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The Gift
by Elizabeth Tormey If life is indeed a "box of chocolates" then mine would probably be a box of Goo-goo Clusters. I was adopted as an new born in 1960, but, only IF my dad stopped drinking. Which he did for three years, and then in 1965 I was awaken in the middle of the night to loud voices. It was my mom and dad; daddy had ben on a binder and I jumped out of bed to run and see him. Well I got to the living room just in time to see daddy walk out the front door. Let me explain something here. Daddy was a WWII vet, he was a Merchant Marine and received a purple heart on Iwo Jima. But, all I knew was that daddy had broke my heart. Thus this is the image that stuck with me all my life. Years of heart ache, broken promises, and NEVER opening a present from my dad. This is what had festered in me since child hood. And growing up with no man in the house we didn't watch a lot of war movies, let alone talk much about the war times. And since I was either to young or self absorbed to pay attention to Korea and Vietnam it never dawned on me what war was really all about. While I did see daddy fairly often growing up he was either drunk, getting drunk or coming off a drunk. This is all I knew, it never occurred to me to wonder why he drank so much. By now your asking yourself "What does this have to do with a gift?", I'm about to tell you. Like 90% of America I was glued to the TV after 9/11. I watched all the police, fire fighters and all the other first responders and heard all the accolades which were rightfully theirs. The more I saw this something began to happen. I began to get angry. What about our veterans? The men and women who helped build and defined this country the ones who drew the proverbial line in the sand and then made and outsider terrified to cross it. Where was their praise? So I decided that I would thank every veteran I met. And it was not to long after this that I got slapped silly by my past. All these years I lived with the thought that daddy never gave me a gift. But, now I sat in amazement. Daddy did give me a gift, a very precious gift that has kept on giving for 53 years with no sign of stopping. And I never opened a gift from him because the only thing he could find to wrap it in was "Old Glory" and this gift is my freedom. Bought and paid for on an island in the South Pacific. And now that I'm a little older and wiser I can understand why he drank like he did. It may not explain all of it ,but some of it. I think daddy hide in the bottle to get away from his memories of the war. So if you know a solder or get a chance to meet one no matter what he or she may look like hug em and say thank you. I mean how would you look if you had come out of a war? FOR MYSELF AND MY FAMILY TO ALL WHO SERVE OR WHO WAITE FOR ONE TO COME HOME FROM THE BOTTOM OF OUR HEARTS - THANK YOU!!!!!!!!! My name is Elizabeth Tormey, My journey has been a long one; it's been eventful, scary, hurtful, happy, sad, lonely, and educational. And you know what? I wouldn't trade it for the world. Now before you start thinking how strange I am let me explain. Despite what the journey has been, it is this journey that has made me what I am. It has taught me that I am more than I thought I was, stronger than I thought I was, and more resourceful than I ever imagined I could be. But, the best thing it taught me is this; I am a person of incomparable worth. After spending seven years in Crossville and Cookeville going from pillar to post, the last two without a home of my own I ended up here in Nashville at the Family Life Center of the Rescue Mission. My son and I arrived there on June 29, 2009 and for the next year that was our home. I had to hit MY rock bottom to see the way out. Even though FLC was a safe place to be it was heart breaking to see the hurt on my son's face having to miss out on so much just to meet curfew and follow rules. Our year at the FLC gave me time to wake up and get a clue.No one becomes homeless overnight it is actually a process; you see there is a difference between losing your house and becoming homeless. I have put my son to bed in the back seat of my car, on the ground, on numerous friends' couches even in the homes of two abusive men. So I had a lot to work through to get back on my feet, and the fact that we could stay at FLC so long went a long way to my healing and becoming the mom my son needed me to be, so I could rebuild a home life for us. Which I did, in July of 2010 I got a job with GCA as a custodian at Hume Fogg High School. And about two to three weeks later we moved out. Not long after this I met and married my wonderful husband. But, two weeks after we were married I was admitted to Vanderbilt Hospital with a Left Bundle Branch Blockage. I was released after four days still not knowing what caused the blockage, (we would find out later it was a valve that was too small.) This was In October of 2010. Then two years later on November 26, 2012 I went into Cardiac Arrest twice and was hospitalized for a week and a half. I tried to work some but, I finally had to go on disability. I feel that coming out of poverty isn't enough. I think once you're out it is your responsibility to go back and bring out the next one and so forth.God has held me and sustained me. When I was at my lowest God brought to my mind to write a Bible study. So I am going to start here with your help. He told me He would take me from Victim 2 Virtue and show me how to lead others. My family and I are stronger and more stable than we have been in a good while. God doesn't waste a hurt. He gave me the gift of the written word to inspire others. Article Source: http://www.faithwriters.com |