Reprinted and edited from my Facebook post on Memorial Day earlier this year.
Thank you to the individual who threw and broke the beer bottle in my back yard.
I got up this morning, like most mornings, and had my prayers, read my scriptures, and took my medication. Unlike most mornings, I felt inspired to post a Facebook picture, something I do maybe once or twice a year; the picture showed hundreds of American flags waving in the breeze at a cemetery. I captioned it, “Remember, remember…” and then returned to my daily routine.
As I started working in my backyard, I discovered dozens of pieces of glass scattered from a beer bottle that had been thrown and impacted on the landscape rocks. Initially, rage set in – a cycle of feeling disrespected, abused, and tortured – a cascade of feelings much too familiar in my life since serving in the Army as a teenager on the other side of the Pacific Ocean…
I then prayed for understanding, on this day of all days, when we remember those who paid the price for our freedom.
My father Bob, who lost one leg and part of his other foot in WWII, now confined to a nursing home, thanks you for exercising your opportunity to freely walk the street. My uncle Ricci, the only survivor of his plane shot down in WWII and who spent years recovering from his injuries, thanks you for exercising your right to freely go wherever and whenever you desire. My uncle Harold, who would never speak of his service in the Pacific during WWII, thanks you for exercising your right to comment on how you feel about my property. My grandfather Leon, who served in France in WWI, thanks you for exercising your freedom to worship and show respect according to the dictates of your own conscience. His brother Weary, who was retired from the U.S. Cavalry due to his disability, thanks you for exercising your right to be out drinking beer as you wish. Their granduncle George Henry, who was disabled during the Civil War at the battle of Chantilly, thanks you for using your freedom of choice to choose either unity or division. His father Samuel, my 3rd great grandfather who served in the War of 1812, thanks you having the opportunity to use and express your freedom as you desire. All my many ancestors who fought in the Revolutionary War to make this country free and give you the opportunity to express your free will salute you!
I thank you for giving me the opportunity to work through my post-traumatic stress secondary to my service to our country -- today as I clean up the shards of a broken beer bottle and the shards of repressed memories of those who hurt me -- I know Jesus heals!!
I got up this morning, like most mornings, and had my prayers, read my scriptures, and took my medication. Unlike most mornings, I felt inspired to post a Facebook picture, something I do maybe once or twice a year; the picture showed hundreds of American flags waving in the breeze at a cemetery. I captioned it, “Remember, remember…” and then returned to my daily routine.
As I started working in my backyard, I discovered dozens of pieces of glass scattered from a beer bottle that had been thrown and impacted on the landscape rocks. Initially, rage set in – a cycle of feeling disrespected, abused, and tortured – a cascade of feelings much too familiar in my life since serving in the Army as a teenager on the other side of the Pacific Ocean…
I then prayed for understanding, on this day of all days, when we remember those who paid the price for our freedom.
My father Bob, who lost one leg and part of his other foot in WWII, now confined to a nursing home, thanks you for exercising your opportunity to freely walk the street. My uncle Ricci, the only survivor of his plane shot down in WWII and who spent years recovering from his injuries, thanks you for exercising your right to freely go wherever and whenever you desire. My uncle Harold, who would never speak of his service in the Pacific during WWII, thanks you for exercising your right to comment on how you feel about my property. My grandfather Leon, who served in France in WWI, thanks you for exercising your freedom to worship and show respect according to the dictates of your own conscience. His brother Weary, who was retired from the U.S. Cavalry due to his disability, thanks you for exercising your right to be out drinking beer as you wish. Their granduncle George Henry, who was disabled during the Civil War at the battle of Chantilly, thanks you for using your freedom of choice to choose either unity or division. His father Samuel, my 3rd great grandfather who served in the War of 1812, thanks you having the opportunity to use and express your freedom as you desire. All my many ancestors who fought in the Revolutionary War to make this country free and give you the opportunity to express your free will salute you!
I thank you for giving me the opportunity to work through my post-traumatic stress secondary to my service to our country -- today as I clean up the shards of a broken beer bottle and the shards of repressed memories of those who hurt me -- I know Jesus heals!!
God bless!!!
Thank you, for helping me remember.
Thank you, for helping me remember.
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