A schizophrenic, homeless drug addict calls out to
Mary, beginning an ascent from the streets to the life
of a happy, healthy family man.
Sometimes stories of hope are what one needs to keep going, to keep, believing, to keep striving in the face of incredible odds, pain, suffering, and opposition. Goran’s story is one such true tale. It reminds us that no person, no situation is beyond hope, for when we call out to Mary to intercede for us, anything is possible. Here’s how Goran’s story begins . . .
I woke up again. Who knows how long I’d been unconscious. This time I’d downed a bunch of pills, a bottle of vodka, and a shot of heroin; but trying to kill myself never seemed to work.
Shivering, I crawled across the floor of the derelict, windowless building I’d wandered into and pulled a sheet of plastic over my dying body. I just wanted to rest. Unable to sleep for months, I only traveled in and out of nightmares.
It was the middle of winter. I was thirty years old. I had no one and nothing, not even food. As I lay on the floor, staring at the wall, I felt utterly alone—despised. Perhaps this was just another nightmare . . . but the bitter cold that cut into my bones told me otherwise. I felt dead, but I was still alive.
For the first time since I was a child, I began to cry. I tried to pray but I couldn’t remember how. I never really learned, and I hadn’t ever really tried. What were the words? Through my tears, and from the depths of my soul, I began to call out to the Mother of God . . .