- Dorrie's Story

My life began somewhat normal. I stress the somewhat. I was born into a great family with two loving parents. But of course from day one there were problems. My mother was still legally married to her ex husband, the father of my older brother. It was his last name that they put on my birth certificate, and only the year I turned 16 was it changed. It was a hassle, but nothing is ever easy. When I was two years old my parents finally got married. My mother was pregnant with my younger brother at the time, but she still looked beautiful in her dress. The whole wedding was beautiful, but that is all I remember of it. My mother also had a brain tumor. She was in and out of hospitals as my brother and I were growing up. We moved a lot in our early years, until we found this great house and in a great neighborhood. I loved it there. It was a beautiful house in walking distance from the water. We lived there for a few years. My mom had grown quite sick in those two years. One night, my father had a few friends over. They were in the garage having some beer and just hanging out. My mother had a seizure. She locked my brother and I in her room, and wrecked the house. She threw furniture and other things out the windows just basically ruined the house. She threw herself into the walls until she was all bruised and battered. Then she called the police and blamed it on my father. They arrested him, but the next day my grandma bailed him out. They did not quite believe my mother's story. He stayed with my grandparents because he had nowhere else to go. A few days later, my mother dropped off my brother, and the day after that, she dropped me off. My mother moved in with her mother, unable to take care of herself.

Of course my little brother and I had no idea what was going on. We were only four and six years old at the time. We just thought it was a small visit with our grandparents. But that small visit turned to weeks, to months. Finally I had to switched elementary schools. It was then that I finally realized exactly what was going on.

Those months after the split were brutal on me. I lost my mother, my friends, my life, all at the same time. I used to sit up and cry for hours on end for my mother. I had no contact with her. I could not tell her I loved her, and how much I missed her. She locked herself in her bedroom, and when she was not there, she was in the hospital, or a mental clinic.

My father brought me to counseling to discuss my feelings of hurt and abandonment. I remember writing stories about my mother and us all as a happy family, and drawing pictures and paintings of her. The counseling helped a lot, my father said, but I don't really remember it, but I will just take his word for it. My father is a great guy, but we were never really close. We talk, and when we do we get along, but we are not as tight as my brother and him are, but that is understandable. Sometimes I wish we were, but that is ok.

My grandmother and I are very close and have been for a long time. She is the motherly figure my brother and I grew up with. I want to emulate her when I get older. She is a great person, and a great friend. I am glad that God brought us to live here. Although we do get into many arguments because of the age gap, I love her and am thankful for her every day.

Now all through elementary school and middle school I experianced the problems the loss of my mother in my life occured. I turned to food as comfort. Whenever I was sad, angry, anything, I would eat. I became a pretty big child and was picked on at school because of it. I became depressed and antisocial because of it. Everyday it was a new joke at my expense. I did not have fun going to school, but until about 7th grade, I pulled very good grades. I wanted the praise of my parents, but I did not get it. I even made National Honor Society, but I hardly got any praise. Just a good job would have been great. Finally I decided that working my butt off to get good grades was not anything unless I got praise for it, so I stopped trying and became a big slacker.

In the eighth grade, a few friends and I created a singing group. We were doing pretty well, so we signed ourselves up for the talent show our school was putting on. Well, a week before the show, one of the girls who was my very best friend decided she did not want to be in the group anymore. It was like a dagger to my heart. I took it as if she did not want to be my friend anymore either. The week of my 14th birthday she layed this on the other girl (who soon became my best friend) and I. I didn't think it was fair. I became very depressed, thinking it was something I did and that's why she did not want to sing with us anymore. Plus it was and still is a dream of mine to earn success in the music industry, so I second-guessed that as well. I drastically lost and gained weight, and my grades plummetted a lot. I was also completely atheist. If there was a God, why would he let all this happen to me?, I used to think. This went on until I reached High School.

In my freshman year, I really could care less about anything. I cut classes, experimented with a lot of different things. I just plain did not care. When I got caught doing things, I would lie to get myself out of it. I slept in classes and did not care about myself or anyone around me. In fact, I just plain hated the world. By the end of my freshman year, my best friend and I were no longer friends because of my attitude towards things in the world.

My father was in the 4th Marine Division during WWII and was a signalman and radio operator. His division made 4 landings in the Pacific and he survived by the grace of God.

