My name is Bob and I am 38 years old today. Until 9 years ago, I never would have thought I would live this long.
My parents divorced when I was 12 but my family had been irrevocably destroyed long before. Contaminated by lies, deceit, alcohol and despair. I was one of countless kids living through a hell they had no hand in, suffering by the mistakes and untruths of others. My story is not unusual. Nevertheless, it is my story.

I started drinking and doing drugs at the same time. Together they seemed to dull the pain and loneliness I felt. At age 14, I was a full-fledged alcoholic and drug addict.

I never met a drug I did not like or at least would force myself to like. By the time I graduated from high school I was stoned and drunk six days out of seven. My lack of ambition was staggering; I did not want to do anything but stay wasted.

For nine years, I partied, getting nowhere but never alone. I had my booze and my stash and my "friends", the ones that always know where the party is.

I had a beautiful girlfriend and for the life of me, I could not figure out why she loved me. We tried living together but I thought the house was too full with her, my addictions, and me. She became pregnant and I took her to the abortionist. At the time, I thought it was the 'right thing to do'. However, even as my child was being torn from her womb I knew I was killing a part of myself. Not long after we broke up and I have seen her but twice since. I can barely look her in the face for the shame I feel.

In 1986, I met the woman I had always longed for; a coke dealing babe who thought I was the funniest guy who ever walked the earth. She asked me to move in and I sure did not hesitate. Thus, my slide into nothingness went to light speed.

I would think of my family from time to time but didn't want any contact with any of them. God certainly was not a part of my life though I think He would differ on that account.

Now, I had entertained the thought of suicide many times previously, but after snorting and smoking coke for two and a half years, it seemed like the next logical step to the walk I was taking. I would try to kill myself. I would take a rather large amount of cocaine and a half-rack of beer and drive my car at insane speeds along the country roads of southwest Washington, hoping I would somehow end my miserable, pointless life. Obviously, it didn't work out the way I had it planned.

My relationship with my little coke-dealing lady ended one fine evening when one of her fallopian tubes burst do to the child that had formed there. That was it for me, I killed another child by my drug abuse. Within a week I had moved into very low rent apartment, just me, my clothes, a TV, eight ounces of cocaine, and one 9mm semi-automatic Browning Hi-Power pistol.

I figured it was time to shut down the circus and move on out of here. I wouldn't eat, the coke and booze I had purchased would see me through. It took a while to really reach the bottom and come to the (Hi-) point. I called my oldest sister in California just to say goodbye. I had to use the pay-phone down the street because my telephone, along with the power, was disconnected. I could tell she was very scared but there was nothing she could do, my nearest relative lived 15 miles away and could never make it to my hovel in time to see anything but my corpse. I had really planned ahead but life is what happens when you are making plans.

After hanging up, I went back to the dump which I called home, went into the bedroom, sat down and snorted one big line. What a shame, I thought, there is going to be a bunch of left over coke. Oh, well. I took out the gun, checked the magazine for the thousand time, racked the slide back and checked to see that the 9mm round had found it's home. Putting the barrel to my head, I mentally said goodbye to this rotten earth and pulled the trigger.

Man, was I surprised to hear the firing pin hit the primer and nothing else. I could not believe it! I can't even kill myself right!!!
I was completely defeated, I could do nothing right. I screamed "God, help me! I can't do this alone. Please, help me."

I heard a truck pull up the drive and figured it must be my other sister, Lori. She must have wings to get here so quickly. I put the traitorous gun in the cupboard and opened the door. I was sobbing so hard I could barely stand. I do not remember much of what Lori did while there but I suddenly felt I was not in control of my mind. I was being directed by something else and I had the feeling that I wasn't alone at all.

Lori asked me if I was all right and with the calmest of voices, I said yes. I was all right; I knew it in my heart. She left me after giving me a number to call to get my utilities turned on and to call her tomorrow with the number. I promised I would and said goodnight.

When she was gone, I sat on the floor and thought about what had happened in the last hour. I felt I was in shock. I retrieved the gun and ejected the chambered round. Examining it, I saw the dent in the primer where the pin had struck it. That was the point where I saw how God HAD been in my life. I remembered a time long ago when I had asked Jesus Christ into my life as a plea for help. I thought He had not heard me or had deemed my unworthy of His help. After all, I did not go to church or read the Bible so why should He save me? What I didn't know could fill volumes.

I sat on my bare floor and let my mind ponder the enormity of the night's event sink in to my brain. I heard, or, more correctly felt, that it is not my time and God has something for me to do for Him. Something I will never know but shall do in His time.

I feel Him with me as I write this.

All the times I had tried to die but He would not let me. The drunken driving, the massive drug and alcohol abuses. The dangerous life I had led.

When I think back, I can see when Jesus was with me, keeping me safe so I could do His will. He was always there.
Always.

My life was not easy to resurrect; however, my spirit was lifted. My body had to clean itself of the toxins I had put into it. The chemistry of my brain has been altered forever. However, in God, there is a way. He sends people into your life to help you. I know, I am walking proof.

I entered the Navy and got my life together. I was blessed with a wonderful wife and a child who would give me a second chance at being a child.
With the training I received in the Navy, I have found a good job in my hometown.

With the help of God, I have come to love my parents and family as they are, not as what I imagine they should be.
I know God has been with me throughout my life, guiding me. And when I look behind me and see one set of footprints in the sand, I know that is where God carried me.

Love and Peace to you all,

Robert L. Johnson