Psalm 16:1-2 (NIV)-Keep me safe, my God, for in you I take refuge. I say to the LORD, “You are my Lord; apart from you I have no good thing.” I say.

It was 1978, when I was dying of a cocaine overdose. It was not my intention to die that night in this manner. It was the night before the birth of Jesus Christ. I have had many encounters with death in my neighborhood. During my childhood, death touched others but not me. My encounter was to come years later. This Christmas Eve, it was a personal encounter. It had been so many dying in difficult situations. It would not serve my purpose to recall those experiences now. What I do remember is that Christmas Eve when I was twenty-one. I lived above the red-light district a few blocks for Dupont Circle where men were in search of prostitutes. I was not looking for a prostitute. Instead, I was trying to get away from the inner-city life. It was not by a gunshot wound or stabbing by a knife that brought me horror this night. 

Now death was touching me, reaching for me. The snowflakes danced outside my window. It reminded me of my younger years.  Snowflakes would land on my tongue.  It was my last memory of childhood before it all went bad. Now, for a split second, there was peace and light that would turn into darkness. I crawled from my bed to the floor in search of air. I crawled back into the bed in search of air. My chest was as if it was an explosion inside of me. The room began to fade into black, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. Fear moved into my mind and body. The fear of dying into a blackhole. 

I had a friend in my childhood for many years. We walked the inner-city streets together. Walking in alleys to avoid the violence and the people associated with it. My introduction to Jesus was by my foster mother Dee. She sang hymns while listening to the AM radio station playing gospel music. Her flower dresses didn't hide her wounds from diabetes.  Her arthritic fingers brought her pain. She had been washing clothes for many winters. The old, rusted ringer washing machine, on the porch floor covered with snow. I would listen to hear while she spoke about Jesus. Day and night Jesus was what she knew about. Fallen asleep still hymning to Jesus. All this talk about God and Jesus left me wondering who Jesús was? In addition, who was God, and what did he know? In my mind, I questioned what He knew? Maybe he knew that I was afraid living in that neighborhood? Maybe he knew I wanted to be with him? Noise and gunfire and endless screams. Where was this Jesus Dee talked about so much?

Amidst all this chaos and turmoil there were moments of peace and quiet within me. My aunt Lucille took me to Holy Redeemer Catholic church for morning mass each day. I was eleven and found a different relationship with Jesus. Sitting in the pew in an empty church. The light of the votive candles in red, blue, and yellow colorful glasses. The altar candle flame flicked. There was tranquility now. It was so peaceful sitting there before having to go back into the war zone. However, this sense of peace stayed with me. Until, Christmas night at twenty-one. The war returned for me. I hadn't escaped. I felt the terror of all those years coming to life. A confused mind and a heart racing. Where was Jesus who had walked with me?      

I wanted Jesus, I needed Jesus, I pleaded with Jesus. Oh, that eternal suffering like in childhood. It was frightening without my friend. Dying without my friend. However, leaving the church after praying it was different. There was a sense of serenity which evaporated slowly. It slowly creeped into my existence in this moment of crawling on the floor. My existence began to slip away. It had all returned and I had not escaped.  I wanted to escape the streets and not die in childhood. However, I was dying in a rooming house alone. My body would be found and taken to the morgue. I had watched children taken that final ride in that black car as the crowd watched. All those sleepless nights back then. Those black cars with the certain closed. I wanted this Jesus Dee spoke about. I wanted God to know I wasn't ready to die back then and not now. 

"Please, God Save me" was my prayer. Finally, Christmas morning snowflakes gently fell.  Inside my mind and emotions, I was feeling disoriented, which seemed to last for years. Nothing made sense. I wasn't sure if I had survived. I prayed to God to stay with me. I wanted my friend. I wanted Jesus. The night of the demons had passed. Salvation and Redemption came to me. A promise my promise to follow Jesus Christ. My life now has meaning and purpose unlike that Christmas Eve. It has taken forty-five years to understand what Dee always knew and I knew the Jesus Dee always talked about.

Dear Heavenly Father, you did not forsake me. My night of despair you loved me. My heart belongs in your sanctuary where there is peace.  Amen.