Ronny's Gift
Stories
Vision Stories
True Accounts Of Visions, Angels, And Healing Miracles
In recovery circles, many tight-knit relationships are formed. Fellow recovering addicts or alcoholics form bonds that transcend those of blood relatives, making us "family in spirit."
One of my closest bonds was with my "big brother" William. We had a brother/sister relationship that we were unable to obtain with our blood relatives. Our friendship began shortly after he completed treatment and we began doing service work together. We were always there for each other, sharing the growing pains and joy of freedom from active addiction.
In the spring of 2000, I was devastated when William chose to go back to drinking, one week before his nine-year recovery anniversary. Many of us were hurt and dismayed over his relapse and tried everything to get him back. But I believe it was hardest on me, because I was babysitting his son at the time and I saw him almost daily. I watched the light of the Spirit fade from his eyes as he became just another statistic.
He would often bring me different kinds of recovery memorabilia and ask me to pass it on to someone who could use it or would have special appreciation for it. Upon receiving these items, I'd tuck them away and save them for the day he was ready to come back to recovery.
William worked in a salvage yard. One day, he brought me a twenty-year-old treatment center graduation medallion. It had belonged to Ronny, a recovering alcoholic who had died the previous month. Ronny's van was scrapped after his death, and William had found the medallion in it. William said he would have kept it for himself, but he hadn't spoken to Ronny in years and thought it should go to someone he was close to before his death. Although I had known Ronny since I began my recovery, we were not very close. The only memories I had of him were his joyful smile and warm hugs. I knew the medal was not meant for me, so I prayed and asked God and Ronny to let me know where it belonged. I felt the answer deep in my gut, "It belongs to William. Save it for William."
About nineteen months later, I left my husband. I moved in with friends who live a half hour away from my house. My husband allowed me to come and go as I pleased, but I avoided moving anything from the house while my children were at home. This left me with few people available to help me. My friend Bill had a day off and told me he'd help me move a couple of heavy objects that I'd been putting off. We loaded my truck and reminisced about how things were when we were new to recovery.
He shared a story about Ronny. When Bill was in treatment, he was acting completely disrespectful in a meeting while Ronny was sharing. Without missing a beat, Ronny said, "Hey, kid, if you want to play games I think they've got Monopoly upstairs. I'm here to save my life, and if you're interested in saving yours, you'll shut up and listen!"
Bill was humiliated, but from that point forward he was never disrespectful in a meeting again. Meanwhile, Ronny took Bill under his wing. He ended up becoming a surrogate father for Bill, helping him to heal from the abuse he endured from his real father. Ronny also had a knack for giving Bill gifts that were just what he needed at the time. Ronny's death was very hard on him. He shed tears while sharing his stories of Ronny on our way back into town.
I remembered the medallion and wondered if I should give it to Bill. Again, I prayed and asked God and Ronny for guidance. The answer deep in my gut was, "You are supposed to give it to William." I questioned this, as it seemed that Bill would be the right choice. The answer was, "Don't you realize that Bill is short for William?"
I immediately called Bill and told him I needed to come over and talk to him as soon as possible. When he asked why, I told him I needed to talk to him about William. I polished up the old medallion and headed over.
My story began with how much I missed my "brother" William, and that I could relate to his feeling of losing Ronny, because, in a way, William had died in spirit. Then I told him about William giving me things, and that I always held on to them in hopes that he would return to us. "But there was one thing that's not for him; it's for you. And it's not from me; it's from Ronny," I said, placing the medallion in his hand.
He asked how I got it. My reply was, "I guess Ronny really wanted you to have it, so he told me to give it to William. It just took me a while to figure out which William he was talking about."
We both sat there sobbing. Bill felt a strong presence of God's love. I had a physical feeling of an angel wrapping its wings around me. That angel was Ronny.
I still think of William often. Every day I pray for him. Sometimes I ask Ronny to wrap his wings around William and bring him back to our family.
The names of Rebecca's friends have been changed in this account to protect their identities.
One of my closest bonds was with my "big brother" William. We had a brother/sister relationship that we were unable to obtain with our blood relatives. Our friendship began shortly after he completed treatment and we began doing service work together. We were always there for each other, sharing the growing pains and joy of freedom from active addiction.
In the spring of 2000, I was devastated when William chose to go back to drinking, one week before his nine-year recovery anniversary. Many of us were hurt and dismayed over his relapse and tried everything to get him back. But I believe it was hardest on me, because I was babysitting his son at the time and I saw him almost daily. I watched the light of the Spirit fade from his eyes as he became just another statistic.
He would often bring me different kinds of recovery memorabilia and ask me to pass it on to someone who could use it or would have special appreciation for it. Upon receiving these items, I'd tuck them away and save them for the day he was ready to come back to recovery.
William worked in a salvage yard. One day, he brought me a twenty-year-old treatment center graduation medallion. It had belonged to Ronny, a recovering alcoholic who had died the previous month. Ronny's van was scrapped after his death, and William had found the medallion in it. William said he would have kept it for himself, but he hadn't spoken to Ronny in years and thought it should go to someone he was close to before his death. Although I had known Ronny since I began my recovery, we were not very close. The only memories I had of him were his joyful smile and warm hugs. I knew the medal was not meant for me, so I prayed and asked God and Ronny to let me know where it belonged. I felt the answer deep in my gut, "It belongs to William. Save it for William."
About nineteen months later, I left my husband. I moved in with friends who live a half hour away from my house. My husband allowed me to come and go as I pleased, but I avoided moving anything from the house while my children were at home. This left me with few people available to help me. My friend Bill had a day off and told me he'd help me move a couple of heavy objects that I'd been putting off. We loaded my truck and reminisced about how things were when we were new to recovery.
He shared a story about Ronny. When Bill was in treatment, he was acting completely disrespectful in a meeting while Ronny was sharing. Without missing a beat, Ronny said, "Hey, kid, if you want to play games I think they've got Monopoly upstairs. I'm here to save my life, and if you're interested in saving yours, you'll shut up and listen!"
Bill was humiliated, but from that point forward he was never disrespectful in a meeting again. Meanwhile, Ronny took Bill under his wing. He ended up becoming a surrogate father for Bill, helping him to heal from the abuse he endured from his real father. Ronny also had a knack for giving Bill gifts that were just what he needed at the time. Ronny's death was very hard on him. He shed tears while sharing his stories of Ronny on our way back into town.
I remembered the medallion and wondered if I should give it to Bill. Again, I prayed and asked God and Ronny for guidance. The answer deep in my gut was, "You are supposed to give it to William." I questioned this, as it seemed that Bill would be the right choice. The answer was, "Don't you realize that Bill is short for William?"
I immediately called Bill and told him I needed to come over and talk to him as soon as possible. When he asked why, I told him I needed to talk to him about William. I polished up the old medallion and headed over.
My story began with how much I missed my "brother" William, and that I could relate to his feeling of losing Ronny, because, in a way, William had died in spirit. Then I told him about William giving me things, and that I always held on to them in hopes that he would return to us. "But there was one thing that's not for him; it's for you. And it's not from me; it's from Ronny," I said, placing the medallion in his hand.
He asked how I got it. My reply was, "I guess Ronny really wanted you to have it, so he told me to give it to William. It just took me a while to figure out which William he was talking about."
We both sat there sobbing. Bill felt a strong presence of God's love. I had a physical feeling of an angel wrapping its wings around me. That angel was Ronny.
I still think of William often. Every day I pray for him. Sometimes I ask Ronny to wrap his wings around William and bring him back to our family.
The names of Rebecca's friends have been changed in this account to protect their identities.
