or minutes, I turned to my friend, stating that I thought I was ready. She led me through a simple "sinner's prayer" that I restated for myself.

"Jesus, if You are alive like this girl says You are, and if You can make my life worthwhile, then please come into my life. But if You cannot produce the goods, do not bother me again."

I didn't even complete the last sentence before I sensed a concentrated cleansing action begin at the soles of my feet, travel up my legs, through my body and out the top of my head.

"I'm clean! I'm clean! I'm clean!" For the first time in my life I was clean.

I began to dance about. Even the dirt on the houses and on the street looked new.

The now familiar voice sounded yet a third time, uttering the first sound I heard after my prayer. "If any man be in Christ Jesus, he is a new creation. Behold the old has passed away. Behold, all things are become new."

Where I once felt that I was a non-person, the Lord had caused me to be a person called of God, called forth to speak His praises.

Following Christ has not been easy. In fact, I am here today only because the Holy Spirit has been my Comforter, and my Teacher. God has provided certain people at the right time, to help me along but usually in short-term relationships.

This is just the beginning of new relationships and renewal of old ones as they appear without my former clouded lenses of perception. This is a new beginning of forgiveness, restitution, and of following hard after the Lord. My life has become worth living only because Jesus lives in me. Come, taste, and see that the Lord, He is good!

From The Conquering Indian, published by Indian Life Ministries.