IMAGE: CNS photo/Theresa Laurence, Tennessee Register
By Theresa Laurence
NASHVILLE,
Tenn. (CNS) — As a lieutenant colonel in the Tennessee Army National Guard,
Deacon John Krenson was responsible for the well-being of his soldiers in many
tense situations in Afghanistan and Iraq.
Now,
on the cusp of retirement from the guard, he is serving soldiers in a new way,
as executive director of Operation Stand Down Tennessee, a unique local nonprofit
organization that offers a wide range of services to honorably discharged
veterans and their families.
When
the position with Operation Stand Down became available last spring, Deacon
Krenson saw it as “an opportunity that I couldn’t ignore.” Deacon
Krenson, who serves at Christ the King Church in Nashville, said the position “fused
together everything that my life has been about,” providing the perfect
synthesis for his experience in the military, the diaconate, and the business
world.
While
Deacon Krenson’s military role “was all about protecting,” his role at
Operation Stand Down “is about reconciliation and healing.”
The
husband and father of two teenagers oversees its network of services designed
to help veterans after they return from war, bearing wounds both visible and
invisible.
Operation
Stand Down serves veterans from all backgrounds, with a particular focus on
those who are homeless or failing to thrive because of addiction, physical or
behavioral issues. Discharged from the regimented structure and built-in
brotherhood of the military, the vets seeking help at Operation Stand Down have
struggled on and off, for years, or even decades, after leaving active duty.
Through
its programs, they are reconnected with a holistic support system that helps
them make concrete changes and once again become healthy and self-sustaining.
Part
of the healing process happens in a nondescript back room at the agency’s
headquarters, beyond a narrow maze of cubicle offices, where veterans gather
for weekly Soul Care meetings. “There is a spiritual component to soldiers’
resiliency and we recognize that at Stand Down,” Deacon Krenson said.
Operation Stand Down is a secular organization, but does offer opportunities
for spiritual growth.
“I
am a soul and I have a body,” Soul Care leader and Vietnam veteran Larry
Malone called out at a recent meeting. “I am a soul and I have a body,”
the men repeated. After a series of call and response affirmations, the men
quieted down and listened to Scripture passages and reflections chosen by
Malone and his co-leader Terry Smith, a life coach and counselor.
“We’re
trying to address the soul here,” Malone told the Tennessee Register,
newspaper of the Nashville Diocese. “We have systems in place like the VA
that can address the physical and psychological ailments. But there’s another
place you can be wounded and those systems can’t get at that,” said
Malone. “We can be a bridge to that place.”
Malone,
a bomber pilot during the Vietnam War, knows how deep those spiritual wounds
can run. After completing numerous missions, dropping bombs on untold numbers
of Vietnamese combatants and civilians alike, “I couldn’t do it anymore,
and I quit. … It ripped a hole in my soul.”
Acting
with a lack of moral clarity amid the fog of war can cause a wound “that
takes residence in your soul and makes you hopeless. … When utter
hopelessness sets in, suicide looks good,” Malone said, in a tone that
implies he knows exactly what he’s talking about.
The
spike in veterans’ suicides since 9/11, now surpassing combat deaths, is
alarming to Malone, and he wants to do whatever he can to offer peace to vets
struggling with suicidal thoughts or lack of identity and direction.
Vietnam
veteran Craig Bothwell, his arms covered in tattoos, including one that says “Fight
or Die,” flipped through his Bible during the Soul Care meeting. Facing a
third round of leukemia, Bothwell, who served in the Navy during the Vietnam
War and is a participant in Operation Stand Down’s transitional housing
program, finds solace in the Soul Care meetings. “I need reinforcement of
this type of thing,” he said.
The
weekly meetings ended with participants, many of whom are Bothwell’s
housemates, joining hands for a final prayer before going about their days.
Among the men in the circle were Marine Corps veteran Tony Manderson and Navy
veteran Mark Evans.
When
Manderson arrived at Operation Stand Down last October he was divorced,
unemployed and temporarily staying with a friend, a fellow Marine he served
with in Iraq. “He’s the one who told me about it,” Manderson said. “I
didn’t know Stand Down existed.”
While
the organization has been around for 23 years, and has 39 full-time staff
members, it is still not well known in the community. “Most people are
surprised with how deep we are,” said Deacon Krenson.
Manderson,
who suffers from post-traumatic stress disorder, came in to the Stand Down
office on a Monday morning, lacking direction and essentially homeless, “looking
for a regular life again, a good job and a place of my own.”
He
was immediately identified as a good candidate for the transitional housing
program, which provides housing and support for veterans while they regain
control of their lives. He quickly moved into one of Stand Down’s seven
transitional houses in Nashville.
All
42 residents who live in one of the houses are given case management services
and must follow a strict set of guidelines to stay in the house. “It’s
important to have structure after being in the military all these years,”
said Manderson, who enlisted after graduating from high school in Fayetteville
during Operation Desert Storm, and saw combat in Iraq and Afghanistan.
Transitional
housing residents must attend weekly house meetings; actively look for
employment; go to at least seven support group meetings a week; contribute to
household expenses; complete daily chores; be home by curfew; and adhere to a
zero-tolerance policy for alcohol, drugs and violence.
The
residents — a diverse group of veterans of different ages, races, religions,
military branches and backgrounds — do have their squabbles and personality
clashes, “but you work it out,” said Manderson, who was recently
appointed assistant house manager.
The
house can even be an incubator for unlikely friendships. “There is
camaraderie with other guys in the house,” he said.
Manderson,
who was raised Southern Baptist in rural Tennessee, and his roommate Mark
Evans, an African-American who grew up in a Catholic family in the Chicago
suburbs, have a bond cemented by their common background of military service. “Vets
can relate to other vets,” Evans said.
When
Evans arrived at Operation Stand Down last spring, he was unemployed and living
in his car. A member of a submarine fleet during the Cold War era, Evans was
honorably discharged and went to college on the GI Bill, graduating in 1986. “That
gave my mother bragging rights,” he said, being the first of his seven
siblings to graduate college.
Evans
had steady employment until he suffered a brain aneurysm and a series of
strokes. “I became ill and things spiraled down after that,” he said.
He came to Nashville about a year ago to live with his brother, but when his
brother had to move, Evans had nowhere else to go.
He
sought refuge at Matthew 25, a shelter that helps homeless men, especially
veterans, get back on their feet. From there, he heard about Operation Stand
Down, and got a spot in the agency’s transitional housing program.
Evans
now rides his bike to work most days at a Circle K gas station near the house,
and although the wages are low, he’s hoping it’s a stepping stone to something
better. “I’ve almost been hired a couple of times, but there’s a lot of
competition out there,” said Evans, who attends St. Edward Church
Still,
he’s thankful for the roof over his head that Operation Stand Down provides. “They’re
doing more than family or friends could have done for me,” he said. “Who
else is doing anything? Who else is even trying?”
–
– –
Laurence
is a staff writer at the Tennessee Register, newspaper of the Diocese of
Nashville.
– – –
Copyright © 2016 Catholic News Service/U.S. Conference of Catholic Bishops. www.catholicnews.com. All rights reserved. Republishing or redistributing of CNS content, including by framing or similar means without prior permission, is prohibited. You may link to stories on our public site. This copy is for your personal, non-commercial use only. To request permission for republishing or redistributing of CNS content, please contact permissions at cns@catholicnews.com.
