A lost Cajun crosses the border into Mexico and returns home a new man.
I was born in Charity Hospital in New Orleans and momma and daddy brought me home on public transit to the housing project.
We grew up in the church, but it wasn’t working for me. Like I said, I’d be praying, but what I was praying is, “Lord, please let this priest finish this so I can hurry up, get my 12-pack, get back home, watch the Saints, and get drunk.”
Things got so bad at my house that I was reduced to living in the garage at my home. My wife wanted nothing to do with me.
It wasn’t too long after that the church had planned a men’s trip to Mexico. Well, my thinking, as a man of the world was, “You know, hey, I’ve never been to Mexico before, and for $200, it can’t be bad. I’ll to do the church thing in the day, then I’ll go out to the city and I’ll do my thing at night – check out the senioritas, drink some Tequila, eat some worms and see what they’re smoking in Mexico these days.”
On the third night, we went to another little mission church out in the country. At the end of the service, the preacher did an altar call.
Everyone in the church stood up and came forward. The preacher went from our church, there was also a preacher from Baton Rouge, Louisiana, and he asked to have the Americans pray.
It didn’t matter that we didn’t know Spanish, or they didn’t know English, just go ahead and pray whatever the Lord puts on your heart.
But, I’m like, what do you want me to say? “Our Father, Hail Mary, God bless you! If you’re going to take a trip, check with St. Christopher, and if you loose something, I think St. Jude is the guy to go to.” What do you want me to tell’em?
My eyes caught this lady’s eyes – an elderly lady – and it was like two magnets. Something pushed, pulled, drug me to this lady…and it started happening.
The Lord gave me the Holy Spirit, then He started taking things away.
I was on three legal medicatations. That night when I went back to the room, I felt like I no longer needed them, I threw them in the garbage can and said, “Doctor God, my life is in your hands – physically and mentally, and financially.
I got home and told my wife about what had happened and she was like, “Hmm.”
I said, “I don’t drink any more.” And she was like, “Okay.”
I said, “I don’t do drugs any more.” And she was like, “Alright, we’ll see.”
And, its been two and half years now, and, its gone, its gone. He took away the anger, he took away the hatred, he took away the foul mouth…
Excerpted from “The Journey” filmed on location in New Orleans, Louisiana and produced by K. Lynn Lewis.