I apologize for the delay in publishing the result of the “Saving Grace” essay contest. Truthfully, I put it off because it felt like choosing which was my favorite child. Finally, I begged Holly to find someone else to judge because the whole thing was giving me anxiety. So ………. please know that the essays were read by a fair committee, but the I was not a judge. Not that I’m a Pontius Pilate.
I can see why the judges chose Laycee’s essay. It is extremely powerful, especially for a person like me recovering from addiction as well. Thank you, Laycee, for such a profound piece. And enjoy your iPod!! You certainly deserve it.

Let me begin by saying that I love “Saving Grace”. I see a lot of the “old me ” in her.
My name is Laycee and I am 30 years old. I grew up in a family that is all too typical these days….dysfunctional. My father was a hard worker but had severe depression and my mother was overbearing and made our whole family feel as if we were walking on egg shells. With no guidance from my parents on what I should do with my life, if I should go to college or what kind of career to choose, I quickly turned to drugs.
The crowd I hung out with seemed to be die-hard friends, not realizing until much later that they were really only there for me if I had drugs.
I went from one bad relationship to another being physically and verbally abused and used, bringing my self-esteem lower with every passing day. Anytime any big trouble came my way, I moved to another town thinking I would be able to make a fresh start. I only succeeded in accumulating baggage and meeting the same kind of people everywhere I went.
At the time, I thought I was having fun. I felt complete, as long as I had a man in my bed and drugs in my body to make myself feel “normal”. Looking back, it is a wonder I ever made it out alive. But, I now believe that God was watching me and decided it was time for a wake up call.

On May 06, 2001 I was spending a typical day out with friends. I was at a lake with some people I worked with along with some of their friends that I had never met. There was a guy there that I had never seen but was immediately attracted to. I will call him Chris. The day was pretty normal except that for some reason, I didn’t really have as much to drink as I normally would. I had a margarita and smoked a joint and that was it (the night before I had a little cocaine).
After several hours on the lake, it was time to go. The sky had started to fill up with some nasty looking storm clouds and everyone decided to meet back at the restaurant I worked at to have a few drinks. Chris and I rode in a car with three of our friends, getting to know each other the only way I knew how to–by making out.
By the time we got to the restaurant, it was pretty clear that we were going to have sex. So, we decided to skip the drinks and head back to his friend’s house to pick up Chris’s backpack. I was not intoxicated (blood-alcohol tests would later show that I had .004 in my system) but Chris was three times the legal limit.
So as the storm clouds rolled in, we headed out to a near by town about 25 miles away. Enroute, the rain began to pour. I drove slowly, trying to see where I was going because I had never been to this particular town before. I remember the two of us holding hands, talking about our families and other such small talk.
The next thing I remember was waking up in the ER at a local hospital. I was in pain, I didn’t know what had happened. I thought maybe we had been hit by a car or something. I kept asking if everyone was okay. As the doctors and nurses worked to stabilize me, I drifted in and out of conscienceness. When I fully came to, I was greeted by a policeman.
All he said was, “Ms. Hill you’ve been involved in a collision with a train. The young man with you was killed, I thought you should know”.
The next thing I really remember is my dad being there the next day. He explained to me that my car had been struck by a train on the passengers side, where Chris had been sitting. The next two months are a blur. I went to Chris’ funeral, consumed with guilt.
I had several injuries so I had at least four different painkiller perscriptions, anti-depressants, anxiety medicine, just about anything a doctor would give me. And as if that weren’t enough, I was drinking heavily. I wanted to disappear, eventually trying to kill myself.
Finally, I was arrested. I was charged with intoxicated manslaughter and thrown in jail. For two and a half months I sat there, feeling sorry for myself, convinced that I hadn’t really done anything wrong. I wasn’t legally intoxicated, it wasn’t my fault. I didn’t even have any memory of the actual accident. But the district attorney was convinced that he could show that all of the traces of drugs I had in my system with the small amount of alcohol had an “encombanent effect”. Eventually, my father bailed me out of jail and I went home to live with him, or rather, where the court could hold my dad responsible for my whereabouts.
I began to go to AA meetings, NA, CA, any meeting I could get my hands on. Not because I thought I needed it, but because I thought it would look good in court. For three years, the court proceedings were drug out. In 2004, when I was sentenced, I thought, “it’s over”.
But it will never be over.
The day after my sentencing I went to an NA meeting. I listened to a man who was 13 years sober talk about how much better his life was “today”. He had real relationships with family members, a wife who loved him for who he was, a home, a car, a support group. And it was while I was listening to him that I heard God speak to my heart.
He told me it was time to accept what my life had been, the decisons I had made, and let go. He was telling me that all this happened so that I could enjoy and appreciate my life today. I didn’t have to live my life in the past anymore, that was all behind me. I only needed to remember my past so that I wouldn’t repeat the same mistakes. I didn’t need to worry about the future because I would always be able to feel Him beside me.
And today, I can be grateful. I’m grateful that I have a job. Grateful that I have a home. Grateful that I can pay my bills like a responsible memeber of society and not have to hide from the law.
And most of all, He has shown me this. I may not know the purpose in my life, but that I do have one.
I wish everyday that I could bring Chris back. That I could heal the pain I have caused his family and friends. I was on a dangerous, destructive path. All I can do today is try to help those around me, make something good come out of this tragedy.
And had I not traveled down that road, I may never have gotten sober, met my husband, had my son, or had a real relationship with my father. Today, I am grateful to be me.