“The Deliverance”
Times had been real hard.
It seems it had rained at least two days a week the entire fall of 1983. Money was tight and I was having a hard time making bills. I couldn’t really afford any dope (weed), but I scored a
quarter pound of weed for an old friend and got a quarter bag for the deed. I was in the restroom of our apartment, smoking a joint and one of the kids needed to get in to pee.
The kid all knew I smoked pot and knew it was against the law. Not to mention Nancy Regan’s influence on them in school. I’m not sure which one it was, but they kept telling me how it stunk
in there and how the smoke bothered them and on and on about how bad it was for me.
I remember telling the Lord “I know I need to quit smoking dope, but I like it.
I like the smell of a fresh bud getting crunched up.
I like the way good weed leaves my fingers sticky after crunching up a good bud.
I like the way it tastes and smells when it burns.
I just like it, but I know I need to quit it, but I’m not sure I can.
Please Lord take this burden from me”.
Keep in mind I had been smoking dope since 1971. That’s twenty-two years. I always had pot because I sold it and always kept the best for me.
Seldom in those twenty-two years did I go without, and when I did, life was sheer hell, for me, and everyone around me.
I would go through an ounce of weed a week by myself and I smoked nothing but the best. Most people didn’t know, or couldn’t tell when I was high.
I smoked to be normal, not to get high.
I would get up in the morning and smoke a half a joint (from the night before) on the way to work. I’d smoke a joint at lunch (usually by myself). I’d smoke a joint on the way home, smoke one
right after supper and roll one up before bed and smoke half of it in bed, and that’s if no one came over to get high. And the next day I’d start all over again. Over and over again, for twenty-
two years.
But God continued to move, to work in me.
The very next day I remember my connection gave me a quarter bag of some weed that was truly magnificent! It was a really pungent seedless weed that made your fingers sticky just
picking up the buds. I was in the restroom just salivating over this one bud. I crunched it up and licked my fingers after rolling that puppy up. I fired it up and took the first hit, and gagged and
choked as it expanded in my lungs. It was wonderful.
The taste was spicy and it smelled like a fresh cut pine tree. I took a second hit and it was equally enjoyable. Before I could take a third hit one of the kids knocked at the door needing to
pee. I put the joint out and fanned the smoke out of the restroom window.
I went on into the kitchen and started supper and after we ate went to use the restroom and saw the unfinished joint in the ashtray on top of the toilet. I remember thinking how weird it was
that a couple of hours had gone by and I hadn’t finished that joint.
I was just about to fire it back up when the Leesa knocked at the door, asking if she could take her bath. I put the joint down and let her in.
After Leesa finished her bath I bathed the other two kids and put tem all in bed. I went to use the restroom before I went to bed and again saw the infamous joint staring at me from the
ashtray, beckoning to me. It really freaked me out that I had not finished it yet, so much so, that I decided to finish it right then before anything weird happened…like the apocalypse or
something, but before I could take a single hit the kids called me to their bedroom.
I went in to their room and sang Sweet Baby James and the Little Monkey songs and then went to bed.
The next morning, I got out of bed and went to the restroom, and there it was…the unfinished joint. I hadn’t ever finished it…and now I didn’t even want too.
I had no desire for it whatsoever. I thought it was so weird.
I never finished that joint. I never even desired to finish it.
In those days there was a dry spell going on with pot and little was available, so no one was giving any away.
You couldn’t even buy a joint if you wanted to, but that same day…mysteriously…the guy I’d been giving a ride to work to offered me a couple of joints for giving him rides…and I turned him
down (how do you spell temptation?).
My friend was like, “what’s wrong man? This is good weed”, but I didn’t want it. I told him “thanks man, but I’m fine. You don’t owe me a thing”. He kept asking me if I was OK, all the way to
work.
I never smoked dope again and I never since have had the desire. I have never craved it since or been tempted to use it again, even when I was around it!
Only someone this dedicated and physically addicted to Pot, for this many years might truly understand the point I'm trying to make.
I didn’t quit smoking weed. I was delivered!
Bryan Woods
02/01/09
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