Broken Wing, by Valerie Sawyers

Although several years have passed, even today, I find myself remembering how I became addicted to crack cocaine. I cannot remember exactly when, but I do remember how. It is true, and statistics do not lie. Thirty percent of people addicted to crack start out using the small stuff. For me, it was marijuana. Then I began sniffing cocaine, and gradually I “graduated” to the hard stuff, crack cocaine. I had my back turned from God, with a broken butterfly wing. I remember sitting on the couch in my apartment rolling a “fifty-one.” What is a “fifty-one”? It is tobacco or marijuana mixed with crack cocaine rolled in cigarette paper. Anyway, as I rolled my “fifty-one,” tears fell from my eyes, and I asked the Lord to help me. As I returned to my cocoon, I was waiting for God to restore me and, even though He was there with open arms, I could not see Him.

 I was in the process of buying a house. Yes, that is right. I was going to buy a house, and I was addicted to crack cocaine. It was amazing, looking at God, still in the blessing business in spite of everything. By the time I moved into my house, I was still smoking “fifty-ones.” I remember asking myself: Self, why are you wasting your cigarettes and marijuana when you can use a pipe to smoke your crack? With that in mind, I went to the gas station and asked for a “flower.” A flower is a glass tube about three inches long with a silk stemmed flower in it. It had a cork on each end to hold the flower in place. I brought some brass billow pads to use as a net to place the crack on in order to smoke, and I was on my way. I was rolling with the “big dogs” now. 

How convenient; the crack house was not even a block from where I lived. I was not an everyday smoker but when I did smoke, I smoked for two or three days straight. Where I got the money from is a good question. I was on Social Security disability, so I had a monthly income that allotted me enough money to pay my bills and meet my personal needs. After all, I had to keep up the image of a responsible adult because the people who mattered did not know I was addicted to crack.

Another way I supported my habit was this: while still living in my apartment, I was buying things I would need/want for my house. I remember becoming a good negotiator in selling those items at the crack house. I became a household name at that location. If I could not sell them at that crack house, I would go to the local gas station and sell them there. My mother gave me a gas credit card because she wanted to make sure I had gas to get to my doctor appointments and wherever else I needed to go. I used the gas card in exchange for cash to the people who were willing to make the exchange. As time went on, I learned of other crack houses in the neighborhood from a friend girl, who had turned her back on God as well. I had my own personal supplier who delivered and allowed me to buy crack and marijuana on credit. Ninety-five percent of the time I smoked by myself because I did not want anybody to know my dirty little secret.

 Still stuck on stupid, trying to find my way back to God, I attempted to go to church. I believe God was not having it this particular night, because no matter how many times I tried to get to the church, I kept getting lost. On my last attempt I heard God’s voice. “Not another night will you come into my house high!” At that point I knew I needed help, but I continued to get high. After hearing the voice of the Lord, I took what He said to heart, and made sure that when I did go to church, I was sober.  I can remember going to church several times and when they had altar call, I would go up for prayer, hoping to get delivered from my addiction but to no avail. I was still bound.   The Lord knew that I wanted to get set free but, the question was, how bad did I want it?  Obviously, not bad enough, because I continued to get high.

It was in the winter time when I met this guy named Tyrone—for real, his name was Tyrone. He was nice and I felt safe with him. This one day we were getting high together and we ran out of crack. He came up with an idea for us to make some money. It had snowed heavily that day, so we went knocking on doors to ask if we could shovel the snow. After making about seventy bucks, we went to his connection to buy some crack. Most crack houses only sold ten-dollar bags, so he brought six bags and a ten-dollar bag of marijuana. I had shoveled just as much snow as he did but, when we got back to my house, he wanted to piece off my portions instead of just giving me three bags and keeping three bags for himself. Me, being Valerie, I was not having it. Therefore, I told him to give me my portion, keep the marijuana, and get out of my house. At that time my aunt was living with me. She slept downstairs and we were upstairs in my bedroom. He was aware that my aunt was downstairs, so he gave me what I asked for and left. My aunt was a Christian woman and, after Tyrone left, I can remember going downstairs and asking her to pray for me. It was funny, but not really, because her prayer was that God would free me from committing fornication, not crack. cocaine.  However, this was my fault; I should have been specific as to what I needed prayer for.  

                                                                                        

One night while driving in my car, I was looking to sell a gold chain at a crack house. I was on this quest because my connections were not interested in buying it from me. I rode around asking if anyone was interested in the chain. I met a guy on the street who knew where I could go and sell it for some crack. I let this strange man in my car and off we went. We had to go to a couple of his connections before we hit the jackpot. Once our goal was accomplished, I was ready for him to get out of my car. Well, of course he wanted me to share with him, but I was not willing to do this, because it was my chain, therefore it was my crack. He refused to get out of my car, so I got out. How stupid was that? I was fairly new to the neighborhood, therefore, I did not know where I was. I hid the crack in my shoe, called the police from my cell phone. I told them where I was, that I had been car jacked, and that I had no idea how to get back home. As I walked down the street, the police arrived and took my report and dropped me off at home. Thinking back, I am sure the officers knew exactly what had happened to my car, because I was not in a panic and my story did not add up. When my car was recovered, I felt so violated that I gave it away.

Finally, I had enough. I knew it was time to get help before something really bad happened to me. I do not remember how I became connected to “Great Faith Ministries,” but I began to attend their church. The church van would pick me up for the services. I was still smoking, but not as much as I would normally smoke. I began to cry out to God. As I cried out to Him, I remember telling Him this was a nine-one-one call. That night, when I arrived at church, I had tears in my eyes, even before I got in the door; I had no idea that this was going to be my night for deliverance. When I went up for prayer, an elder took us to the basement to pray for those who had come to the altar. After everyone was prayed for, including me, it was time to go home. When I refused to leave the elder came and had a one-on-one talk with me. I told him all that I had been though. He smiled and prayed for me again, and assured me that I would never smoke crack or marijuana again. I was so happy, and I trusted his word, and believed he was a true man of God. When I got on to van to go home, the Lord spoke these words to me. “There is a difference between getting delivered, and being delivered, and today my daughter, you have been delivered.” Hallelujah!

 

Knowing there was a calling on my life, I went back to church. As I began to work in the ministry, God called me to preach to “Good News of Jesus Christ.” I received my ministerial license in 2009. God had anointed me to prophesy, and I have the gift of helping as well. In the fall of 2009, I went back to school and in the spring of 2011, I graduated and received my associate’s degree in Liberal Arts, with a macro transcript from Wayne County Community College. When I first enrolled at Madonna University, my plans were to obtain my bachelor’s degree in Sign Language Studies with a minor in Religious Studies. Much to my surprise, mastering American Sign Language was more difficult than I expected. After meeting with one of the mentors provided by the Madonna University TRIO office, it was evident that my niche was with non-profit organizations. Therefore, I changed my major to sociology and my minor to gerontology. I received a 4.0 for the fall semester of 2011 and the winter semester of 2012. In the winter of 2013, I received a 3.5. My cumulative GPA is 3.590. I am a member of the Sigma Phi Omega Honors Society and the Chi Alpha Epsilon Honors Society as well. Today, as I emerged from my cocoon, I am a beautiful butterfly, and the world is my oyster.