Through a Crucible to Springtime
by Lindy Morelli
I hope with all my heart to be able to share this story with you so that it will be a source of encouragement and solace. It is my story; more aptly, the part of my story which is about my being assaulted by a Catholic priest and how I was healed (was able to recover from it.) It is an intensely personal story and it is a story of hope. My earnest desire is that you, the reader, will be able to find something helpful in it for yourself or that you can pass it on to others if it helps you.Note: All names of persons, institutions, and geographical locations have either been omitted or changed.
Introduction
It was July 1988, and I was twenty-three years old. I was young, naïve and fragile at the time. Futhermore, having been totally blind since birth due to an accident which occurred then, I was very much at risk and extremely vulnerable. Also, as a result of tragic circumstances, I was desperately wounded, and shattered emotionally even before the assault.
Childhood TraumaMy mother is a beautiful, courageous person, and has been a great blessing to me and many others. Nevertheless, she suffers from a serious mental illness and struggles with many limitations. To be sure, she did her best in my formative years, but unfortunately her illness left me traumatized and wrecked, and we were unable to bond.
Moreover, when I was four years old, I was sent away to a school for the blind, and since the school was far away from my home, I saw my family infrequently. As time passed, we became more emotionally distant, and losing them was intensely painful. Especially difficult was the separation I suffered from my identical twin. I experienced her loss as if it were a death. I was utterly abandoned.
Throughout my growing up years I longed earnestly for a family. I constantly searched for human love and for secure close relationships. I needed a home and a place to thrive. I yearned for encouragement and comfort. Yet, my desperate needs for a family was heartbreakingly unfulfilled, and life was a painful struggle and deep sorrow. Nonetheless, in spite of this agonizing darkness, I had a strong and vibrant faith and was gifted with enough love to survive. Moreover, faith upheld me and was the bedrock of my life, so I persevered despite great anguish.
Initial AcquaintanceshipIn 1987, I went to Medjugorje in Bosnia for the first time. Medjugorje is a special place of profound love and religious pilgrimage. Being there changed my entire life and gave me solid direction. In fact, the sense of call to be there as much as possible at that time is just too difficult to articulate. In any case, within a three-year period, I went to Medjugorje often, and on one of those trips, I met Father X. in May of 1988.
Also, around that same time, I had begun discerning a religious vocation. I wanted nothing more than to be part of a loving community of prayer, and longed to live my life as a nun. Even so, though I had this clear and ardent desire, I still felt hopeless and alone. None of my earlier wounds had been healed, and I was suffering extraordinary anguish. Besides, at that point, due to a series of crushing and cumulative disappointments, I was especially susceptible to hurt and I felt ruined. I urgently needed human support and thought Father X. would be a safe person. After all, I concluded, “He is a priest and a servant of God, so he will show compassion and kindness! Maybe he’ll be able to help me,” I hoped. “And maybe he’ll be a confidant.” Without a doubt I was almost despairing, and was actually searching for a lifeline. I desperately needed someone to trust, since I was at a crucial juncture. Thus, soon after the trip, I began writing to Father, and poured out to him all of my troubles.
When returning from our pilgrimage that spring, I was asked to help with music at the prayer group Father was involved with. While there, I was introduced to his sister Kate and we became pretty good friends. I visited often to help with the prayer group, and spent lots of time with Father and Kate.
During one of my visits, the idea of going to Ireland together was proposed. Father and Kate’s family still lived there, and I would have a chance to meet them and spend time. Even so, I didn’t have much money saved for the trip, and I remember how urgently I scrimped and scrounged so that I’d have enough needed for the plane fare.
Oh, how overjoyed I was to finally be going to Ireland ! It seemed like a dream come true, and I felt it was a chance of a lifetime. Indeed, how alive I became when thinking about the trip, for Ireland is in my blood. (Well, it is, literally, since I’m Irish on my mother’s side.) I wanted to learn about the country and the people, and somehow, even though I’m an American, I felt that in Ireland , somewhere long ago perhaps is where my roots were really planted. At any rate, I longed to be there; I wondered and dreamed about it often. Yet, I didn’t actually realize how strong this longing was until the chance to travel there came about.
Premonition
It was July 20 th. 1988. The big day had finally arrived! Scurrying around I was getting things together, preparing for the long trip ahead of me. Excitement filled me as I boarded the bus, going happily off to New York City . How wonderful it would be out in the green, lush countryside, and I couldn’t wait to hear some Irish music. Kate and I were going to fly together from Kennedy Airport , and as I neared that crazy place, my excitement mounted. Once I arrived though, everything drastically changed; a powerful foreboding overtook me! Out of nowhere, it seemed, and for no apparent reason, a mighty sense of dread consumed me.I simply couldn’t imagine getting on that plane. For the life of me, I didn’t know what to do! From that point on, I was paralyzed with fear, but I just didn’t trust my intuition. I even called someone to confide in from the airport, but she brushed my fears away and tried to comfort me. So, despite this terrible panic, in the end I got on that plane, but all during the trip, I was in agony. I have never felt such terror either before that time or since. I can only suppose it was a premonition.
As day began to break, we got closer to our destination, and the sun was bright and cheerful when we landed. So in spite of my trepidation, the tranquil early morning soothed me. Somehow I felt I was coming home. I enjoyed the quiet ride through the Irish countryside, and as we drove through the picturesque towns, my spirit lifted. We stopped along the way at a friend of the family’s house to have a cup of tea and rest a while. They served us freshly baked brown bread with Irish marmalade, and I’ll never forget how good it tasted to me. How beautiful it felt to be there at last, in the land of my ancestral home. On that morning, at least, before everything went wrong, I never could have dreamed of what would happen.
