Train up a child in the way he should go;
even when he is old he will not depart from it.
The more I work with men that are incarcerated the more I thank God for the family He
graciously let me be born into. Not everyone has been blessed to be born into a family with both parents, and parents who were sober.
When I work with men and hear their stories, it doesn't surprise me that they end up in jail or
prison. I am not excusing what they did and not saying that incarceration wasn't necessary. Sometimes incarceration is an act of mercy. Many have told me if it wasn't for being locked up they would
probably be dead.
The following is a letter written by a young man named Dubusries. The sad truth is that
Dubusries' story isn't that uncommon. Many men and women haven't had the same opportunities that many of us have.
Please take the time to read his story and please continue to pray for those that have not been
"Trained in the way they should go". Dubusries is currently incarcerated at the Mike Durfee State Prison in Springfield, SD.
Grace and peace from God the Father, God the son, and God the Holy Spirit.
- "Not" trained in the way they should go -
I was born in Wilmington, Delaware on August
23rd, 1979. Shortly after my birth, my mother Dorothy moved to Miami, Florida. From as
far back as I can remember, my living arrangement was not exactly a paradise. I stayed in the storage room which also housed the hot water heater. This place never really felt like
There with me was my older brother Thomas, and my
younger sister, Sharon. Unfortunately, the household we lived in could be compared to a battlefield. It was in a state of constant turmoil. I felt no love from my so called 'family'. My younger
sister received the little affection this household could give.
My mother, Dorothy, worked a seasonal job in the
fields. While she was gone all I can recall is that various family members were perpetually at each other's throats. At the center of all the issues plaguing my home was, of course, drugs and
It was my mission on a day to day basis to simply
survive. Venturing out to steal was a necessary at the time. No one in my family seemed to pay any attention to me. This being said, my mother was battling a severe addiction to crack cocaine. Nobody
was around to reprimand me or my brother Thomas. Surprisingly, at school I was doing fairly well.
My first taste of drugs was at the age of 9. One day
while hanging out with my friend Rajule, I took my first puff of marijuana. The relief was instantaneous. This was my escape from the seemingly endless turmoil at home. Every day I went to Rajule's
trailer to forget my home life, because at home I was constantly accused or things that I had no knowledge of.
When I was eleven years old, life changed. My mom
met a respectable hardworking man named Luther. He was kind, and most importantly, sober. I was happy for my mother. In a devastating turn of events, my mom took my sister and left. Luther had
offered them sanctuary in Clewiston, Florida, where he worked for the city.
During the two years Thomas and I were without our
mother, things went south. My grandpa became quite violent. We were often physically beaten with a variety of objects including extension cords. No one had a clue what was going on at
At about age 13, my mom returned to retrieve Thomas
and I. This is when I began seeing just how severe my mom's addiction was. School was no longer a priority for me. I began flunking out and experimenting with cocaine. By 15 years old, I was addicted
to cocaine. To support my habit, I began stealing. Getting high was my attempt to drown the hopelessness and despair I felt inside.
After frequent run ins with the law, I was forced to
complete a treatment program at the Eckert Youth Development Center. While in placement my biological brother, Ernest, drowned to death. Anger at my inability to affect the outside world bubbled to
the surface. This led to many anger related conflicts in placement.
I eventually completed the program and moved back
with my mom and brother Thomas, who was now distributing drugs. As I tried to better myself, I found employment with World Wide Riders. It was a travelling carnival and I worked full time. Following
my employer, I went to Virginia and became homeless after a conflict over my pay.
Soon I met a man named Mike who let me stay with
him. That's when life began its slow spiral downward. While distributing marijuana, I sold to a Confidential Informant on three separate occasions. I was convicted and received 3 years, 33 months
suspended. I moved to Florida upon release.
In 2002 I caught a possession charge for cocaine
while on probation. They extradited me back to Virginia where I was violated and received every bit of time suspended. After nearly three years, I was released o February of 2005, on Valentines Day.
I moved to Richmond, Virginia. For about a year all the trouble I had was a traffic ticket. At age 26 I moved back to Florida.
Later in 2006 I returned to Virginia, where I was
convicted for having cocaine again and received 7 months' time served in county jail. Shortly after, I moved to Henrica, Virginia, where I received an embezzlement charge relating to credit card
fraud. Ten months later I was finished with my time for those charges.
In 2008 I returned to Florida. In Immokalee I began
attending GED classes in an effort to better my life. Soon I felt like I was stuck in place. So, in June 2009, I went to Preston, Maryland where I met my son's mother.
A year later in 2010, I caught a possession with the
intent to distribute charge, as well as 3 counts of forgery, all in less than a year. I was released in 2012 and completed parole in 2014. I returned shortly to Florida, and in 2015 back to
On August 31st, 2015, I left for Sioux Falls, South Dakota. Upon arrival I again got into trouble and was incarcerated. The "NOW" phase of my life is
at the Mike Durfee State Prison.
We are never outside the watchful
care of our heavenly Father.