In the spring of 1995, I thought I had realized my dream. For many years, I had a vision to open a therapeutic horse ranch for troubled youth. I had dreamed, meditated and prayed about it for several years, and it seemed the Universe was finally answering my prayers.

Several months previous, a mutual friend had introduced me to Bonnie. We soon discovered we had several things in common, primarily a love for troubled youth and a belief in the healing powers of nature and animals. When I told her about my dream, she enthusiastically responded that we shared the same goal.

Bonnie was from Kentucky. She said she had several well-connected friends with "old horse money", as she called it, and with their help, we would soon be able to make our dream a reality.

By late summer, Bonnie was able to locate investors in Kentucky interested in financing our ranch. Soon, we both had sold all of our belongings and cashed in our retirement benefits from our respective jobs. We made the necessary preparations and purchases to transport ourselves, Bonnie's daughter, two horses and one dog to our recently purchased seventeen-acre ranch near Bowling Green, Kentucky. We were on our way.

We had our ranch, strong funding, the right program, and the passion and commitment to make it work. It seemed nothing could stop us.

What a magical time it is when you work closely with animals in healing young people's lives. I saw so many incredible things happen that can only be described as miracles. I witnessed, time after time, angry youth show up at our door with a file full of documentation from expert after expert stating that this young man or young woman was incapable of emotionally connecting with anyone or anything.

As part of the introduction process, I would assign each youth a horse that they were responsible in caring for. The rules were simple: "You don't eat until your horse eats. You don't go to bed until your horse is cared for and put away for the night.".

So often, I would hear in that first introduction complaints and refusals to accept the responsibility of caring for a horse. Ironically, the ones who complained the most would often be the most dedicated caretakers of their horse. I witnessed these youth go through a metamorphosis as the healing power of horses transformed their lives. It never ceased to amaze me how the same youth who would defiantly declare that "they weren't taking care of no jackass" would bury their heads in the manes of their horses and sobb a goodbye when it was time for them to graduate from the program.

It was perhaps the most magical, mystical period of time I have ever experienced. Time and time again, we would express a need, and within a short time (often less than 24 hours) the need would be answered. For example, one evening I was having a meeting with my staff. One of the newest clients had a speech impediment. It was suggested that having a speech therapist on call would be a worthwhile resource to pursue. The next morning, my phone rang and a voice announced to me that she was a speech therapist and had recently seen a news report on our program. She asked if it would be possible for her to volunteer at the ranch once a week.

Situations like that happened so often, they soon became the norm. They became expected. Miracles became so common place, they were accepted and expected.
And then the dream came to an end.

Bonnie's twenty-four-year-old son Jason, a spiritually- and emotionally-wounded young man, became distraught over some personal problems. Late one evening, he put a small-caliber pistol to his temple and pulled the trigger.

Losing a child is devastating. Anyone who has had the terrible misfortune of going through the hell of burying their child can attest to the bottomless void it creates in their life, a void one never 'gets over'. And then there is the endless guilt, self-questioning and self-accusations of "was there something I could have done"? Add to that the stigma and shame of suicide, and it magnifies the pain, guilt, and self-hatred for the parents and family.

Suicide is an act of desperation and ignorance. It is a permanent solution to a temporary problem. People who attempt suicide are in so much pain they cannot see anything else but the pain. Those who are able to get help find that there are many gifts and blessings available ahead of them when they can get through the pain. Life can be very difficult, especially for today's youths.

As people mature, many come to realize an important lesson that "yesterday does not equal tomorrow". They learn, through experience, that challenges pass and often look different in the light of a new day.

But teens have a hard time seeing past the moment. Because they do not have the reservoir of experiences to fall back on, the feelings of this moment seem to last forever. It's difficult for a youth who has been physically, sexually and/or emotionally abused for most of their life to have any confidence that things are going to change.

There is an old psychology axiom that "the child is the parent of the adult", meaning that as adults, each of us is governed by the experiences of our childhood. We can and need to evaluate those belief systems to see if they are what we really want to believe and live by. But we all have had experiences that demonstrate how powerful childhood experiences are.

In childhood, our parents or guardians are our sole source for information and understanding of what to expect from life in the real world. If our parents belong to a particular religion or political party or if they subscribe to any biases or prejudices, we as children will most likely adopt those beliefs until we can gain the experience and cognitive awareness to make those decisions on our own. As children, we do not have the resources or cognitive ability to question what we are taught; it is just accepted as fact.

