Terry’s story has some pretty incredible twists and turns. At one point, he found himself lying on a beach, ready to give up. But then he met an outreach worker who prayed with him — and he began seeing God at work in his life. He set out on a recovery journey that led him to be present when his family needed him most. Here’s his story of reunification, told in his own words.
I grew up in Vancouver. I was born in Calgary, but I was raised in Vancouver, went to school in Vancouver. I come from a family of five boys and one girl. I loved baseball, I loved to run around, but I loved school too. School was sort of my escape.
When I was around 11, my parents split up, and they tried to make us choose between them. And that's when I started running away. That’s where I started going down the rocky road. I ended up a ward of the province, and I dropped out of school after eighth grade. I was still on the honour roll, but earning money was more important to me.
I started operating a backhoe, and then I ended up going to Manitoba at about 15, where my uncle got me into roofing. I just turned 60, and I've been roofing pretty much all my life.
Entering an altered reality
When it comes to addiction, it began through friends. I started off with the drinking, and then got into the drugs. I never liked drinking, but boy, I tell you, I sure loved the drugs. I ended up with a reality that was mine and mine alone. I used to sit there telling myself, “I could quit anytime I want, but I just don't want to.” I made my way back to the West Coast; I got into some stuff and I spent time in prison.
By my 40s, I couldn’t handle the work of roofing anymore, so the only way I could support my habit was through selling drugs. I can remember seeing a picture of me — at the time, I thought I looked good. It wasn’t until I got better and looked back and realized I was just skin and bones.
Meeting God at a shelter
Sometime in 2010 was when I first saw God working in my life — without knowing it was God. It was raining, I was wet, tired, and I ended up at a shelter on Powell Street. When they didn’t have room for me, I got angry, and I was escorted out.
I wandered into a nearby mission, where an outreach worker invited me in for coffee and asked if there was anybody he could call for me. I told him nope, I’d pretty much burnt all my bridges. In fact, I hadn’t burned them, I’d blown them up. Then I sat there with my coffee, listening to him and another guy talk about Jesus and God.
I wasn't raised with Christian beliefs. That wasn't in our family. So I said, “Okay, you talk about God so highly, phone this number.” And it was the number to the shelter I had been physically removed from not even a half hour before. Just before he calls, he goes, “Hold on. Let's pray before we dial.” I remember his prayer. It was like, “Lord, I know you have a room there for him.”
The same lady that I’d been really violent towards answered the phone, and I felt a big smile on my face. They were never going to let me in, and I’d proved the Christians wrong. I told her my whole name and everything, and she goes, “We were trying to find you, we have a room available.”
That was my first God moment. I spent the next three days in that shelter and didn't use drugs. It was from there I got connected with Union Gospel Mission.
Taking steps into recovery
When I entered the UGM recovery program the first time, I lasted about 30 days out of the 90-day program. I left on my own, and I went back to my old ways. Then in July of 2013, I woke up in Crab Park on the beach with only the clothes on my back. I remember saying to God, “Why won't you let me die?” But He didn’t, so I called UGM and asked if I could get back into programming.
UGM made me feel like somebody, they made me feel cared for. I built a really good foundation with Christ. And I made lifelong friends. I can say truthfully there were numerous times I wanted to leave the program, but they were the ones that actually showed me there is a real life out there. And to this day, I seem to be living in the real world.
Answering an important call
I was still in the program when I started reconnecting with my family. I’d had a romantic relationship during my younger years, and I’d had a daughter who at this point was in her 30s. We got back in touch, and I was also in contact with her half-sister — they have the same mom. Her half-sister had two little girls.
It was around Thanksgiving that I received the call that my daughter’s mother had passed away. I continued on in my recovery, and eventually, my daughter’s half-sister asked me if I would put my name forward to take custody of her girls. They were so small — they were an infant and a toddler when they lost their grandmother — and I never once thought I would ever get them. I can remember sitting there going, “Well, Lord, it's up to you. It's going to be your will.”
