There’s a bad man we all know and put up with, and he beats his wife and children. Everyone knows it. They don’t know it because someone told them, they know it because they aren’t morons. His wife used to show up with black eyes and bruises, saying she ran into a door (do all women use this excuse?) and his children would sometimes let it slip that their dad beats them. To be clear, this was all in 2001, during very difficult times when much was going on all at once.
Back in 2001 before I moved to Ottawa I was asked in haste, after a long day of work to give a reference for this person, to save his life really, more so begged to give him a good reference. He promised he was a changed man, so I gave a quick “he’s not so bad, this whole thing has been blown out of proportion” type reference. This saved his sorry ass, and later I would find out that he was 10x worst than I thought.
Growing up, I myself fell through the cracks as did many of my friends. Daily punches, cuts on bruises all over. Bloody noses, bumps on my head were normal. Peel police would get to know me by name, and I would get to know some of them by name, since they were at my house so often.
Good teachers would often ask about cuts and bruises and I would make up excuses, and my friends who were in the same situation would trade war stories.
Girls always had it 100 times worst though, and their war stories were the worst. Being abused by their moms boyfriends while being videotaped or prostituted out by their crack head moms to strangers. It made me and my guy friends think that things weren’t really so bad for us after all. We got used to seeing social services and hearing and saying lies upon lies. You’d visit a friends house and social services would show up, or you’d visit my house and the police would show up. I wouldn’t even invite someone to my house until I knew what their home life was. If they had a good home life, they wouldn’t be invited to mine because they wouldn’t understand. Same with them, I couldn’t be invited to some peoples house until they knew what mine was like.
White people, black people, brown people, everyone had it rough in one way or another. In grade 7 I kept a photo of a picture perfect home in my pocket, looking at it to make me happy. One time in grade 7 I was planning on teaching this one bully a lesson as I was known to do, and my super duper awesome teacher Mrs. Prates told us all that we should be nice to him, a young thug, because his dad beats him, and we hazed her because we were all being beaten but he was the only wimp that let the teachers know. Mrs. Prates is one of my favorite teachers to this day, but this was all way over her head.
When I was 7 I slept with a heavy metal flashlight, by the time I was 11 I slept with a trusty switchblade. By the time I was 13 I had several weapons. One time my boss at Pickwicks Potatoes drove me home from Dr. Fleas Flea Market and there were 4 police cruisers at my house. It shocked the crap out of him, a middle aged Jew, but me, a 13 year old Muslim had a list of about 75 great excuses as to why they were there and I said my lie with a smile and went back to work the next weekend as if nothing happened. It was the only way to survive at the time.
About 2 years later I stopped smiling. My list of great excuses began to anger me, I was getting older and growing, but things were very much the same at home. One very early morning I woke up hearing the angry screamings of my mom and her boyfriend, and I figured I would save the police another trip to our house by taking care of the situation myself. I grabbed my trusty Louisville slugger, and kicked down her door swinging the bat at both of them, and I clearly threatened to kill them both. My exact words were something along the lines of “I’m going to kill you, and I’m going to kill you, if you don’t stop this crap and grow the f up.” Now for those of you who know me, you know I don’t use that kind of language under normal circumstance. There’s just something about family that brings out the crazy in everyone.
There’s a sort of freedom you gain when you threaten to kill someone and really mean it. And I’m not joking, I would have actually killed them both that warm summer morning, and lived happily ever after knowing I made the world a better place. To be fair, I now know that her life was much harder than mine.
Fast forward to today, we’ve all given our life to Jesus, my moms home is the place ALL my friends like to hang out. There’s peace, joy, food, laughter, fun stories (ask her about the time I ate my own poo) and just general goodwill. Shes known as the super cool mom and I’m known as the lucky son. She takes in everyone, all the teens in town and there’s always fun stories and joy to be had. Just a few nights ago she called me asking if I can help her out, she took out several teen girls and boys bowling or something like that, and there was some project they wanted to do that would really help them out but cost too much. The teens were super excited and I was really happy to be a part of it all. Only Jesus can spark these kinds of changes.
I heard in the news that churches are in decline in Canada because people no longer believe in God. This is a lie. This is a complete lie made up by liberal media and the liberal government. Churches are in decline in Canada because people do believe in God, and they are scared out of their mind that if they or their children go to church, people will find out what’s going on in their homes. An atheists worst nightmare is when they will one day face the God they’ve been pretending to not believe in. But we’re all going to have to face Him one day.