So, when a child is physically, sexually and/or emotionally abused, there are messages being taught about trust (of the world and other people), morality, and their own self worth. Parents can 'talk' about morals and ethics, but it is in the 'walk' that children learn. If a father preaches morality and honesty but sneaks into his daughter’s bed at night, the 'talk' is lost in the actions of his 'walk'. More importantly are the emotional wounds that are created when we dishonor our children, through beatings, molestations and verbal abuse.

I have heard parents call their children names they wouldn't call their worst enemy. Often, parents do not even realize the deep emotional wounds they create with their words. Children simply do not have the maturity and cognitive ability to filter these verbal attacks. They naturally 'take on' the responsibility of anything that goes wrong. If a mother has been telling her son he's a liar a cheater or a loser for most of his young life, what resources does he have to dispute those labels of shame? If a father pronounces in public the moral repugnance of sex but molests his daughter in private, what messages does that send to her?

When a child is raised in an environment of neglect or abuse, they struggle with challenges that, left unhealed, can haunt them the rest of their lives. These wounded youth develop a distrustful, confused outlook on life. It is understandable why they feel this way. They struggle to make sense of a life where protectors are abusers and the rules in their private reality are completely contrary to the rules of society.

To them, nothing seems to make sense. They begin to question their own sanity. For example, I knew a young nine-year-old girl whose struggles with the hypocrisy of her family necessitated that the only way she could ensure that she wasn't creating things in her mind was to keep a small jar hidden in her dresser where she collected the pubic hair she would pull from her young mouth after her father had left her bed. She said it was the only way she could keep a balance on what was pretended during the day and what occurred at night. For her and many others like her, there is no consistency in what is 'right' and 'wrong'. Family secrets hide dark insidious lies. Fear, dishonesty and intimidation are the gatekeepers of the family facade.

Not surprisingly, their view of authority figures is naturally tainted. They develop a silent but thick wall around them to distance them from a world they don't understand. In the Sixty's, the Beatles coined the phrase "never trust anyone over 30". For these wounded youth, it is more than a cliché; it is a watchword for survival.

The natural support systems that most youth enjoy are unavailable for these kids. Trust? If you cannot trust your own parents not to abuse you, whom can you trust? Truth? There is no truth in their lives; hypocrisy has replaced it. Stability? Without truth and honesty, there is no consistency in which to sink one's roots. Dreams? Who can make plans for the future when today is so unpredictable?

Frequently, these kids feel isolated from the rest of the world and view themselves as having something terribly wrong with them. Otherwise, they believe, why would their parents treat them this way? They often feel ashamed of the abuse they have suffered and believe that they are alone in what seems to be a cold and confusing world.

That is why every community needs to have a youth crisis telephone line, to give youth an avenue of expression when they are in a crisis. These lines have saved thousands of young lives nationwide.

Eventually, Bonnie had an emotional breakdown. The pain of losing her son, coupled with the shame and guilt she felt, ripped her apart. It is my fervent belief that being a parent of a child who commits suicide is probably the closest thing to hell a human being can experience on this earth. The torment never seems to end. My heart ached for Bonnie. I did everything I could think of to help and support her. We struggled along, day by day. But the wounds were too deep, the anguish too severe, and finally, Bonnie's hurt and self-hatred caused her to self-destruct. She emptied our bank accounts and asked me to leave.

With little money or other resources, I found myself in a situation I never dreamed I'd face. I was facing homelessness.

With less than seven dollars to my name, I had few options. I couldn't contact anyone locally, as all our mutual acquaintances had broken away. I was left with only two options that I could see: live on the streets until I could save enough money to get my own apartment or call my mother and ask her for help. Neither was very appealing.

Over the previous five years, my mother and I had grown apart. She did not understand nor agree with some choices that I had made concerning religion and spirituality. I had left the church of my childhood, causing a lot of stress and conflict within my family. We hadn't spoken for more than three years.

So there I was, nearly forty years old, with the prospect of having to swallow my pride and call my mom to ask for her help. I could just hear the "I told you so" waiting on the other line.

To my surprise and gratitude, she was both understanding and supportive. She loaned me $300 for a plane ticket and, best of all, I didn't hear one "I told you so”.

On the flight to Salt Lake City, I was in torment, disappointed and angry with God, angels, spirit guides and . . . well, the whole Universe. One question kept echoing in my mind “Why?”.

Why would God guide me to Kentucky, ask me to leave my three children and sell everything I owned to invest in a dream that had lasted less than a year? Why, after I had sacrificed everything to pursue my dream of serving wounded kids, would He clearly guide me there and then leave me virtually homeless, penniless and dreamless? Why, after having done all that, would He make me submit to the embarrassment of calling my estranged mother for help? Why?

