The Grace of God

Chapter Sixteen - What Followed and the Mistake..

I couldn't go back home.... the foster parents were forbidden keeping me in their home and under their care as they had let me be in great immanant danger, and they and I would be held in court. The police had searched the house but only found the drugs of the foster parents - paul had put all of mind in a bag and buried it under the ground (in order to protect me, out of fear but also out of the greatest love!) and paul had said quite rightly that I had become to substances from other people we knew of.... but that I did not personally know them really, just akwaintances... I said that was serious to lie to the police but Paul insisted he would explain in due tie, once he had figured out how... As I had said, I didn't want to be a pressure to him on the sofa of his small shared apartment with the dog, so I offered to go into a homeless shelter, and from there i would go to the job center and get job seekers alliance, and search for a housing benefit and pay for my own place.
Paul supplied the cards as soon as I went to see him... and I filled them in and Paul promised driving to drop them all off that afternoon. This was first thing in the morning, and I was in my older brother pauls home, when he offered me cocaine again, now I had my methadone and other mecicines, but i took.... i shouldn't have, but i thought just a slightly higher dose than the dose i was on medically would be fine, and it turned out that it was too much, and i didn't tell paul what i was going through but i guess he noticed that i couldn't remember a word he was saying to me.... every word i forgot as soon as he said it, and i kept asking him to repeat and i still had no idea what he was saying, and i didn't feel happy but majorly depressed, which was the oposite to what cocaine was meant to do, and paul said i was having a bad trip, but as it turned out I really was allergic to the drugs now, as the hospita had said and could only manage so much in my tollerance before a detrimental reaction happened. i refused anymore lest it take my life again.... in a fog I left Pauls and went to the homeless shelter, and i took a lot more methadone, and it eventually passed and i was cured, and i looked up and saw jesus Christ with his hand on my forhead, curing me and healing me... and so I sat outside on the bench near the entrence of the shelter, and Prayed. I was preparing a parable of the prodigal son ready for my baptism, and already somebody had offered me cannabis and other substances, but i only took the cannabis knowing it was medicine.... i refused the drugs ever again if i could at all help it... was i strong enough to do that?
Anyway I wasn't taking the weed..... I was just sipping at strongbow and Guiness and smoking, my usual rebellious acts, when suddenly.... Christopher Reed got out of his car on the road of the homeless shelter and walked up to me waving with a big smile on his face and I yelled out, "You wont believe it! Actually, you will! jesus saved my life again!!!"
"Tell me everything, my boy." smiled Christopher, speaking to me, and he sat down and said, "and you don't think i'm going to let you stay here in a place like that, do you?"