Saturday Ramblins, Vol. 1, No. 9 (July 4, 1998)

Editor's note: As the editor of this newsletter, I take seriously our commitment to respect requests for anonymity, as does Papa Jon. We were both struck by the straight-from-the-heart way experiences are shared by this writer.

I was very careful in editing this article because I, too, am a survivor of incest as a teenager and of rape in my early twenties. I remember well my first few years of recovery and admire this writer's courage in sharing her experiences. It is very difficult to resist the three cardinal rules of a victim: don't talk, don't trust, don't feel. This writer has reached a new level of healing, by "talking" publicly in this forum. She obviously has learned to trust and to feel and expresses that with this closing remark, "I continue on my journey, and pray that I will also be able to pass on the great gift of love He's given me." --JA

My childhood was a difficult one. I grew up in a dysfunctional family. Passing from generation to generation, as dysfunction does, my mother's family was alcoholic and my father's family was emotionally out of touch. Our parents did their best, but my siblings and I have suffered.

I have survived emotional, physical and, most devastating of all, sexual abuse. Emotional "starvation" left me vulnerable to the sexual abuse, which continued until my 18th year.

My parents did give me the gift of faith, which enabled me to survive the abuse. I have no doubt that God was there through it all, in the form of angels—seen and unseen; in times of deep pain, loneliness and need, I felt protective arms of love surrounding me. That unearthly feeling brought peace, comfort, and a sense of security at times I might reasonably have experienced pain, fear and sadness. I know that God cries with us, and walks with us, through those times when we cannot walk alone.

As an adult I tried, with much difficulty, to put this pain behind me. I married and had children of my own, got involved with my community, church, etc. I lived a "normal," "happy" life until, 18 years later, I began to feel restless, and unsettled; there was even a distance between God and myself. It disturbed me a great deal. Confused, I didn't know what to do, or even what was bothering me.

Two and one-half years ago, I met a priest at my church. Devout and dynamic, his homilies touched me deeply. I felt a strong need to speak with him, but it was months before I made an appointment.

The courage to make that appointment occurred during Advent, when the priest was presenting lectures on the season. A serious case of bronchitis – with its consequent cough, fever and lack of sleep – almost caused me to miss a presentation. While I sat awake one night, thoughts of abuse came back to me; it hurt more than I imagined possible. I began to pray. I asked God to help to release this burden I'd carried alone for years and that, if I should talk to this priest, He would provide a way.

Only hours before the lecture, and after a lot of prayer, the fever finally broke and I felt well enough to attend the lecture, despite my husband's objections. The priest sat right next to me and, after the talk was over, he told of an incident he experienced 15 years before. A woman had come to him, because she just "had" to. He met and talked with her; she didn't say much, she just asked him to hold her. He did that, and then she left awhile later.

He came out of the room and spoke to the owner of the house. He said to her, "That woman was raped, wasn't she?" he just knew—the woman hadn't told him. The hostess told him the woman felt she had to see the priest, that he had to hold her, and she would be okay. The priest only knew she needed security, the sense of trust to ask him, and have him comply without hurting her or wanting anything of her. This he did, and it helped her to heal.

Hearing this story, I almost fell off my chair. It shocked me; it seemed so out of place, yet it was the answer to my prayers. I needed to speak with this priest about all that had happened to me. I called him the next day to set up an appointment.

I told him things I'd never told another human being. It was terrifying. Yet, I felt a weight lift from me. He told me things I needed desperately to hear, that I needn't carry the burden alone anymore and then he held me. I experienced more love and compassion at that moment than ever before.

This story continues. I'm still working through many difficulties. This man's heart is open to God and His love and he freely passes it on to those in need. He taught me to meditate and place my problems in God's hands, which has helped me a great deal. He has helped put back together a shattered heart and soul. He teaches me always to love and trust in God. What more can an angel be?

I thank God for him each day. I continue on my journey, praying that I, too, will be able to pass on the great gift of love.

We pray for this person and for all men and women who have been victims of sexual abuse, incest and rape. We hope that other members who have experienced or are experiencing such abuse will have the courage to seek help. Most cities and counties have abuse hotlines listed in the white pages. To that end, I also offer my e-mail address, should someone want to talk to someone who's been there and walked that walk: Judi Amey (jamey@execpc.com)

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