EVERY SUCCESS STORY IS A GREAT STORY
Lisa and Tony Martinez
 
In 1996, after Tony Martinez got out of a drug treatment center, he felt he was doing well. He had a stable job at a bank. He was sober. Before long he got married. But Tony underestimated the devastating power of addiction, and he and his new wife began using again. 10 months later, she was dead of an overdose.
By 1999, Tony attempted suicide. He woke up, after a week and a half in a coma, to see his mother’s face at his bedside. “She said to me: ‘You’re either going to give up and die, or live. I love you. Now you’ve got to love yourself.”
Tony went to the Rescue Mission. Tony’s faith had always been present,  but had been buried by his addiction. Now that he was at the Rescue Mission, he graduated from Bible School and became a street pastor. Within a couple of years, he had helped start Disciple House, a program for homeless men.
In April 2004, he met Lisa. They fell in love immediately and were married within a month.
Lisa had never been homeless before that spring. She had three kids and was staying off and on with family and friends. For a time, she supported a partner who was using crack, and Lisa began using as well. Her oldest son, Matthew, went to live with his grandmother. The middle child, TJ, went to live with his father, who is still actively using drugs. And in one of the most painful decisions she’s ever made, Lisa put her daughter, Dani, up for adoption. “I didn’t give her up,” Lisa says tearfully, “I gave her more.” In the spring of 2004, Lisa went into treatment.
“These days, I’m doing pretty good,” Lisa says. “I go to church every Sunday with Matthew (her son) and my mom.” She’s trying to get visitation rights to see TJ. She’s been in recovery for over a year now.
While they were homeless, Tony and Lisa were supported by Wasatch Homeless Health Care — particularly by Alan Ainsworth, who encouraged them to speak out on behalf of people experiencing homelessness. Tony joined the Consumer Advisory Board of Wasatch Homeless Health Care.
In August 2004, Tony and Lisa got their own apartment through a supportive housing program called The Road Home. “We just want to be drug free,” Tony says, “and we’re getting there.” Lisa nods.
When I first met Tony, we were in a roomful of people at the National Health Care for the Homeless Conference in Washington D.C. Tony came up to me at a break, overflowing with enthusiasm, and said, “I can’t believe this! I look around this room, and it’s great to know that here are a whole bunch of people who give a damn.”
Tony’s enthusiasm is infectious: “I’ve got so much to say that I’ve just got to let it out!”
When Lisa reflects on homelessness, she focuses on how dehumanizing it can be. “After I became homeless,” she says, “I understood more. It would be nice if people would look at a homeless person and see someone who has the same problems as anyone else.”
Tony looks at her and nods in agreement. Then he adds, “A homeless person is a human being — some people just have more money than others.”
|
|
