MERANDA'S STORY

I grew up in a town called Prince George. It’s fairly isolated and very cold. Lots of winter, as it’s in northern BC. I grew up a single parent home. My mother raised me since my dad chose to not be present. My mom and dad both had just turned 19 when I was born. I knew growing up that my family was different from other families. It wasn’t until later in life that I learned my maternal grandmother was a Residential School survivor. Now, I mention this because it helps to make sense of the dysfunction in my family. Majority of us have drug and alcohol abuse issues.

When I was a young girl, I loved being outside. We had horses in one of the many houses we lived in, and I loved playing with them and caring for them. I was always outside riding my bike or using my rollerblades, and in the many months of winter, building snowmen and sledding. As I got older, I became more aware and curious about marijuana. I already knew what it was, and smelled like due to having older cousins around all the time. I was 11 the first time I tried it. As the years went on, and I grew, so did my curiosity. I had tried a few different drugs and began to do them with increasing frequency by the time I was 17. Come 18, I was doing assorted drugs every weekend, and sometimes during the week.

My mom and I had a tumultuous relationship growing up. We fought a lot and one of her “solutions” was to kick me out of the house. I stayed at a number of different places, but the most visited, and most impactful, was a much older friend of mine. Her and I started drinking a lot together, which eventually led to doing drugs together. My first time trying cocaine was with her. After a few years of that, she introduced me to meth. I noticed she had lost a lot of weight, and me being a little overweight, was curious how she did it. In a moment of weakness, I tried it. That brought on a whole new world. A different degree of people, places, and things. My downfall was a gradual process. Once meth was in the scene though, it quickened and things got significantly worse. In a matter of 6 months or so, I was arrested 4 times. The second time garnered a weekend in jail, but then I got bail. The 3rd time, bail again. The 4th time, no bail. This time, it stuck. They were bad charges, and a lot of them.

It took me easily 6-9 months to even accept the fact that I was going to be in there for a long time. There was no escaping my poor life decisions anymore. The life I was living in jail was a mockery of real life. Remand was intense. All the jail politics, awkward and strained relationships with other inmates, constantly looking over your shoulder. One of the worst parts for me was the lack of control. You’re told when to eat, sleep, move. Told what to think. You can’t talk to your family unless you call them, or they come to visit after being approved. Call times are limited to 30 mins and you have to pay for each call placed. There’s also the added pressure of 8+ girls trying to use the phone in the limited time you are out of the cell. Jail mentality was a hard thing to let go of once I was back in the real world.

I was at that remand centre for 23 months. It took nearly a year for the trial to start. Trial itself was a prolonged and stressful time. Sitting in that courtroom day after day, not able to say anything about what really happened. It was awful. Everytime I came back to the jail from court I would have to do a strip search. Strip searches consisted of me getting completely naked and bending over in front of a female guard. I have done it too many times to count, and each was as humiliating as the last. I ended up getting convicted at the end of trial. It was pretty unexpected and I felt the blood drain from my face when the verdict was read. I

remember turning around and telling my family that I was sorry. After that happened, it took another year to get sentenced. In the end, I got the mandatory minimum sentence of 5 years. It didn’t take me long to realize I had to go to the penitentiary.

I was at my absolute worst sitting alone in those cells. That was my official rock bottom. I needed something to help me. Something to fill that void. When I was at that remand centre, I learned that you could do Bible studies via correspondence. I was trying to impress the judge by getting as many certificates as I possibly could. As I was learning all the Bible had to offer, all the love that God was offering to me, specifically, I felt some change. A desire to change. I wanted to be a better person. I wanted to forgive myself. I wanted all the things the Bible had promised. Salvation? Yes! Redemption? Yes! Forgiveness? Absolutely!

When I had moved to the penitentiary, I really leaned into my new found faith. I NEEDED something to keep me going. I went to church whenever it was offered, and also signed up for all the programs being offered in the chapel (which was just a little room). I learned there was a program starting up and after a quick description of what it was, I excitedly put my name down. The ladies brought snacks, we watched little videos, and we had some great conversations. The lady mostly leading it was named Roxana from Harvest Prison Ministries. And I quickly knew she was someone I wanted to grow a relationship with. The rest of the ladies, from a local church, were equally genuine and sincere. It had been a long time since I was treated like a human, like more than just an inmate or offender or a number. I didn’t realize how badly I needed that. It truly was a breath of fresh air.

I contacted Harvest when I was in treatment. We were allowed out on passes once in a while, if we were good and it was approved. I went to Living Waters Church with Roxana and met her family, and had a little reunion with all the others that helped me when I was inside. They made me feel so welcomed. I had decided to get released to a halfway house in New Westminster, BC, so I didn’t have the physical support of my family anymore. When I was first attending the church, I felt really out of place. I felt like a bit of a fraud, honestly. Through Harvest I had a new support system with the volunteers and my newfound friends at Living Waters. After going there for nearly a year - I felt I was being called to get baptized. It didn’t take long to arrange, as they did it every summer, and summer was coming up fast. I prepared a page long testimony, and I was the first to go. I very nervously, in front of the whole church, shared my testimony. I told complete strangers and some new friends that I had been to prison. I was nervous about being judged. I was nervous about not being welcomed back. But the result was a lot different. Way better than I could have anticipated. The youth pastor, Rebeca, is a good friend of mine now. Two other pastors actually helped me to get a good job as a barista in a fancy coffee shop. I’m still there to this day and have recently been promoted to Manager.

I’ve made some drastic changes myself, and my life is also a lot different these days. In addition to having a full time job, and being a first time manager, I have a really great relationship with my father now...something I truly thought would never happen. My mom and I have also resolved a lot of our issues. I have an amazing and supportive boyfriend. He accepts me for all that I am and doesn’t judge me based on my past. We’ve been together for nearly 2 years now, and have talked about marriage. I’m considering what I want to take in school, and what I want as a career. None of these things would have been made possible without the help and support of Harvest and everyone who is in my life to this day.