Did you know that Providence Home of Columbia has been awarded the 2023 Non-Profit of the Year? You may recall the article in our June issue that celebrated the completion of the chapel. Read this story to learn more about how God and the home make a difference everyday.
John Zenoni, Jr - Founder’s Son
I once read a line that stayed with me: “My father didn’t tell me how to live; he lived, and let me watch him do it.” This resonates with me both as the little boy I was, and now, as the man I am.
You see, as a little boy, “watching” my dad wasn’t easy because he wasn’t around much. My father was Johnny Zenoni, the founder of Providence Home. Long before I came along, and for a very long time, Johnny Zenoni was a drunk. But in 1963, after a DUI arrest and a night in jail, dad never touched another drop of alcohol.
I grew up hearing the story dad shared about him meeting Jesus in that jail cell. The encounter changed his life. And mine. Dad made a commitment to devote his life to Jesus and serve Him by ministering to vulnerable men.
As a little kid, dad’s commitment was hard for me to understand. I wanted to be like the other kids whose fathers were present and cheering them on. My dad was too busy with the broken.
But as I grew up, I began to understand something profound: My daddy was serving his Daddy. That realization changed everything.
Instead of regretting the time he was away, I began celebrating every second with him. Serving alongside him, I witnessed his unconditional love for every man. He let me watch him live and that time with dad became a sacred thing.
As a boy, I admired the fathers on the ballfield. But it was my own dad I came to adore. And the thing is, I wasn’t alone. Dad was beloved by everyone from heads of state to the homeless. Privilege and power never moved him, and he was impressed by no man, but awestruck by the God who could transform them.
Dad passed away in 1993. And now, 30 years later, it turns out the father I once thought wasn’t around much is everywhere – in his legacy at Providence Home and the generations of men and families renewed and restored. He’s ingrained in the hearts of his children and grandchildren who love Jesus because we watched Him working through dad.
As my sister Pat says, “If God let me choose my father, it would always be Johnny Zenoni.”
Dad never told us how to live, but his was a well-lived life. What a privilege it was to watch him do it.
Kirk Butler - Providence Home Resident
For those of us who’ve struggled with addiction, we know that often, nothing triggers failure quite like success.
I was reminded of that last year when I earned back my driver’s license after losing it for 13 years. As I walked out of the DMV, that precious card in hand validating my success, the first thing I thought was, “Boy, it would be nice to have a drink and celebrate.”
But by then, and by God’s grace, I had turned a corner in my life, and there is no turning back. For me, I know, one drink is too many, and 1,000 drinks are never enough.
I’m 65 years old and started drinking when I was 14. I had a great family growing up in Florida. I wanted for nothing. I didn’t turn to alcohol to escape or cope; I drank because it was good. I loved the way it tasted. I loved celebrating with my friends. And in the 60s and 70s, drinking was hardly a big deal. Turn 18 and you were legal. What I didn’t know then was that alcoholism runs hard and deep on both sides of my family. I had no idea that if I let it in, it would consume me.
I vividly recall a moment when I was just 17. After a night of partying, I was looking out the window and the moon was agonizingly beautiful. The night seemed bathed in light and that was my “golden moment” – the time I thought alcohol only makes life better.
It was a lie of course.
Alcohol wasn’t life-affirming. It stole everything from good jobs to great relationships. I’d get sober and then drink to my success. It was a vicious cycle that lasted decades. I had to lose everything, and nearly my life, to get better.
I first arrived at Providence Home in 2019 feeling all but dead physically, spiritually, and emotionally. It didn’t take long for me to relapse and leave. But a year later, Rob and the team gave me a second chance at Providence Home.
And this time, for the first time ever, I decided I was worth recovery. This time, I slowed down and didn’t view my sobriety as something to celebrate, but rather, to safeguard. I was grateful for it and never took it for granted.
I’m almost three years sober. While only God could fix me, I am blessed with skills to fix many things and I’ve saved enough to buy my own truck. Providence Home is still my temporary home, but I am making plans to move back down to Florida where I have begun restoring relationships with my dad and my sons.
I still make mistakes. Just not the kind I used to make. I never assume now that I’m “healed” and have this thing handled. I know that I am an alcoholic who is actively choosing every day to stay sober and seek Jesus.
Every. Single. Day.
And every single day with Him is a successful day.
Ronald Sinclair - Providence Home Resident Assistant
There aren’t excuses for the bad choices we make in life. But there are always reasons.
My boyhood was toxic. My dad was an alcoholic which led to my parents’ divorce. When mom married my stepfather, our family moved to New Jersey.
From the start, my stepdad’s relationship with my mom was brutal. On the trip to Jersey, I remember an altercation just as we were passing South of the Border.
I was in 6th grade then, and we were a family of seven living in a tiny, squalid space. My stepfather locked the refrigerator. He gave us half a slice of bologna and half an egg for breakfast. He let us eat the other half when we got home from school.
Cruelty was all we knew as my stepfather terrorized us kids and my mother.
In 7th grade and in a desperate bid to escape my stepfather, I began selling stolen candy. After the police got involved and tried to return me to my father, I finally ran away.
It’s a miracle that I survived my childhood, but it set me up for disaster.
Somehow, I managed to marry a fine woman and we had beautiful babies. But by then, just like my own father, I was a rampant alcoholic.
My life with my wife and kids ended after some violence at a Columbia pool hall. I got sentenced to life without parole.
But God had entirely different plans for me.
I’d been in prison for 25 years when, on January 7, 2019, at 4:15 p.m., I sat up in my bunk with a burning desire to see the daughter I hadn’t seen or spoken with in all that time. And then Psalm 139:8 came to mind: If I go up to the heavens, You are there. If I make my bed in the depths, You are there. And right after that, this message came rushing in: “How can I help you when you don’t know My Word?”
I was immediately convicted that God wanted my full attention and that I could no longer settle for being a “casual” Christian. My life had to change.
Only a few days later, God placed me in the path of a correctional officer who had collapsed. We learned later he had a brain hemorrhage, but in God’s strength, I was able to get him to the medical building, yelling at him the entire time to try and keep him conscious.
Not soon after that, I was receiving grateful thanks from prison officials, the officer’s family, and best of all, the officer himself who survived. Also, I’d received forgiveness from the family of the pool hall victim after writing to them for years.
And then came the biggest shock of all: On July 30, 2019, I was granted parole. It was a stunning reversal that came with conditions including that I reside in a facility where I would be held accountable. Nine facilities refused to take me when Providence Home said yes.
That yes opened every door to my new life. I was embraced and loved here and now serve as a resident assistant in one of our dorms. I minister to the elderly and homeless in the community. And best of all, I was encouraged to share my testimony and my youngest daughter heard about my conversion. An exceedingly accomplished young woman who holds a PhD, a high-profile job and enjoys a wonderful family, we agreed to meet at the zoo.
So it was, after almost three decades, I was reunited with the daughter God used to inspire my surrender to Him. Today I have the privilege of knowing and loving her, my son-in-law, and my amazing grands.
Where once I associated family only with pain, there is now pride and pleasure. Above all, there is praise for the God who refused to let me use my past as an excuse and has given me every reason to rejoice in tomorrow.