BVOV Magazine 2013 - present

“When I was around 8 years old, my aunt started taking us to a Pentecostal church. It was a little, rustic, white adobe church in Juárez. The benches were old and scarred. The cement was broken and cracked. But the people were happy, always praising God. I loved sitting up front and listening to the pastor. “Although I didn’t know what it meant to be born again, I made a profession of faith. My mother was sober and that was the happiest year of my life. Then she started drinking again and it all fell apart. By the time we lived in Fort Worth, she was so out of control that she’d drink anything—even cologne or rubbing alcohol.” Alone and Rejected Sixteen-year-old Sergio searched the park benches, bars and brothels of Fort Worth for his mother. He was used to her disappearing acts, but this time she hadn’t come home. Worry furrowed his brow. Had she gone on a binge with the wrong man? Was she dead? Might she be lying in a hospital somewhere? Maybe she’d been arrested. Frantic, Sergio wondered what would happen to them if she didn’t return. How would they survive alone in a foreign country? Finally, news trickled back from Mexico. Their mother had been spotted. She’d returned to Juárez—without them. “Look,” Sergio told his younger brother, “we’re illegal aliens. Even though we’re both working, we don’t make enough to keep a roof over our heads. We’ve got to get back to Mexico!” The boys pooled their money and bought a little car for $400. Although neither of them knew how to drive, they figured it couldn’t be that hard. Laying a map across the scarred kitchen table, they mapped their journey. Packing their few belongings, they slipped out of the house and drove to El Paso. From there they crossed the border into Juárez. Months later, 17-year-old Sergio sat at a bar when one of his cousins sidled up beside him. “I just saw your mother.” Something cold coursed through Sergio’s veins. “Was she dead?” “Yeah.” “Where was she?” “In the street.” The Cycle Repeats Itself “I sat there crying, feeling an awful mixture of sorrow and relief,” Sergio recalls. “I was so tired. I felt like I’d spent my whole life trying to keep my mother alive, and failed. She was only in her early 50s when she died alone in the street. As sad as I felt at the loss, I was ashamed to also feel such relief. I drank all night without stopping. “That was a turning point in my life. I’d experimented with drugs while living in Fort Worth, but after her death I spiraled out of control. I knew I was following in her footsteps, but felt powerless to stop. I fell captive into an abyss of drugs and alcohol that lasted for 20 years. “Two years after my mother died, my father also died of alcoholism. By then, I was a full-blown cocaine addict. I married and had children but, like my mother, I couldn’t sustain a relationship. Unlike her, I always worked and held a job. Unlike my father, I made it a point to stay involved in the lives of my children. Many times I overdosed on cocaine and almost died. My life was like a runaway train and those kids were the only thing that kept me alive.” One day Sergio arrived to pick up his kids for a weekend visit. One of his sons looked at him in disgust. “Are you ever going to stop using drugs? I don’t want to be around you anymore.” ******ADVERTISEMENT****** “Partnership is designed by God to dramatically increase the abilities, resources & rewards of every believer.” —Kenneth Partner with KCM today! 1-800-600-7395 (U.S. only) +1-817-852-6000 *********************************** MAR '14 : BVOV : 25

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