I was living in california with my two young sons. I had just moved there with the mistaken notion that it would change my life, and also that of my children. Oh my life changed, but not for the better.
I had thought when I left my childhood behind the drugs would remain in the past as well. As a teenager I was addicted to crystal meth, but I found God and was able to kick the habbit for years. For years I was clean and sober. You see, back then, I stood solid in my God and gratefully gave him all the credit for my sobriety. Then my ma, my best friend, was murdered, and I was full of rage. All of which I directed towards God. I no longer walked the path. I was so filled with rage, but I did not realize how distructive that rage would become. I don't know if I forgot or chose not to remember how to pray.
So now I am full of hurt, rage, and my children and I just moved into the very same county my ma was taken from me in. Not a good combination. It wasn't long before my old friend came a knockin' and there I was in oblivion. I felt nothing, no pain, no anger, no pleasure... I was numb. At first I was content with that, I was even a functional addict.... I did everything a mother was supposed to do... except pay attention...unless they pissed me off or it was time for food or bed. Other than that everything seemed fine(from a drug induced perspective, anyway).
About 8 months after I was there, I had been up for more days than I care to remember, so I passed out, with a mirror full of meth on my chest and woke up with my then 4 year old son looking down at me. That was the beginning of the end. A thought, an idea, started whispering in my ear, "Your gonna lose them." The whisper became a roar, and still, I did not pray. I did however, pack us up in a uhaul and drove away with about $200 in my pocket, 3000 miles to go, those two precious boys sitting in the seat beside me. I started on a journey I will never forget.
When I left california everyone said I would not make it, and though I was still mad at God, I knew that he was wedged right beside me and my children in for the long haul. And I said this. They still doubted. But doubts or no doubts our long journey home began. And boy was it a long journey, in more ways than one.
I left california and drove and snorted and drove and snorted some more. until I ran out. Then I slept and I drove; one then the other repeatedly. The colorado Rockies are no joke. I was more terrified then anything life ever threw at me. but we made it through. So now we made it to Iowa and I'm broke, so I made a call and my dad and the kids' dad put $100 dollars together and sent it. Now I've made it to the border of Ohio. No food left, sitting on an empty tank, and ten bucks in my pocket. I pulled into the gas station, and asked the attendant, "where is the non-toll road to New York?," and handed her my ten dollars.
As I was speaking I became aware that I had an audience. The woman(Diana) was kinda non-discript, but blunt. "You'll never make it."
"That's all I have."
"Fill it up please.," she said to the attendant, and to me, "and feed your kids."
When I came in from pumping gas and giving the kids breakfast, she came up to with $60 in her hand and some advise. "keep to the toll road in case anything happens you'll be safer."
I asked for her name, "diana"she said. and I thanked her and before I could comprehend her kindness she was gone. No last name, nothing.
Because of this small but powerful act of kindness, we made it to Rochester, New York with $3 in my pocket, an empty tank of gas, and we were all safe. But more than anything, I knew with my whole heart that it was God that sent "Diana" to me and my children. There are angels among us.
Four years later and on the right path this memory still has the power to bring me to tears of love towards God and Diana.
Diana where ever you are, you never far from my mind and heart. and if you are reading this by chance..... THANK YOU
