In the Valley of Dry Bones
“It was God’s way of getting my attention. Had I recovered quickly, I would’ve gone back to the streets and my self-destructive ways.” — By Larry
I lived on the streets for about 16 years . . . that is, if you can call it “living.” Mostly, I was just wandering from place to place, looking for drugs and booze, a bite to eat, and a place to sleep in peace.
I saw people get beaten and robbed. I saw people die — of overdoses, from violence, and from exposure to the elements. It was hard, but I also became hardened to it. When you live on the streets, you forget what real life is like. You forget what you lost.
It’s like Ezekiel’s vision of the valley of dry bones. You look at people on the streets, and there’s just no life there. All they’ve ever had is dead and gone.
But it was the only life I knew. I figured I’d probably die on the streets, too. But like Ezekiel’s dry bones, I was destined for new life . . . but not until after I got run over by a truck.
God slowed me down
It was August 29, 2011. I had a part-time job, and I had worked all night long. I was dead tired, and I fell asleep in a parking lot. Next thing I knew, a truck was driving over me. My leg got caught up in the drive shaft, and I could hear my bones cracking . . . then my ribs . . . then my skull.
I spent the next six months at Grady Hospital. My heart had been crushed, so they put me in an induced coma so it could heal. I later learned that my leg had been broken in six places, my hip in four places, my ribs in three places, my shoulders were dislocated, and my skull was cracked.
It’s a miracle that I didn’t die.
I was in the hospital and physical therapy for almost two years. I think it was God’s way of slowing me down and getting my attention. Had I recovered quickly, I would’ve gone back to the streets and my self-destructive ways.
I asked God to help turn my life around, and someone suggested Atlanta Mission. So I went, and things started looking up. It became sort of the command center for my life — physically, emotionally, spiritually.
Atlanta Mission taught me to fully rely on God, who promises to supply all our needs. He certainly put all the right people in place to help me — the doctors and nurses who put me back together, the people at Atlanta Mission who have helped me grow in the Lord. My faith has been reaffirmed. I connect with God every day.
Like Ezekiel’s dry bones, I came back to life, thanks to Atlanta Mission. And thanks to you and your support. Thank you!
Stories like this are a direct result of your kindness. The lives of men, women, and children are being transformed every day at Atlanta Mission. Thank you for your continued support!