SET UP FOR A FALL (part one)

It seems that I should have known something was wrong from day one as an officer. Actually, let me start with training school. I was married, and my husband and I felt very strongly that God had indeed called us to this exciting venture. We thoroughly enjoyed training…the friendships, the Bible teaching, the field work that forced us (well, definitely me) to step out of our comfort zones. Things seemed to go well, although we had some differences of opinion with school administration. Nothing major, or so I thought until one day we were told that my husband was too “autonomous” and that he should seek counseling. Hmmm….I never thought autonomy was a condition warranting treatment, but like good cadets we did what we were told. I don't really remember any specific issue that we had, either of us for that matter, that would have precipitated the counseling recommendation that came while we were still Cadets in school. My husband always had a tendency to speak his mind, so he probably was just very vocal about things that he might have disagreed with as it concerned leaders. Shortly before commissioning we were once again called in to speak to school officials. This time, however, we were asked if we would be interested in corps planting. We were intrigued and excited and answered with a definite yes. Most would see this as leadership’s confidence in our capabilities; visionary and capable of working without direct oversight and constant supervision.

After commissioning, hubby and I loaded our belongings as well as those of another family and headed for Vermont, our first appointment.. We would all travel together, planning to spend the evening at our new quarters as we were scheduled to travel to DHQ in Portland the next morning for a meeting with our new Divisional Commander, as well as another officer slated to open a new corps in the division. And this is where reality set in.

We arrived at our quarters at about 1 a.m. Our traveling companions had a young daughter, about 5 years old, who had to endure this grueling schedule with us. We walked in to the house; a duplex actually. It was a house with no furniture and with absolutely no food in the cupboards or refrigerator. A house with, we would soon find out, no hot water. Surely this is just a little setback we thought. Praise God that we had an air mattress! So, after a few hours sleep and the world’s briefest showers, we headed for DHQ. I don’t remember everything about that meeting, I do remember one thing, however. As we sat in the conference room discussing the particulars of our new appointment, our DC stated; “I know you learned a lot of things in training school. But this is Northern New England…and we do things the Northern New England way.” Uh oh, I thought. We are in for a bumpy ride. My husband and I had taken Corps Planting class in training and expressed interest in that area of ministry. I believed that the Army saw our "mission" spirit and creativeness as an asset for that particular type of mission.

No doubt part of the problem was that the leadership of our new division was very "old school" and really did not embrace that creativity Hadn’t the CS and other shared with the DC that we were well trained, disciplined and were officers to be trusted and that they could work without being hand-led?

And it was a bumpy ride. We were frustrated and disappointed. It was difficult to talk to officer friends living in beautiful quarters and having corps facilities (with actual offices!) and then look around at our “beg, borrow and steal” furniture and the tiny offices we rented to serve as a corps. We consoled each other by thinking of ourselves as missionaries doing God’s work in the wilds of Vermont and New Hampshire. Surely He would bless us in other ways.

We continued to struggle with our “autonomous” ways. We were in a small town with several social service agencies that were already being supported, therefore fundraising was difficult. There had been no real Army presence previously to speak of. As we attempted to rectify this and educate the townsfolk that “Yes, we really are a church”, we played tug of war with Army leadership. We wanted to do things “Willie Booth” style…meet people where they were and use innovative and creative ways to spread the Gospel. On the other end of the rope were leaders who seemed more concerned with whether or not I was wearing my hat on Sunday and making sure we used enough songs from the Song Book.

Little by little, life as an officer…and life in general…began to wear me down. I remember sitting in the middle of our living room not long after our move, crying, wondering what in the world I had done to deserve this. I began to have those crying spells more and more often. I began to see myself as a bookkeeper, and not the best one, at that. For me it was more a matter of despairing: seeking self esteem, and to know, what, if any, personal impact I was having relative to my defined SA role...I wondered what effect I was really having on anyone. I questioned my calling. I questioned my marriage… I questioned my life.

Although I have yet to share this with very many people outside of a very close circle of family and friends, I will tell you that my depth of despair landed me in a psychiatric hospital for two weeks. A year later, I had somewhat of a relapse and found myself in an emergency room with a tube in my throat as they attempted to remove the last vestiges of the sleeping pills that I had taken.

We finally requested a transfer. We asked to be sent to an established corps to work as assistants. Our plea came too late. Our history of “bucking the system”, my mental health issues, our precarious marital situation, and my own failings and shortcomings weighed too heavily against us and we were, again, called in to speak with the DC about our future. I remember how uncomfortable I felt as this man, who had spent little time “pastoring” either of us during our three years in the division attempted…now…to talk about our troubles. He looked at me, and told me of his growing concern about me. He then asked me if there was anything I wanted to tell him. I coldly told him “no”. His “fatherly” expression seemed to change. Then he said something I will never forget: “I hear you tried to commit suicide not too long ago?! So, what was THAT about?” At that point, I gave up on the Army. A few minutes later, the Army officially gave up on me.

We were handed the “without appointment” paperwork and told we had approximately one month to leave the corps and the quarters. Part of me wondered… if we had come from an “Army family” would it have altered our fate? We were first generation Salvationists…a rare breed of individuals that seems to cause confusion among the ranks. There is almost a “we want new blood and ideas as long as we can change you to look and think like the old blood and old ideas”. Was that part of the problem? I can’t say for sure. Now, by no means am I trying to imply that I had no culpability in this process. I admit that I made many mistakes, some serious ones at that. . Some of the mistakes that I made were moral issues that I would expect any church leadership to take exception with. My ex-husband did some hurtful things to me and I retaliated; desperation or simply to weak emotionally to see other options.... Without sharing unnecessary specifics, suffice it to say I made some poor choices. However, it seemed that Army leadership left us in a “dry and barren land” without much support or guidance. When our situation became bleak we were offered a farewell instead of forgiveness, removal instead of restoration.

Shelley Myers

Former Officer
USA East