My first two weeks of work have flown by. I continue to pinch myself- asking “Do they really pay me to talk to people about their lives and try to help them heal their injuries?” It is an incredible privilege to be let into peoples lives, to open the door into their deepest darkest memories and pain, and be given an opportunity to initiate healing. Many of the men and women I see on a daily basis were injured during war and are still dealing with their injuries 40 or more years later. To see me means to resurrect the emotional turmoil surrounding their injury, or to some it is a beautiful opportunity to talk about the service they gave to our country, “this is just the price of freedom” as one WWII veteran told me about . This really got me thinking... I didn't sleep very well.
What exactly is the price of freedom? Has the price of freedom changed throughout the decades? Does everyone sacrifice for freedom, or is that reserved for the soldiers?
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