"Hear-her-whine, Heroin Heroine!"

“Hear-her-whine” defined~
1 a : a prolonged high-pitched cry usually expressive of distress or pain b : a sound resembling such a cry2 : a complaint uttered with or as if with a whine
3 : the act of listening to a woman complain, cry and mourn over any situation
4 : “My Story”

“Heroin” defined~
1 a: a strongly physiologically addictive narcotic C21H23NO5 that is made by acetylation of but is more potent than morphine and that is prohibited for medical use in the United States but is used illicitly for its euphoric effects

“Heroine” defined~
1 a : a mythological or legendary woman having the qualities of a hero b : a woman admired and emulated for her achievements and qualities2 a : the principal female character in a literary or dramatic work b : the central female figure in an event or period

What you are about to read is a story. It is a true story. It is part of “My Story.” I do not know how the story ends…I am only just beginning how it started. You must understand the terms that are defined above for true clarification of this tidbit of my life. You must also be aware that this ties into my study of “Trusting God.” Hang on with me for the ride as I cling to My Saviour, who is the designer of this coaster we call life. Here goes:

I don’t know why. I don’t know how. All I know is that “it is and has been” a part of my life. Where exactly did it begin? Heroin in my life.
Well, I thought it all started when I had a boyfriend from the time I was 15 until I was 21. His mother was a heroin addict. She wouldn’t come home for days…sometimes weeks. I would listen to my boyfriend’s frustration over this. He would tell me, ashamedly, that we could drive down to Lyell and see her prostituting herself for money to get the drugs if we wanted to find her. (I promise you I saw her.) He reacted much different than his brother to her addiction. He was an angry, violent, rebellious kind of guy and he just accepted this about his mom. His brother on the other hand, dealt w/it completely different. He just ran around worried about her all the time and constantly told everyone, “Smile! Be Happy! J” That is until one day—he took his life and left behind a note asking his mother to understand that her illness/addiction was so serious that he took his own life because of the pain he was carrying around and the burden she had placed on him. I will never forget the events of that day or any of that part of my life. Today, 16 years later, his mother is still a heroin addict. (Will you pray for them?)

At the ages of 19 thru 23, I worked a job at a paving company where I became friends w/one of the construction guys. I was in awe of this man because of his physical appearance and because of his age. He was about ten years older than me, divorced and had a son who he adored. He became an older brother to me and we would talk at work all of the time about his life. He would always ask me if I drank and did drugs. He would tell me to stay away from “the hard stuff” because it would ruin me and I had so much potential he wanted me to live up to. He told me how his life was ruined. His marriage. His career. His potential. All shot because he became a heroin addict and eventually became a crack addict.

At the age of 30, my high school friend came to church and asked me to help him. He said his wife had an affair on him, she became a drug addict and he needed help w/his kids and his life. He began attending regularly for a while and then his wife started attending as well. They went ahead w/the divorce and she continued to struggle w/her addictions. I opened my home to her for 2-3 weeks to help her sort her life out and so she could come to Jesus and find some hope along w/love. We talked and talked about her habit and how heroin and cocaine became her mixture of choice. She explained to me why—which I couldn’t comprehend (having never tried either drug myself) and I continued to pray for her. Months went by, now years, and she is on her way to recovery after several inpatient and outpatient treatments which will continue for as long as only the Lord knows. (She is doing a methadone clinic type of recovery.) I had lost touch with her for a year now and the other day I was able to speak to her on the phone. Then on Sunday, she came to our new church. Praise God. J I told her I am writing “My story” and I want her to sit along side me and teach me so much more about this addiction. She is looking forward to helping me understand more because there was a day that I understood I had a calling to help her. (Will you pray for her?)

At 31 years old, I went to my parent’s house one night and decided to do “movie night” with them. Typically this consists of some sort of Andy Griffith rerun or some bomb exploding, die hard kinda flick. This night was different. We watched some movie based on Johnny Cash’s life. I had no idea who this man was at the beginning of the movie—other than I remember my two, little, old grandmothers getting all “dolled up” to see him perform when he came to Rochester. By the end of this movie, I began to understand what the media would have me believe was the life and struggle of a Heroin addict. His best friend, companion and later on his wife, June, battled it out alongside him until he finally beat his addiction. Wow--To be June!!!!

I met a guy and began a friendship with him. On our first meeting, he felt compelled to reveal his true inner self to me. He was a recovering heroin addict who was on a different type of medication to reduce the cravings. I watched as he struggled not being able to afford his prescriptions ($600 a month—to stay off of heroin—for a suboxene type of recovery.) Over a period of time, I began to understand much more clearly the battle that these addicts face. They want to be clean but they need some sort of relief. They want to take their meds but they are limited by insurance and income struggles. There are stomach aches, sweats, crazy thoughts and feelings of helplessness—almost a drowning, no-control sort of feeling. I tried to encourage his walk w/the Lord. I cried for him. I cried w/him. I prayed for some sort of comfort. I tried to be “his June.” (Will you keep this guy in your prayers too?)

