My experience at the hands of the Good Shepherd nuns, left an indelible stain on my life and when I left ‘The Home of the Good Shepherd,’ I had a sense of freedom and hope. 

Sadly, that sense of freedom was very short lived, as I moved forward in the world; however, the world had changed  and fitting in was a challenge. 

I was overwhelmed by the freedom I had but lacked the wisdom to make right choices for my life. A sense of fear and aloneness enveloped me. 

Who was I now? Where do I go? How do I fit in?

After the sit-down strike, my removal from the ‘Home of The Good Shepherd,’ was swift. I was discharged after they discovered I was one of organisers of the rebellion. 

I was not allowed to say goodbye to the other girls, it was as though the whole experience was erased, along with my removal. 

Sitting alone on the bus I felt excited; and yet, afraid and disorientated, the bus driver turned up the music. Simon and Garfunkel’s song, “Homeward Bound” blared from his transistor radio, as I made my way home. 

I stumbled through the next year, trying to find where I fitted in. I tried to feel normal, to step in time with the rest of the world. My Social Worker found a job (suited to me) working at a hospital laundry, collecting dirty laundry from the wards. There was no “Sister Mary” that followed my every move, though the memory of her presence did; however, there was a Matron and an Overseer, so it seemed like nothing had changed; indeed, I was still being watched. 

One day, Matron called me to her office and told me she was letting me go. She said that whilst I was a faultless worker, she felt I was not the right fit because I didn’t communicate with others. I sat alone at lunchtimes and I ‘clocked out’ as soon as the knock-off bell sounded. She went on to say she thought I was “vacant” at times and it was reported to her how sad I looked all the time. In other words, my body was there, mechanically doing my job but my mind was elsewhere. 

Eventually, I started working in a coffee bar and enjoyed it, I met new friends and easily fell into the “hippy” lifestyle. I had a lovely boyfriend, called Alastair (he had long blond hair and (mine was still growing back). Unbeknown to me, I was being watched and reported on daily to the Social Worker. I never felt free, even though I was suppose to be. It was a “freedom” with strings attached to it.

Recently, I received my files from the New Zealand Government; and indeed, there was a report from my employer to my Social Worker. The ‘freedom’ I took for granted was instead being reported to my Social Worker, I liked my boss and he treated me with respect and kindness. I enjoyed working there until I heard him talking to someone about me, on the phone, so I walked away. I felt betrayed.

Eventually, my Birthright counsellor, invited me to live with her. She had a flat downstairs and I was invited to share it with her daughter, Sheryl. Both were wonderful people and treated me with respect and placed worth on me. Sheryl introduced me to her friends and I was invited to their parties. She taught me how to dress, behave socially and save my money. I started to get a sense of who I was and who I could be, by making the right choices for my life.  Needless to say, I left my potential “hippy” lifestyle and was asked out on many lovely dates by great guys. They organised an amazing sixteenth birthday for me and life felt wonderful and exciting and hopeful.

That was until they told me they had sold their home and were moving to the country. I felt lost, abandoned and once again went back ‘home.’

My life took many twists and turns, and I made bad choices. Unfortunately, I got involved with drugs and wandered aimlessly through life. Once again, losing confidence and not knowing where I fitted into this world and yet I fitted back easily into the “hippy” lifestyle, bought a drum kit and learned to play the drums. I was on a slippery slide into self-destruction.

However, when I was nineteen, my life was fully rescued before I could totally self-destruct.

My story is about a broken, violent, abusive childhood that had no demonstration of nurturing, or love and safety. I spent time in a Good Shepherd Laundry, a place that used me and only succeeded in making my heart more hardened. 

Furthermore, I had been beaten, raped by a family member, left for dead on a highway, been married, had a baby who was murdered by my husband, through violence, all by the time I had reached my nineteenth birthday. 

I had tried several times to end my life; that is, until I met a lovely guy and we quickly became friends. His mum led me to become a Christian.

In fact, it was the very night that,‘The Good Shepherd’ (Jesus), stepped into my life.

I now had a hope for my future. The first scripture God ever gave me (it has stayed with me all my life), was Jeremiah 29:11 “For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you a future and a hope.”

I have now been a Christian for 49 years, and whilst it hasn’t been a smooth story, It has been filled with interesting twists and turns. He guided me through my good decisions and picked me up after my bad decisions. He never let me go from that day, and I fully trust Him with things I don’t understand. He’s always here when I’m lonely, misunderstood, afraid, hurting and even when I’m at my worst.

He is my Good Shepherd, He came after me when no one else did. He saw me and He found me. He changed me from the inside out. Healing every broken part of me.

“For the Son of Man has come to save that which was lost. “What do you think? If a man has a hundred sheep, and one of them goes astray, does he not leave the ninety-nine and go to the mountains to seek the one that is straying? And if he should find it, assuredly, I say to you, he rejoices more over that sheep than over the ninety-nine that did not go astray. Even so it is not the will of your Father who is in heaven that one of these little ones should perish.”  Matthew 18:11-14 NKJV