The SA Was My Life...

I am a former officer having served in the US Eastern Territory. I was made aware of the FSAOF blog by a former officer and have thought about sharing my experience for several weeks, and now feel led to do so. As I think back on my experience many things are running through my head and I will do my best to put it all together. There are things that I want to forget; too personal. I would term myself a survivor…

I love The Salvation Army; it was my life and while growing up, my second home. We lived just a block from the corps and walked many times down the steep hill and back up several times a week, and of course, each Sunday. My mother learned to drive in her late thirties and she and “Pop” would drive down just before the Sunday service began, but we made it a habit to walk home, up the long steep hill.

I was three years old when The SA came to our post WWII housing project and conducted an open-air meeting to promote the new outpost Sunday School. My older brother took me by the hand and down we went to Sunday School; that's how it started. At five I stood to my feet with other children in Sunday School and asked the Lord Jesus to come into my heart. I still remember the first day my parents were welcomed to Sunday School at the corps. We gradually got involved in all the activities and programs. The fellowship was like one big Christian family; I remember standing in a circle one Watch Night Service on New Years Eve. It was midnight, and we were holding hands singing in closing. “God Be with you till we meet again”. We would “wish” the New Year in at the corps in the same fashion each year…

Well, I “grew up”, along with others in the corps through all the different activities and programs and it seemed only natural to eventually join the Future Officers Fellowship. It was expected and accepted as one’s next step. I did this in spite of being told, “You'll never get accepted to Training…. You'll never make it through Training.”

I was very shy as a child and a labeled a “wall flower” as a teenager. I was also raised in a very strict home. There was a tough disciplinary code both at home and at school; parents supported the teachers and school administrators. My mother would remind me that, “if you get the paddle in school you’re going to get it again when you get home”. It was during that period in time when kids were sent to reform school if parents couldn't control their children.

Then there was the teasing we all had to endure from our peers. The army in those days was seen as a radical Christian group. My two brothers and I should have received “community service awards” for all the work we performed! I can't speak for my brothers’ experiences, but as for me, I was often jeered, mostly by the Catholic friends from school. The town, even though founded by the Moravians for Religious Freedom, was predominantly Catholic. We would conduct our “open air” meetings on shopping night in town and everyone from school would see me in my "Sally" uniform playing my trombone. I would go home and read the Beatitude's. “Blessed are ye when men shall revile you and persecute you and say all manner of evil falsely against you for my name's sake. Great is your reward in Heaven for so persecuted they the prophets which were before you".

I was committed to The Salvation Army; it was in my blood. I didn't have any outstanding talents to offer the Lord. My older brother could do everything better. I was a “B and C” grade student, always trying to keep up with my brother. I grew up in his shadow. My brother was Valedictorian in his graduating class of the Technical High School. While I took college prep courses he was offered a scholarship to a school in a large east coast city. But he turned it down and instead entered the Training College. I think it was the “Soldiers of Christ” session. He and his wife recently retired as officers.

Well, I had to leave home when I was 18 due some family problems. My father slapped the heck out of me because I came home from work on a Tuesday night and said I didn't feel well enough to go down to the church that night. They were having Revival meetings all week at the corps; the annual “Hell and Damnation” sermons. Well, my mother was arguing with him in the kitchen and I said, “I'm 18 now I'll do what I want, and stormed up to my room.”

My brother was by this time stationed in a nearby city and spoke to the DC and they secured a job for me at a SA Day Care and Community Center, on the condition that I agree to enter the Training College the following September. They wanted 100 Cadets for the 100th year session. Well, I was taught to forgive and three months later I finally forgave my parents for what happened. I'm just relating this to let you know how strict I was brought up. I returned home for a relative’s funeral and also to attend my brother’s wedding. I worked hard all summer and saved my money for Training College and at age 18 I entered the gates at 1771 Andrews Avenue.

Name on file

(Part One)