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Lion Hudson - Peter Gladwin , Jan Greenough

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75 pages

English

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Peter Gladwin was barely one when a domestic fire left him horribly scarred. The third of nine children, he was raised on a rough council estate in Halifax. Peter was always in trouble with the police, in and out of care homes, spending his time on the streets. Then he was stabbed and effectively lost the use of his right arm. Every relationship failed. For years Peter took refuge in gambling, drinking and drugs. His sister Annette, four years senior, was called after Peter contemplated suicide. She insisted he accompany her to a local church. 'Little did I know that God was there For the first time in weeks I went to sleep without being drunk or high on drugs.' It was the start of Peter's profound transformation. In 1993 he started a two-year course at the Elim Bible College in Cheshire, and met a lovely Swiss girl, Sarah, who is now his wife. After several years working in drug rehabilitation, and as a probation officer in a cat B prison he now works as a full time evangelist.

Sujets

Philosophie et théologie

Memoir

Informations

Publié par	Lion Hudson
Date de parution	19 octobre 2011
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9780857212405
Langue	English

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0400€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

Extrait

Out of the Ashes
Out of the Ashes
The restoration of a burned boy
Peter Gladwin
with Jan Greenough
Copyright 2011 by Peter Gladwin and Jan Greenough
The right of Peter Gladwin and Jan Greenough to be identified as authors of this work has been asserted by them in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
First published in the UK in 2011 by Monarch Books (a publishing imprint of Lion Hudson plc) Wilkinson House, Jordan Hill Road, Oxford OX2 8DR, England Tel: +44 (0)1865 302750 Fax: +44 (0)1865 302757 Email: monarch@lionhudson.com www.lionhudson.com
ISBN 978 1 85424 992 0 (print) ISBN 978 0 85721 240 5 (epub) ISBN 978 0 85721 239 9 (Kindle) ISBN 978 0 85721 241 2 (PDF)
Distributed by: UK: Marston Book Services, PO Box 269, Abingdon, Oxon, OX14 4YN USA: Kregel Publications, PO Box 2607, Grand Rapids, Michigan 49501
Unless otherwise stated, Scripture quotations taken from the Holy Bible, New International Version , copyright 1973, 1978, 1984 by the International Bible Society. Used by permission of Zondervan and Hodder & Stoughton Limited. All rights reserved. The NIV and New International Version trademarks are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office by International Bible Society. Use of either trademark requires the permission of International Bible Society. UK trademark number 1448790.
British Library Cataloguing Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
Cover image: Trigger Image/Alamy.
Contents

Cover

Title Page

Dedication

Foreword

Acknowledgments

1. Out of the ashes

2. Lost boy

3. Escape routes

4. Into the dungeon

5. Out of the darkness

6. Healing

7. A new life

8. Seeking guidance

9. Skilled and equipped

10. Into the future
I would like to dedicate this book to my Mum and Dad, who experienced a harsh upbringing themselves and didn t know any other way of life.
Foreword

If I was a betting man, I would have said that from the word go the odds were pretty much stacked against Peter s life. From being horrifically burned and scarred in a house fire as a baby, to being surrounded in his childhood by serious violence, petty crime, and a heavy drinking and drug taking culture, he was destined to be either seriously depressed, dead, or in and out of prison for most of his adult life.
Peter s story is, however, one of the most compelling biographies I have ever read, and it doesn t end where you would expect it to! Far from being yet another crime statistic or ending up on a slab in a morgue after a fight (and that could easily have happened), Peter tells us his story of triumph over adversity. This story gives us a profound demonstration that having the odds stacked against you at one point in your life doesn t have to dictate your future. In a remarkable and frankly miraculous turnaround, despite incredible and devastating adversity, Peter is now a living demonstration of hope.
Just what happened to cause such a radical transformation is for you to read on and find out. I will just say that as for me, I finished reading this book feeling encouraged, full of hope, and in awe. If you know anyone who needs hope , anyone who has the odds stacked against them, then I suggest that you send them a copy of this book. However, I also suggest that you take time to read it yourself. You ll probably find it hard to put down. Be mindful though, this isn t just a good read, the contents of this book may just change your life.

