Growing up on my own
When I was eight years old my mother died from complications during surgery.
It was difficult after she was gone. I was sad and hurt, but she had brought me up with a strong Christian background, which made it a little easier. At least I still had my sister, brother, and my father. He was such a great guy. My dad taught Babe Ruth baseball, and umpired games for a living.
Then, a bomb was found in the back seat of my fathers car. Luckily it didn't go off. An investigation pursued, but they had no leads. My dad would joke around and say he must have made a bad call in little league.
A few months later disaster struck! My father was blown up in the car, coming back from Turlock. I was devastated!!! I cried for months. I was so mad at God. Why did he take the two most important people in my life away from me? From that day on, the world as I knew it changed.
I went completely out of control. My grandparents tried to take care of us children for a few months, but they couldn't handle us. Then my 18 year old sister took guardianship of me. I ran with gangs, and got into so much trouble. But I didn't care if I lived or died.
I began selling drugs, and went to prison. When I was released I bounced from house to house, getting caught up in the homeless rut. I had no place to stay, no purpose for my life, so I came to the mission.
Now I am here to change my life! I want to stop hanging around the wrong people, and live without chaos. I want to live a life of peace, with God. Please pray for me. - Clinton Botteron
Train a child in the way he should go, and when he is old he will not turn from it.