Tony's Story - In his own words. (River Valley, IA ARC)
The 1950s . . . The 1960s. What beautiful and wonderful eras to be born in and to grow up in. Imagine a 10 year old "latch-key" kid like me having his first alcoholic drink in the early 60s. Godless and frightened, the journey begins.
Literally and figuratively I was shortsighted. I could only see the bad around me. That first drink had a shot glass full of addictive thinking mixed into it. Low self esteem crippled me. Anger tortured me. Grandiosity was an escape mechanism. Yep, by the time I became a teenager I had it all. ADD, ADHD, OCD, Codependent and many more.
Society in those days did not know how to deal with a young wild kid with all those disorders. Latch key kids grow up without any adult supervision. People in those days were trying to figure out what Freud meant about June Cleaver. An incorrigible and teenage alcoholic was too much for society. The journey takes a slow detour.
Boy's School, the Men’s Reformatory, the State Mental Institution and the State Penitentiary. What is God doing to ME!?
The day I was released from prison I screamed at the top of my voice, “I’m free, I’m free!!!” Alcohol and drugs started hours later. Alcohol and drugs. Drugs and alcohol. I want more! Gimme more! The journey becomes a death march.
In adulthood I met a woman with the same characteristics I had. Drug and alcohol addiction; codependent on top of that. Also with low self esteem. Did she love to fight. We only stopped long enough to have a son and daughter. Parting, jails and hospitals. Lost jobs, lost nights, lost weekends and lost love. The journey becomes lonely.
After losing my family I fell into a deep depression and decided to end my life. I didn’t want to cause my family and friends any more embarrassment so I decided to end my life in Texas. A sunny Sunday morning I knew it was time. The house I had lived in for fourteen years. The house I raised my kids in. The house I was 6 months behind in my rent. I left that house that morning never to return. The journey takes a change.
It didn’t happen. I came back to the Quad-Cities with a new thought. I must change this insanity. The Salvation Army ARC at 420 West River Drive had 3 flights of stairs to walk up to the front desk for check in. It was hard for a dead man to climb all those stairs. I was a worm eaten mess. Worms, dead grass and leaves compost. That sums up my existence, a lump of dirt. After a month I decided the Sally wasn’t for me, grab my bag, my food stamps and took on out of there. Didn’t even make it out of the parking lot as a “crack lady’s” path collided with mine. Yep, it was on, smoking crack all night.
A month later I returned to the Sally but my heart wasn’t "in it". I went through the motions. In Chapel I hid out in the back seats. One beautiful Sunday morning as I was looking out the window daydreaming about better things I heard Major Mike Mills say something and as I turned my head to hear the rest, our eyes locked. I felt he was talking directly to me as he said, “…God hasn’t given up on you…” What did he mean by that?
I had to know. In a few Sundays I claimed a seat in the second row. From there to the Mercy Seat. I sang as loud as I could, which must have been pure torture to some but to me it was awesome. I did not get it immediately, consequently I stumbled and fell; nevertheless, I stood back up.
I worked for six sets of ARC Administrators here at The Salvation Army, Majors Branscum and Majors Wheeler in Texas. In Iowa, Majors Mills, Wilson, Frye and now for Majors Sjogren. All were instrumental with my daily walk with my Savior Jesus. God gave them the right words to encourage me at the right moments. Not to leave out General William Booth, I claim this from the book of Ruth 1:16c, "Your people will be my people and your God will be my God". Praise God for rising up The Salvation Army!
I now have eleven years of clean time, working on 6 years of sobriety, 18 months of non-smoking cigarettes. What’s even more amazing is my continuous walk with God, 9 years and counting. Amen.
Remember that lump of dirt? God took it and placed it in his meadow. Jesus grafted a small piece of vine to it and then watered it. The Holy Spirit breathed life into it and watched it grow.
I will become a Salvation Army soldier soon and will, if God wills it, have the right words to the newcomer to the Adult Rehabilitation Center. In His Blessed Name.
Tony Zambrano (9/15/2009)