Carl Beech
General Director
CVM
Acknowledgments

First I would like to thank Lynne Pugh, the artist and teacher who guided my first attempts to tell my own story, and who worked so hard to help me, despite her own illness.
Next, Bill Partington from UCB, who came into Caf Oasis and heard my story: he took it to Tony Collins at Monarch Books.
Jan Greenough, my co-author, who made me relive some of the most painful and the most joyful episodes in my life to tell the story you read here.
My sister Annette, who shared a message with me that even today is transforming my life.
And finally and most importantly my amazing wife Sarah, for her patient and loyal support and encouragement, for our three wonderful children and for helping to build a solid foundation for our family life.
Chapter 1
Out of the ashes

You be a good girl and look after the boys, said Mum. I ll only be next door if you want me.
Mum liked to go next door for a cup of tea some afternoons - she said it was the only break she got. Three kids in the house and another one on the way, she said to her friend Sheila. It s a good job I ve got Annette.
She s a proper little mother, agreed Sheila, even at four. How are you feeling?
Tired, said Mum. Seven months gone now. Too big to be chasing after toddlers.
In fact my brother John was the only toddler - he was two, and he started whining as soon as Mum went out. But Mum knew Annette would soon calm him down. She d left them both eating bread and jam at the table. I was the baby, just under a year old, and at least I wasn t walking yet. She knew I d stay where she put me, lying on the hearth rug. She d lit the fire and got it drawing up nicely with some sheets of newspaper, so I d be warm enough.
She settled herself down in Sheila s armchair. I left the Yale on the latch. They ll be all right for half an hour.
She wasn t a bad mother. But the babies had come along so fast, and she was always worried about money, and what her husband was up to - usually at the bookie s or the pub, drinking his benefit money. Sometimes she was desperate for a minute s peace.
This is lovely, she said, stirring her tea. Just what I needed.
A minute later she heard screaming. Annette was banging frantically on the front door.
Oh, what now? she said. Sheila opened the door and Annette ran in, dragging John crying behind her. For a minute or two they couldn t make any sense of what she was saying, between her sobs.
Fire, Mummy! The rug s on fire! I couldn t get hold of Peter - too much flames
Mum had been holding John and trying to quieten him down. Now she thrust him into Sheila s arms and ran outside. The baby!
She pushed at her own front door but it didn t move.
I left it on the latch! she shouted. How can it be locked? She kicked and hammered on the door, but she realized what must have happened. When Annette ran out, the door had slammed behind her, knocking the Yale catch out of position. The keys were inside where she had left them. The front window seemed to be full of smoke.
Call the fire brigade! she yelled at Sheila. Then she looked round desperately. She had to get in the house somehow. Under the window there was a heavy wooden hatch to the coal cellar. She lifted it and clambered awkwardly over the wooden rim, but it was no good. Her pregnant belly was too huge to fit in the small opening. Tears were streaming down Mum s face. Peter! My baby! she kept sobbing.
She heard sirens and the fire engine arrived. The firemen ran to fix up hoses. One of them led her away, crying and shaking, back to Sheila s house, but she wouldn t go inside. It seemed a long time before they broke the door down, and by then flames and smoke were coming out of the upstairs windows. They trained the hoses in through the hall: everything in the house would be wet.
When the flames finally died down she wanted to run over and see, but Sheila held her back. She saw one fireman shaking his head as another one went in to search the house. There was a horrible smell of wet ash and soot. The street was filling up as people came out of their houses to see what was going on, and an ambulance came screeching up the street. Two neighbours stood by Sheila s doorstep, talking.
The baby was in there, you know.
Poor little soul. Terrible way to die. Mary ll never get over it.
The street went quiet as the fireman came out again; his big body and padded jacket seemed to fill up the doorway. His leather gauntlets looked huge and clumsy, but he was holding a tiny blackened body with great gentleness. He looked up and shouted, Get some medical help over here! He s alive!
Chapter 2
Lost boy

My earliest memory: I m lying on my back, surrounded by chaos - people, noise, banging and loud voices - and lights are flashing past overhead. Surely I can t be remembering that first traumatic journey, being rushed on a trolley along hospital corridors? More likely it s a memory I ve put together from many experiences, because I was in and out of hospital for about four years. Most of those trips were planned ones, because I had to have a long series of reconstructive operations. But some of them may have been emergencies, when I fell and split the delicate new skin grafts over and over again.
I was in hospital for a long time to start with. When I was admitted no one expected me to live: my skin and clothes had blackened and fused together. I was charred from head to toe, but the worst damage was on my left side, which had been nearest to the fire. It took some time before my condition was stable enough for me to survive the operating theatre, where the surgeons began to try to salvage what they could of my burned limbs. I had amputations on both feet - all my toes and part of each foot for about a quarter of its length. All the fingers on my left hand were taken off. I had 75 per cent burns on my legs and body, so I ve got huge scars everywhere, including my face and what remains of my left ear. It s thanks to the amazing skill of the doctors and nurses of St Luke s Hospital in Bradford that I m here at all.
I suppose my mother must have visited me, but she had two other children at home and another on the way, so t