A Soldier's Road to Forgiveness

By S.D. Plummer EL

The road to forgiveness was a voyage I had to travel with God, with my rucksack full of pain, resentment and fear. We are going to combat. Guerrilla warfare. This is the closest a civilian will get into the mind of a soldier who had to endure so much torture, all while dealing with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD). My fellow Veterans will be able to relate to the distress a soldier has to face. I fought for my life with everything within. I'm here to guide you on a road to a Soldier's forgiveness.

• Language: English
• Publisher: S.D. Plummer EL
• Release date: Jan 2, 2021
• ISBN: 9781393200147

S.D. Plummer EL

Syreeta Plummer EL, Chicago native, and a proud daughter of the Englewood Community.  She recognized her gift to serve others at a very young age.  God raised up this humble woman to want to serve others at a young age.  “If I can help somebody along the way then my living is not in vain” is her motto she lives by. Has a passion for people and for helping them to reach their purpose and destiny? Syreeta proudly served her country in the United States Army/National Guard.  She is happily married to Terah and have two lovely children Jaleel & Tonyia. She has committed her life to healthcare for the past 20 years in various capacities.  Especially, love to help congregations start their own health ministries within their churches. As a result of many years of her own philanthropic goals in her community it is what led to her various leadership roles in non-profit organizations.  Syreeta is involved in many private and community organizations.  In her spare time, she enjoys spending time with family, traveling, watching sports (diehard Chicago Bears fan), bowling, and journaling.

Book preview

One

FROM PAMPERS TO CURFEW

Being

introduced to this cold world has its own set of guaranteed problems, like rejection, failure, disappointment, and sadness. Those are merely the surface things we encounter at early ages. My introduction to this world was no different than the average girl of young parents. My mom, Emerald and my dad, Preston, were teenage parents. They were babies who met in high school, who conceived a child. My mom and I lived with my grandmother of course, because my mom was still a teenager. In the beginning, she did not possess the mental capacity to act as a mother. Sometimes I felt more like my mom’s sister rather than her baby girl. The parenting skills were limited as she was still being provided for and developing. I already had one strike against me, being the product of young parents. Most times children with teenage parents miss important abilities, direction and morals, but thank God my maternal grandmother stepped in. My mother/sister did what she could, she did the absolute best, given her circumstances. Due to her young age, we bumped heads quite often. We were both figuring out life together so of course there would be friction. Her dealing with homework, pressures of high school, school functions, loss of friends, loss of freedom and then me could be overwhelming. My grandmother and aunt, my mother’s sister picked up the slack when needed. As I grew older, I looked at myself at that age and empathized with what my mom had to have been experiencing. Changing pampers, feeding, tending to, nurturing, trying to provide for and love a baby as a teenager, in lieu of homework and high school fun. She is amazing. Now my father, he was not around too much, he was a child himself. He was figuring out high school, girls, prom, his next moves and a bouncing baby girl was not in the cards. My parents got the opportunity to go on prom together after I was born. However, my grandmother was against the idea at first, but she finally decided to allow her to attend. Whatever her reasons were, in all honesty, the worst fears had already been made true. A teenager having a child. My mom was able to dress up and be a beautiful young lady for the evening, as my dad escorted her to the prom to act as normal teenagers for one night. Even though my mom had bottles, diapers, and a bouncing baby girl waiting for her at home, once her fairytale ended, she was able to experience pure bliss for one night. That one night of fun for the pair was not enough for them to come together as parents and raise me. In hindsight, I do not fault him. He was afraid, again he was a baby himself. My mom and dad made some adult decisions and gave birth to me.

No, I did not have the daddy’s little girl experience growing up, in fact, my dad was not around very much after I reached a certain age. It did not start to feel normal until my mom met my stepdad when I was about 10 years old. They married when I was 13 or 14 years old. He filled the void to a degree. My grandparents, mom and aunts tried to fill the rest. There were murmurs of my dad not being around, and I understood just what was going on. My stepdad did help mold me into the woman I am. With his male influence, he showed me how a lady is to be treated and how a man is to provide, protect, and profess his love for his woman and family. By the time the void was filled by my stepdad, it was probably the size of a crater on the moon, but he did the best he could.

My heart was longing for my dad. After high school, my dad started engaging in drug abuse. After that, unfortunately, he was introduced to his first drugs by an old manager of his, a person he admired. From then on, his addiction became more intense. Now why would someone who you admire, introduce you to something that would ultimately destroy your life? I have no answer, but it was the beginning of my father being scarce and barely around, less than what he was already doing. It only got worse. His choice of drug was stronger. When any drug gets a hold on you, it’s spiritual and physical warfare, and I had an up and close personal encounter. It put a strain on our already thin relationship and to top it off he relocated to Texas. My dad and stepmom visited Chicago a few times to see my grandmother, his mother. One afternoon my stepmom was French braiding my hair on the front porch, and a man of suspect walked up and asked for my father. My stepmom told him he was not home which he wasn’t, but the man did not believe her. He said my dad owed him some money and the guy even shoved my stepmother. Watching this stranger push, her was scary to me. When my dad made it back home, I could hear them arguing about it in the other room. Me being the inquisitive little girl that I was, I went home and explained the scenario to my mom. Her facial expression was one of surprise and she wanted to know how I knew so much and where I had heard it from. Even then she did not talk ill of my father to me. I can only imagine the conversation she must have had with my