Home > Today's Christian
> 2007
> November/December
Carving a New Life
My world was consumed by drugs and violence, until God used the gift of woodworking to shape me into a different person.
By Carlos Antiono Velasquez
 1 of 3
I grew up on a family farm in the Andean mountains where we raised cattle and grew coffee and bananas. I loved the smell of cooking "panela" when we boiled the sugar cane to make brown sugar. But at age 12, my paradise shattered. The heavy lid of a wooden grain bin fell and struck my mother's head. Within days she died, and so did my world.
I sought refuge in my father, but he sought refuge in the bottle. Despite my young age, he introduced me to alcohol. Although I didn't like it, when the men in the bar laughed at my reaction, I decided to be a "man." That day I took my first step down the road of addiction and wrong companions.
A bottomless void
When Pablo Escobar, a powerful drug lord, recruited my uncle to process cocaine, my whole family entered the drug business. Before long I'd earned a reputation at the laboratory for processing pure white cocaine.
I had money, alcohol, women—but nothing filled the void inside me.
Distorted values poisoned all areas of my life. Though I was a gifted craftsman at woodworking, I poured my energy into the drug business. I married a wonderful woman named Aleida, but instead of a romantic getaway, we spent our honeymoon at the laboratory.
Our marriage was often in turmoil. One day after our second child was born, Aleida and I got into a bitter argument. She stormed off with the baby and, angry and hurt, I partied at the lab, showing off my latest weapon. To my horror the gun accidentally fired, and my 2Q-year-old son, Giovany, crumpled to the ground. The bullet had pierced his tiny body close to his spine.
As we raced down mountain roads to the village clinic, several times I considered swerving the jeep over the precipice. Why live? I asked myself. Then Giovany groaned and I thought, Perhaps there is hope. I tried to recite the Lord's Prayer and the Rosary—then just screamed, "God, save my son!"
When the young medic in the village cut into my little boy's body, I put my hand on my revolver, determined that if my son died, the doctor would die. But God used that doctor to save Giovany's life—and give me my first glimpse of His glory.
The doctor didn't give Giovany much chance of walking again. Yet three days later he walked and was eventually released from the hospital.
Despite my joy, I turned my back on this second miracle. After all, the mafia needed me to move a shipment of cocaine. But God didn't give up on me. Drug agents captured me, and I was sent to a prison in Urrao.
Filled by God's love
Some of the inmates and I planned an escape, but the day we'd intended to flee, a massive earthquake destroyed the prison. Along with the other inmates I was shipped to Bellavista—a maximum security prison in Medellin.
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