During that long, painful flight back to Utah, I questioned every decision I had made in the last ten years - my divorce, leaving my religion, joining with Bonnie in pursuit of our dream of the healing ranch, cashing in everything I owned, and the move to Kentucky. No question was too large or too small. I went through a spiritual storm.

When I returned to Salt Lake City, my most pressing task was to re-connect with my three children. I spent a week with them, nurturing my soul with their sweet energies. There is nothing more healing than the giving and receiving of the unconditional love of children.

As I healed, I began to rebuild my life. Soon Janet, a precious friend offered to let me stay with her family until I could financially get on my feet. Pat Berckman, (another dear friend who was the director of Salt Lake County Youth Services), offered me a position as a youth counselor.

So, with the eternal love and support of God and many angels on both sides of the veil, the healing process continued. I received a call from Steve Erickson, Board President of the drop-in center for homeless youth. (This was an agency for which I had previously served as a board member and community services director). The call changed my life. Steve shared with me that a few months earlier the previous program director had embezzled over $20,000 in cash and property from the agency, then skipped town, leaving the agency on the brink of bankruptcy and facing the strong probability that the Center would close permanently.

Steve and the board offered me the position of executive director, with a budget of less than $30,000. With the current financial commitments, there was enough money to pay me $900 a month. In addition, if I wanted the job, I would have three months to raise the necessary funds for the upcoming year. However, if I wasn't interested, or couldn't raise the necessary funds, the board would most likely close the Center.

I struggled over my decision, but, ultimately, it was an offer I could not refuse – mostly because I believed in the importance of the Center and had a strong feeling that if the Center closed, it would be a long time before Utah would see another program for homeless youth. I felt I needed to do everything I could to try to keep it open.

With Pat's support, I was able to work as a part-time weekend counselor at the Youth Services boys group home. For the next six months, I worked at the Center during the day, wrote grant requests at night and worked at Youth Services on the weekend. Between my work at Youth Services and the Center, I was averaging 90-120 hours a week.

It was a lot of work, but I loved helping the kids at the Center and received tremendous support from some very loving and caring people who shared my determination to keep the Center open.

It paid off. We were able to increase our budget each year, for the next three years; from $30,000 to $325,000. During that time, we promoted public awareness of teenage homelessness, significantly increased the quantity and quality of services offered to the youth, and opened a transition home, Utah's first residential program for homeless youth. We grew with the help of a small volunteer board and two committed part-time workers.

My areas of focus at the Center were threefold: 1) to establish trust and reliability with the youth at the Center, 2) to develop Center resources and programs, and 3) to recruit volunteers and business sponsorships.

Thanks to the tireless efforts of our staff and volunteers, we were able to meet these goals. The daily average of youth who visited the Center rose from 3-5 to 55-65 homeless youth a day. In 1999 we provided services to over 400 individual youth, totaling over 11,000 visits.

We were able to create several new programs and services including our school program, where we enrolled 25 youth each year into their own personal education program, helping at least six complete their diploma or GED; and our employment mentoring program which assisted over 80 youth in developing the employment skills necessary to obtain employment and placed 30 of them in jobs with long-term futures. We also opened Utah's first and only residential program for homeless youth, the Homeless Youth Transition Home, which provided residential support services and case management to qualifying youth, giving them the opportunity to achieve a safe and independent lifestyle.

Under the direction of Jamie, our excellent volunteer coordinator, we were able to recruit, train and support many excellent volunteers. We were also able to develop corporate sponsorships with Harley Davidson, Illumina Design, Home Depot and several others.

Years after my flight from Kentucky to Utah, I had the opportunity to revisit my questions with a new perspective. I realized that God, my spirit guides, and (a new perspective) I had carefully planned and organized these events in my life to give me needed experience and knowledge. Suddenly, why I went through the pain and challenges in Kentucky came into focus. No longer did I feel like the powerless victim of a distant and confusing entity, but I realized that the events in my life were created by me, with the love and support of God, angels and spirit guides. I felt a new sense of empowerment, realizing that every event, opportunity, challenge, discouragement and success was carefully, lovingly created to assist me in gaining the wisdom and service I had planned for my life. I was no longer a victim, but the captain of my own ship.

Experiencing life being homeless, without resources and having to swallow my pride had given me insight and wisdom. I could now honestly look street kids in the eyes and tell them I had, at least, a small understanding of what they were going through. I had had the opportunity to walk in their moccasins and see life through their eyes, albeit for a short time.

It is important to understand that I am not suggesting this is the required path for everyone who works with homeless youth. I am just saying that for me, with my style of counseling, this was a gift for me to really be able to connect with them.

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