Then I called up the guy I used to work w/at the paving company and asked him to have lunch with me. We talked about suboxene, we talked about meth, we talked about clonondine (sp?) and other types of recovery. I asked him why he wasn’t helping those like my new friend that struggle w/their addiction? I mean, why me? Why a girl who has never used this drug help all these people w/their struggle that I know nothing first-hand about? I asked him, since he professes Christianity and sobriety, to pray about aiding people. I begged him to begin sharing his story so that my friends could have hope. To do what I do but being able to empathize w/these people—whereas I cannot. He said he would pray about it…that was 8 months ago. I saw his mother two weeks ago at Wal-mart and she said that she would tell him I said hello and that I was still praying for him. This past Sunday at church, his mom came up to me to tell me that he made a phone call to FBBC and wants to get back to being discipled. (Will you pray for him?)

So, I continue all of these one-sided friendships-where I pour my heart into these people that prefer “to be bloodless and numb and orbit the sun” (that’s truly one of their responses). And I bring their pain and agony to the throne. I pray for them. I run to them when they need me. I do not understand this burden in my heart or the compassion that I have within me.

Not over yet.

I am a ladies softball. I am standing on 3rd base. A fellow-sister hollers to me… “Hey, you ever done drugs?” Appalled, I look back at her and say… “Um…we are in the middle of a game…for a church league…and you obnoxiously ask me a question like that—to which you already know the answer.” She says, “Ever do heroin?” I miss the play at third now… turn to her and reply, “No! But, boy can I tell you a ton about it. Why are you asking me this?” At the end of the game, we talk and she tells me that her cousin, who just had a baby, has been using for over 40 days straight! She asks me what can she do to help her, what programs are there, how can her family get thru this, who do they call? I give her over ten phone numbers that her family can contact and tell her “My Story” (to which I still do not understand or know completely). I praise God that maybe all of my life I had gone thru all of this….for such a time like this. (Please keep this family in your prayers. Would you?)

Not done.

So I begin to do this trusting God study and it dawns on me that heroin addicts are so prevalent in my life. I completely freak out and decide that God must be preparing me to trust Him because one of my kids will grow up to be a junkie…a heroin addict! I convince myself that “this is all crazy head” and then reflect back on how many addicts have been in my life—never ever realizing it before. I do not understand the correlation but I do know that I believe in the sovereignty of God and His providence.

I am struggling. Struggling w/a broken heart. I know—pathetic-Give it to God-move on and go forward. If only it was as easy as it sounded. (Anyway that’s another story that will never be published or finished.) So, I decide to go away on vacation w/my children before the summer is over. We go to Allegany State Park where my “real father’s sister” lives in the next town. I figure, I’ll go visit her and let her see my kids while I am so close by. (I have a very minimal relationship w/this side of the family—she is the only one I talk to and have not seen my “real dad” since I was twelve.) It was a nice time. I returned home, ready to get the victory over this stupid heart of mine and called my mother. I had a question for her…something I had never asked her in all my 33 years. I said, “Mom, I am trying to understand me. I have a very important question which will help me. Please don’t add anything or ask any questions, please just say yes or no. Can you do that?” My mother sat silent for a moment and said, “Ok”. The question: “Was my real father a heroin addict?” The answer was “Yes.”

This is all making more sense to me. Some innate feeling inside me ever since I was young has made me try to get “the attention of an addict to love me” or to be their “saving grace.” I have never even known that my father used heroin. I only knew that I always wanted him to love me and he couldn’t or just wouldn’t.

I know this though---I am still right where I began 33 years ago—yet 33 years worth of steps forward.

I tried to call a high school friend on Friday. I dialed the wrong friend’s number but still had dialed a friend and decided to chat anyhow. I told this lady friend of my recent discovery about myself and you know what she said? She said, “You may have thought you dialed the wrong number because you were trying to call someone else, but you dialed the right number cuz God wanted you to talk to me.” I wasn’t sure where she was going w/this…then she said, “Did my daughter or I ever tell you how her father died? He died of complications due to his heroin addiction.”

I wept. I do not know if the Lord is calling me to be a counselor or a friend. I do not know what the Lord is doing…but it is so Him that is doing something throughout my whole entire life. You just read it. I’ve lived it.

I have a quote written in my Bible that I noticed two days ago. It was said by a man w/the last name of Jarvis when he came to FBBC. “The Lord will not call you for anything that He won’t prepare and equip you to complete.”

I look forward to seeing my “Trusting God” continue to develop. I look forward to seeing how the Lord will continue to equip me for this calling (whatever it may be). And I praise Him for preparing me thus far.

And now you have “Heard-her-whine, Heroin Heroine!”