Tuesday, November 11, 2014

Terry & Darlene Slobodian, August, 2014
                                     By Darlene Slobodian, Edmonton, AB
     "Jesus Christ the same yesterday, today and forever." (Hebrews 13:8). Greetings in the name of Jesus Christ!
     I came from a reservation called Cowessess located one hundred miles east of Regina. I am second generation of the Residential School issue everyone has their opinion about. All I know for sure is, the children captured and tortured were not given the tool to deal with their children. Thus My Story begins...
      As a child I was segregated  from my siblings and parents. I grew up in my bedroom, alone. When allowed out, I chopped down trees, cut the branches off, dragged them home, sawed, split and carried them into the  house. I walked one mile in the freezing Saskatchewan weather to get water to drink. I was also the "whipping boy."
      There was no reason that I was whipped. My father used to know how to blaze a belt across my back, arms and legs. He would punch me in the face, kick me in the stomach with his steel ripped shoes, and curse at me. His words cut deep - I still carry the scars of his words.
     My father was brought up in the Residential School, married early joined the Army WW11 (4 years) came back a married man. Many times he would wake up screaming. Ashamed he would reach for the bottle and call for me! My mother also, despised me. To this day I don't know the reason.
      She would lavish praise and bestow gifts on my brothers and sisters and then pick up a stick of green wood and attack me, battering my head and I woke up in the morning. She was gifted. She was a concert pianist and a beautiful soloist. She had engagements all over the world. My father was jealous and made her resign and stay at home. She was gifted much like David, when she sang - everything became beautiful.
     This is a brief description of my parents to be used as a background of my testimony, in part!
      I was about 5 years old and was walking  across the yard. My father was working on his vehicle, dropped something on his hand and began cursing. Seeing me, he picked up a board, a 2 by 2 and swung it hitting me on the side of my head. What he didn't realize, there was a nail stuck to the bottom and when it hit my head, the nail entered the hole of my ear.
     The pain was like a red hot rod stuck into my head. I fell and couldn't get up. My father ran to me yelling. I blacked out and when I came to - my brothers were holding me down, two held my legs, one my arms and one held my head. My father put his foot on the side of my face, bent down and jerked the board and nail out of my head.
    Blood shot up higher than my father. He screamed. Terror filled his eyes. I woke up the following morning. I was never taken to the Hospital but I was deaf on that side.
      I was eleven years old when I came under the same type of assault. Mind you the beatings never lessened in the meantime. My father returned from a day-long hunt with nothing and anger showed from his face - far away. I ran upstairs to my room. He no sooner banged in the door when my mother went on with her charade, "Len, do you know what Darlene has been doing?" My heart stopped.
     Banging up the stairs, he knocked open my bedroom door. He stood staring at me. Total silence. Then in one step he was right in front of me. Grabbing my blouse, he ripped half of it off. I pushed him and started running.
     I was about to run down the stairs when he slammed against the right side of my head with the butt of his rifle. I fell down the stairs (mahogany is a hard wood) hitting the banister and stairs - when I reached the bottom, I knew that this time he would be sorry, but that wasn't the case. He started kicking me in the stomach and ribs.
      I woke up on my bed. I needed water. My throat was parched. I had no recollection of what had happened, when I got up. Half of my head felt like it was filled with cotton baton and an excruciating pain filled my ear. I touched it and had to grab my mouth  and bite my hand not to scream. I still needed water so I made my way to the stairwell, walking gingerly as my ribs hurt so much - everything tipping.
     My parent's door was open and there they lay sleeping so peacefully. A cold hate filled me. "How could  they sleep when I was in so much pain?" I walked into the living room and took a double barrel shotgun down from my father's gun case. I re-entered the room with a loaded rifle that I had loaded. Looking at them I decided that I would shoot my Dad first - I wasn't scared of my mother - she'd be next.
    I cocked one barrel and aimed it at my father's head. I was putting pressure on the trigger when I heard a voice call my name, "Darlene". I stopped and listened. Then oil began to pour over me from my head to my feet. I uncocked the barrel.
     Then, I shook from the top of my head to my feet. I left the room and went back to the living room, unloaded the rifle and put it back. To this day, I never told my parents how close to death they came!
    I was 23 years old when I met Pastor Max Solbrekken. It was on a Thursday when I gave my heart, life to Jesus Christ. It was beyond me that a 'pure, clean God' could love me?! an ugly, decrepit person that no-one loved. Yet, He loved me and called me "daughter". 
    On Saturday, He filled me with His Holy Spirit with the evidence of speaking in tongues. In the Sunday morning service He healed me of cancer. That was easy! But I had a secret, I was deaf! The following service Pastor Max and others asked me: "What do you want from God?"
    I didn't want to tell in case God realized who I was and wouldn't heal me. I didn't want Pastor Max to know that God really didn't love me, so I said: "He knows." They anointed me with oil and prayed. Nothing happened. On the way home there was a warm ball on the back of each ear constantly spinning. I thought, now what?
     Three days later I was at home, when I heard a loud pop. The TV was so loud, and everyone was yelling. I made the girls go to bed. Terry began to talk and I began to cry, "Why are you yelling at me?" He said, "Darlene you can hear." I was a slow learner! "Of course I can, stupid." And then it hit me. I could hear the cars outside. I could hear the birds.
    Terry knew that I could lip-read perfectly so he made me face the window in the living room and he went into the last bedroom and whispered words which I was able to say back. God healed both of my ears, so I give you warning, be careful what you say when I'm around - I can hear you!!
    I'm happy to tell you that both my parents received Jesus into their hearts and became born again. They both asked me to forgive them, which I did. They are both at Home - with Jesus!