The story I am sharing with you my Dad told me in 1995 the year my young husband of 10 years passed away at 34 years of age from Von Hipple Landu Syndrom (Causes Cancer of the brain, inheareted genetic disease). Dad rarely told any accounts of his experiences in battle but I believe he shared this with me to show there is more to this life than we can even dream or imagine. Dad told me that he was very angry with God the day they left Iwo Jima and never understood why so many men had to die on that battlefield. One year after his return to the states he said he had a vivid dream and God told him that one day he would understand and not to be angry anymore. My Dad lived to be 83 years old and was a devout follower of Christ. This is the story he shared with me about his colleages in his unit.

As the 4th Marine Division was at the height of the battle of Iwo Jima there was constant fighting all around. Men were being blown up everywhere and many of the Japanese soldiers were jumping off the cliffs of this volcano rather than be taken hostage.

One morning as the men always gathered for church prayers and mass before breakfast (no denominations in war Dad said, Prodestant and Catholics worship together in war) After morning prayers the men would assemble in a chow line to eat and then sit in a group together. There was one Marine who was from New York and he was a very loud kinda crass guy, as Dad described him. He came over to the group of men that Dad was eating breakfast with and he stated in a very loud tone with the strong NY accent, "There is NO GOD, you guys are full of "C@#*"!!"!  One of the marines repliedback to him, "we will pray for you and pray that God will reveal himself to you!" The Marine responded with, "Yea right you expect me to believe that you pray and talk to A God and he will save all of us in this mess! Your full of "C%#@" and he walked away.

The rest of the day the men went back to the fighting and battle. The following morning the same thing again, they went to prayers and then to breakfast. The following day the guy walked by and just laughed at the group really loud. The fellow shouted back to him "We are still praying for you!!"

 
  My uncle was the most gentle man I have ever met.  In my entire lifetime, he never once raised his voice or said a hateful word to anyone. He was always the first to volunteer to help the community, or a neighbor.  It surprised me very much to learn, after my childhood, that he was once a Marine in the Korean war.

  My uncle, Jack, never discussed his experiences while in the Marines,  that is until I became one myself.  Shortly after returning home from Parris Island I visited him.  He showed me horrible pictures of death, talked of being wounded saving his buddies, and the Inchon resevoir.  He then told me the story I am about to tell  all of you.  I do this so that maybe you will also be moved to believe.   

  On some unkown hill in the middle of an intense firefight  Jack found himself,  pinned down while advancing toward an enemy  position.  He was about to find more cover in a nearby gully when he heard a booming voice yell at him, "Get your head down, Marine!".  He turned around and there stood a Marine officer in full dress blues, glaring at him.  He was clean as a button and sharp as a tack.   Jack was very confused because he himself was covered in mud.  While asking himself how in the hell this officer got here in that condition, and why he wasn't in his combat fatigues,  Jack heard a loud explosion that covered him in mud and debris.  After  the dust had settled Jack turned to where the officer had been to find that he was gone.  He then looked towards the gully where he was about to go...a ten foot wide crater was in its' place.

  Jack came home to raise two wonderful children and be a devoted husband.  He also lived his life as an example of how a Christian should be.  While battling cancer our pastor came to ask Jack, "How is your soul, Jack?"  Jack told him it was fine and asked him,  "How's yours?".  Even as he lived his last days he was the one teaching and helping and consoling.  I have no doubt that the encounter he had with that Marine Angel made him more Christ like than anyone I have ever met.

When you've trusted Jesus and walked his way
When you've felt his hand lead you day by day
But your steps now take you another way,
... start over.

When you've made your plans and they've gone awry
When you've tried your best and there's no more try
When you've failed yourself and you don't know why,
... start over.

When you've told your friends what you plan to do
When you've trusted them and they didn't come through
And now you're all alone and it's up to you,
... start over.

When you've failed your kids and they're grown and gone
When you've done your best but it's turned out wrong
And now your grandchildren have come along,
... start over.

When you've prayed to God so you'll know his will
When you've prayed and prayed and you don't know still
When you want to stop cause you've had your fill,
... start over.

When you think you're finished and want to quit
When you've bottomed out in life's deepest pit
When you've tried and tried to get out of it,
... start over.

When the year has been long and successes few
When December comes and you're feeling blue
God gives a January just for you,
... start over.

Starting over means "Victories Won"
Starting over means "A Race Well Run"
Starting over means "The Lords' Will Done"
We need not just sit there ... START OVER.