I come from an average family, the type that spends Sundays going to church and spending quality time with each other. My parents raised us children as Protestant Christians, and we were all active members of our church. They were both part of the board of directors of our church, and my mother was also the choir director. All of us five siblings were always part of the kids’ choir, and joined the summer camps organized by our church. I was the fourth child, and we all grew up in Metro Manila.

My mother was a music teacher and ran a school for special education, while my father was a civil engineer. My mother encouraged us to work on our artistic side, taking piano, guitar, and voice lessons. I was part of a dance troupe since I was in Grade 5, and have always joined singing, writing and drawing contests.

When I entered my teenage years, “something in me” that wanted to be different from everyone else slowly came out. I wanted more to be alone, and I was. And it was easy for me to see the negative things more than the positive. When I was 13, working at a summer office job, someone tried to abuse me. And it was at this point when I decided to turn my back on the church and everything I grew up knowing about it. With all the things going on in my head as a teenager, trying to fit in, discovering who I am, and being traumatized by this attempted abuse, I decided to go on doing what I wanted. My parents were always understanding, trying to give me a normal life, but I always chose the darker ways, thinking I was the one bringing out my individuality. I started smoking, cutting classes to gamble, and soon, at 17, I got my first taste of marijuana. Getting hooked right away, I started to become indifferent to my family. I ran away during my third year in college, swearing that I would not go home until I graduated. But my brothers and sisters kept asking me to come home, so I did. I was able to graduate on time. Soon after, I started working small jobs. As I earned my own money, I also realized that I could now spend for the adventures I wanted to have for myself like traveling around the country and trying out other drugs.

After experimenting with all the smoke, pills, and hits I could find, at 27, I found myself hooked on the one drug I swore not to try – methamphetamine, or shabu, as we call it in the Philippines. Some time later, I became a single mother. I had my son Jeremiah when I was 28, and Joaquin when I was 32. Though I would be able to stop taking drugs for months at a time, I would always go back to looking for a hit. Then I tried to venture into dealing drugs and was caught by the police. I was bailed out by a friend and, thankfully, I didn’t have to stay in jail for more than a day. But I didn’t stop there.

I ran away from home several times, leaving my kids with my parents for weeks on end. I hopped from one friend’s house to another until no one would accept me anymore. I spent some time sleeping on the streets, looking for ways to eat with only a few pesos. I was so messed up doing my own thing that I took for granted the support and assistance my family was giving me. Without realizing it, I was pushing them away until I didn’t hear from them anymore. And this was when I felt most alone.

So I found the courage to come home and accept whatever consequences awaited me. My parents had already heard about Fazenda da Esperança (Farm of Hope) from the family of Joaquin’s father. So when I heard that they wanted to take me there, I said yes.

I took my recovery program from September 2014 – September 2015, and this is where the fire of my spirituality started again. After graduating, I tried to regain the trust of my family, especially my kids, and in 2016, I started working again. It was also at this time that I was chosen to be responsible for the Living Hope Group in Manila – Fazenda’s support group for graduates. For two years, I, together with another Fazenda graduate, held weekly meetings for the other boys and girls who graduated from Fazenda. Once a month, we would meet with their families, and the families of those who were still in the program, to live the Word of God and share our experiences, giving each other support, like a family. This was the time when I realized that I needed to feed my spirituality with experiences that built me up as a Christian and made me recognize Jesus in others.

By 2018, still sober and working to support my children, I was happy but felt that something in me was missing. It was always in my heart to return to Fazenda, to give back to the community that gave me the chance to have a new life. So, I made the biggest, most mature decision I had ever made in my life – move to Masbate to be a volunteer in Fazenda.

It wasn’t easy to make this decision, especially since I was responsible not only for my life, but for those of my two sons as well. But I took the leap anyway and put all my faith in God, trusting that this is His will, and that he will take care of us no matter what.

My children spoke mostly English and zero Masbateño. So, everything here was a culture shock for them. My first years as a volunteer were not easy at all. It was the life with the girls who were undergoing the program that kept me going. Knowing that I could, somehow, be a friend, a guide, or even a mother to them, helped me persevere.

Jeremiah and Joaquin, as resilient as children could be, slowly adapted to our new life there. They had their share of bullying, being the new kids in school. And I had my moments where I felt that maybe I made the wrong decision for them whenever I would see them crying or whenever they ask me when we could go home. Every time this happened, I knew that it was a time to be closer to God – to pray more fervently for guidance not only as a volunteer, but most especially as a mother. And as they grow up and experience the normal changes young boys have to go through, I find my strength every time in the Lord alone. Every mother has her own way of raising her kids. I always wanted to raise my children in a safe, free, and happy environment where they can be who they want to be, growing up in the way God intends for them. And though they would not always agree with me, I think that Fazenda is a good place for them, first of all, to grow up as Christians, knowing who Jesus is in their life and building a relationship with Him. Second, it’s a place to be free to commune with God’s creation. Fazenda is a safe haven where we could feel the presence of God through his creation, and the three of us love it! Right now, we are happy here. Even as we face our own difficulties, we know that living the present moment well is what will help us get through each day.

My life has not always been easy. Like a huge rock that needed thousands of years to break down into fine white sand at a beautiful beach, I had to go through all these weathering experiences to be able to say that, now, I can try as best as I can to be a light to others. My life is beautiful and continuous to be fruitful, knowing that I now walk in His grace. And so, I stand by our Fazenda motto: “EVERY LIFE HAS HOPE!” I was in a very dark place, alone, used, abused, and yet the Lord picked me up and brought me into His light again. For those who feel they are in the depths of despair, know that there is always hope for a better life.

Kathleen Mae Meneses