Good Morning, Holy Spirit

(Elliott) #1

38 GOOD MORNING, HOLY SPIRIT


had studied enough English to fill out a job application.
And it worked. He accepted the challenge of becoming, of
all things, an insurance salesman.
I don't know whether it was the burden of having to
raise a large family, or his natural confidence in dealing
with people, but my dad became an immediate success in
his newfound profession. And before too many months we
moved into our own home. We were all so proud of it.
Life changed rapidly for me. Instead of attending a
private Catholic school, I went to a public high school—
Georges Vanier Secondary School. And since most of the
kids at school had part-time jobs, that's what I wanted to do.
We lived in the North York section of Toronto, and not
far from us the new Fairview Mall had opened. I applied at
a little kiosk that sold hamburgers and ice cream. Even
though I had no previous work experience, they hired me.
And every day after school I headed there.
One Saturday, though, I walked into a grocery store and
asked the manager, "Where can I find the olive oil? I need
the largest jug or container of it you have." Sure enough, he
found a big one.
The next day, I walked proudly into the Greek
Orthodox church and made good on my vow to God. I
placed it at the front of the altar and quietly said, "Thank
you, Lord. Thank you for bringing us safely to our new
home."
My heart was as full as that jug of oil.
At the kiosk I did my work. Because of my stutter, I
didn't get into many conversations, but I did become a whiz
at packing the ice cream into those sugar cones. I worked
with a fellow named Bob.

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