Darrel Crail:  

Hi everyone,If you're viewing my profile then most times you already know me. This testimony was written by my daughter Kara.... The best way for you to know who we are is for you to read our testimony. I now make my home in Mililani and attend word of life christian centers. Help for the Hopeless All my life, I was told there was a God; never did I see or hear Him. There were times that I questioned His existence but there were also times that I prayed. I went to church a few times, but I was never really sure that all the things I heard were true. A lot of my friends didn¿t believe in God, and those that did, were getting drunk with me on the weekends. I never knew a true believer or follower of Christ until my dad got out of prison. My dad used to be a drug dealer back when he lived in Waianae. My parents had split up before I was even born, so seeing him only on the weekends was never unusual to me. Dad was a cool guy. He never really spent any time with us when we were over at his house, but to make up for that, he¿d give us money and buy us new toys. He always had his friends over, and it seemed as if they were more important. We would always ask dad to play video games with us, but he was always too busy. Dad had more important things to do than wipe our tears or read us stories. One weekend, he dropped my sister and I off at home. He stopped calling and we had no way of getting in touch with him at all. I remember being about seven years old when I saw my dad on the news getting arrested. Supposedly, he had taken part in a huge drug ring and was being sentenced to five years in prison, three years in rehab, and ten years on probation. Dad got out of prison when I was 12. He came by every Sunday to take me out to eat or watch movies. He was totally different now. He wasn¿t the loud, obnoxious, swearing, all-about-fun dad anymore; he was quiet, calm, and very polite. There were no cigarettes in his shirt pocket; he had changed a lot. It¿s like I didn¿t even know him anymore. Sometimes I actually wondered if this was the wrong guy. Living with my mom was great. She took care of us well and never left us alone until she got a boyfriend; they always got into fights and someone would always end up bleeding or bruised. Her boyfriend got us evicted when his bad attitude and loud mouth finally got on our landlord¿s nerves. My mom couldn¿t afford to get another apartment since she had no job. We were paying close to nothing at our last apartment and couldn¿t find anything in our price range. The very same month we were evicted, my dad finished his rehab program. His probation officer allowed him to move out of the rehabilitation center and find his own place to live. My mom moved in with my grandma, and we had no other choice but to live with my dad. Just out of prison, a 46-year-old man, struggled to understand two teenage girls. I was 14 at the time; my sister, 17. Luckily, Dad had found an apartment for us to live in that was still in Mililani. Living with my dad was ok; he gave us a lot of freedom. Around that time, I started high school and met new friends. I got into drinking and doing drugs; it became a daily thing. Dad and I didn¿t talk much; we had nothing to say. For a few months, I watched my dad, just trying to figure out who he was. He was meek, kind, quiet, and compassionate but at the same time very strong, and determined to exceed at work. I noticed that he was also observing me from a distance. Every Sunday, he woke up early, dressed in his best shirt, and left looking confident and cheerful. I wondered where he went every week, until one day I found the courage to ask. ¿Church,¿ he told me. ¿Church? You mean like¿ God? Or something?¿ I replied. He told me that the Lord had changed him and that his life was so much better. I didn¿t want to hear it. I¿d think to myself, ¿I¿m not so weak that I have to sit around and listen to someone tell me how to live my life.¿ It was my life; I could live however I wanted to. Drinking, smoking, drugs, and music was life to me. Doing those things made me feel alive. They gave me comfort, and being around all my friends made me feel loved. I lived it up. All of that changed when I had to see a doctor for a check-up. All went well until my doctor asked if I wanted to start getting pap smears. I though I might as well since I was already there at the doctor¿s office. Three days later, my doctor called back with news that made my heart drop. He said, ¿Well it looks as if you have some abnormal cells. They could be cancerous, but we¿re not for sure yet. You¿re going to have to come in for another test.¿ So, they did test after test. Finally after about three weeks of, ¿We have to make sure¿ tests, I was diagnosed with cancer. The doctors said if I didn¿t have surgery soon enough, the lower half of my body¿s organs would be infected and turn to stone. Basically, I was going to die; but if I did have the surgery, I would be infertile for the rest of my life. He told me to give him a call as soon as I knew the day I wanted to get it done. The thought of death was like cold hands wrapping around my throat. Every time the subject came across, I¿d start to choke up. I thought I had been living life to the fullest, when in reality I was dying. Many questions ran through my head. What would people know me for? Being able to drink a whole bottle of gin by myself or being able to roll the greatest joint ever? Where would I go after I died? I began to question God¿s existence more than ever. I wasn¿t going to have children; I had no future. There was no hope for my voice to be carried on. I didn¿t tell anyone for weeks. I just lived life like I always did; carelessly drowning myself with alcohol and chain-smoking cigarettes. A few weeks after the phone call from my doctor, I sat with my friends in the dark at our usual park bench, with only the cherries from our cigarettes to light up the night. I was drunk and high when the thought of change crossed my mind for the first time. The thought came up every night since then. I needed to change; I was tired of mindless conversations, with friends that have no interests except getting high. I hated always having to be afraid of getting caught. I was going to change. So, for weeks I tried to stay sober, but it didn¿t last more than two days at a time. I was addicted to intoxication. My addictions were the things that made me who I was. I needed it t...Expand for more