But I knew I wanted to take them, because if they didn't find somebody, then the girls were going to be put up for adoption, and I didn't want them to not know who their family was. I was willing to do anything to keep our family connected. I can remember the judge asking me, “If I do give you custody and guardianship, do you know what you're getting yourself into?” And I looked at him and said, “I have no idea, but I know life as I know it is going to change,” and it did, big time.
When the government finally decided I could have the girls, we did lots of group meetings, slowly getting to know each other. I was in my 50s at this point, and I didn’t really have much parenting experience. But I was trusting God. The girls were three and five when they came to live with me, and we moved to La Ronge, Saskatchewan. And now, almost eight years later, we rent the most beautiful home. Much of what we have is fully paid for. The girls are healthy. God’s given us so many good things, and I’m just the custodian of it.
‘When I talk about home, that’s UGM. UGM is going home.’
Our life isn’t perfect: a few years ago, I lost my best friend Mike to brain cancer. And before that, I suffered a stroke. But it’s amazing what God does. Really, this is a beautiful time.
I am back in touch with my mom, my oldest brother, my aunts, and a whole bunch of cousins. And the nice part is that my mom came to Christ — and then I found out my oldest brother, Ray, is a very strong member of his church in Calgary. Faith was definitely not a subject in our family, but God found us.
I’ve been working as the manager of the local body shop for the past 14 months. The girls are now 11 and 13. I have my church family, and they'll often come and help with the girls, giving me time to get out into nature. I like the outdoors. I can't compare the freedom I have now to the freedom I thought I’d have. This is better.
This year, I was able to come back and visit UGM and talk to the guys still in recovery. I do a lot of praying for the boys in UGM still — I just hope they can all recover. Any one of them could be me. But I’ve always felt safe at UGM: when I talk about home, that’s UGM for me. UGM is going home.
One of my favorite sayings is ‘Jesus pursued me till I caught him.’ He still walks beside me. Sometimes I don't feel Him, but I know He's there. I can see now that He was always there. That's pretty much my story.
He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away. — Revelation 21:4
It won’t be the first time I’ve said this, but it’s on my mind again this month: the ultimate goal of Union Gospel Mission is to work ourselves out of a job. We dream of a day where no one faces poverty, homelessness, or addiction — and I feel deep gratitude every time an individual reaches a new season of independence and wellness after moving through our continuum of care. People not needing us is good news, and it’s the hope of every team member that one day, we would run out of neighbours to help.
That day isn’t today. But that’s the vision we’re holding onto. And I know it’s one that you share, as you continue to care for people in your community and offer them hope in hard times.
One of the greatest joys I get to experience in my work is seeing transformation first-hand. I recently had a long conversation with a community member who had been in and out of homelessness for the better part of 40 years. During that time, he’d accessed services — including some at UGM — but it’s only been in the last five or six months that he’s entered a season of sobriety and is living on his own. Stories like his remind me we’re not just here to help people in their time of emergency or urgency: we exist to help people get to a place of stability. And while that road can be long, it’s the one that we feel called to walk—knowing that any day might be the day someone’s life gets a little easier.
Across our website, you’ll read other stories of hope over time. Staff member Joey shares the road that brought him to UGM. And at The Orchard, families are being welcomed into the kind of affordable housing that can change entire trajectories. It’s stories like these that inspire us to stay the course, to hold onto the dream of transformed lives and communities. We’re so grateful that you journey with us, and with the people in our communities in need of support.
I’m holding onto God’s vision for a world without suffering, where crying and pain have ceased and people’s old struggles have passed away. This kind of change doesn’t happen in a day, but thanks to your dedication and care, it does happen. Through nourishing meals, safe shelter, intentional recovery programming, and ongoing outreach, we continue to welcome our neighbours into moments of real transformation — together. Thank you for journeying with us as we envision brighter futures.
With gratitude,
Give Transforming Gifts This Christmas
Simple kindnesses go a long way to helping people recover their hope. For $48.45, you can give the life-changing gift of a hot meal and a night of shelter this Christmas.