After a few hours driving we arrived at the family homestead, which was located in a quaint old Irish village. Father’s sister Susan, and his mother came out to greet us, and the welcome and warmth they showed comforted me. A traditional Irish breakfast had been lovingly prepared, but as we sat down to the meal the trouble began.
ForebodingsSuddenly, Father and Susan started arguing with each other. They quickly became completely out of control. I just couldn’t get over their hateful disdain, and was incredulous at the venom they hurled at each other. Doors were slamming as they screamed fierce insults. I never did find out what it was about. I was thoroughly frightened by it. It totally floored me. Yet there was no possible way to escape the chaos. “Something here is just not normal,” I thought, as dismay and alarm overwhelmed me. “What am I going to do if this gets worse?” I panicked, for the raging around me went on and on. No one in the family seemed happy or at peace. Even more, Father and Susan never hid their contempt. Why was there such bitterness and hatred between them and what on earth was wrong with this family? For the whole rest of the trip, everything went wrong, and though I tried to go on being cheerful, it all went sour. “What kind of place am I trapped in?” I questioned. I just couldn’t believe how bad it was! Oh! I didn’t want the nightmare with Father to really be true. I didn’t want my cherished dreams to be ruined.
I stayed in Ireland for twelve unforgettable days, and the effect they had on me is irrevocable. Of course, that is true, because of the assault, but despite that tragic occurrence, I have great hope. The assault and its aftermath are not the sum total of my life. Indeed, it’s a miracle that I’ve recovered. Accordingly, I hope that my experience can benefit others. Thus, I’ll be as transparent as I can.
AbuseMy first night there passed quickly due to the jet lag, and after I got some rest, a new day dawned. Undoubtedly, in spite of the dreadful way in which things got started, I truly hoped it would soon get better again. Nevertheless, though I longed for a safe and comforting visit, Father X didn’t waste any time at all. He immediately began his life-wrecking advances.
Early every morning, he would come into my bedroom, when the house was all silent and still. How sinister and stealthy he was in all his actions. He didn’t even make a sound. “You’re so beautiful,” he’d whisper in an awed and soothing tone. He was gentle and kind at first, so he hooked me in. “You’re my strength. You’re my salvation,” he’d continue, in an uncanny voice, while devouring my delicate skin with his filthy fingers. I was terror- stricken then, and became dreadfully alarmed. I desperately wanted to get away from him. “Oh! This just isn’t right at all,” I’d protest in fright and horror, but then since I wouldn’t give in, he’d become more cunning. “Oh, you can’t be so naïve if you want to be a nun. I’m only really trying to help you. I care about you a lot, and I know you’ve really been hurt, but I’m only doing what’s best, so you can be healed.” He’d say despicable things like this. As time went on I doubted myself. He betrayed me, since I trusted him implicitly. ”Is the water warm enough in your shower,” he’d smooth-talk. “If it isn’t, I’ll come in to fix it next time.” He was vile. It was ghastly! I was utterly appalled. Yet, regardless of my feelings, he was relentless. “Is your menstrual cycle normal? When is it,” he’d go on prying. “Whose clothes are hanging there in the bathroom?” I thought he was insane. It was incredible! I was sick! Still, his tactics intensified. He was ruthless. Then, advancing ever slowly toward his goal of raping me, he got closer to reaching it as the days went on. “This is wrong,” I’d plead in terror, for I wanted to be left alone, but he’d come up with the most wicked, ingenious statements. “I’m a priest! Don’t insult me. I have holy hands,” he’d say, while putting the crucifix tenderly up to my lips. There are no words to describe the evil poison in what he was doing. He had my whole life in his hands and he just smashed it. He was disgusting and revolting! I was confused. I was losing my mind; I had no idea on earth what was going on. Though I tried and tried to stop him, he was gradually wearing me down. He was treacherous and eventually overpowered me.
He Becomes a Madman
Nonetheless, after five more days, he still hadn’t managed to rape me, so during the second week, he came up with a plan. “Come on a trip with me, to see the country,” he invited, but by then, I feared he was dangerous. I just didn’t trust him. He wanted to get me alone without anyone else around. Even so, when he couldn’t convince me, his rage boiled over. “I’ll force you to come with me,” he growled in icy derision. However, I flatly refused, and his wrath hit the ceiling. At once, he became a madman, and dropped all pretense of being nice. He turned from holy priest to devil overnight. Doors slammed thunderously as he spit out foul curses, abusing everyone who came in sight. “Son! stop screaming, calm down,” his mother exclaimed. “ You are totally out of line in behaving like that!” “Just get out of my way,” he hissed. Wildly, he pushed her aside. Brimming with malice and spite, he was crazed and determined. I was terrified of him. He was brutal and filled with hate. Even the sound of his loathsome voice thoroughly repulsed me. “If you don’t give in to me, I’ll just leave you here,” he jeered. ”And you’ll have to find your way back home yourself.” Cruel and vicious in his fury, he was full of bitter contempt. He detested me, and wanted to destroy me. “Just give me what I want. I don’t care what happens to you! If you don’t do as I say, I’ll leave you stranded.” He had turned into a monster as the days went sorrowfully on. Yet, though I was filled with dread, I kept resisting.
After he was gone, I told Susan about what was happening. What a horrendous situation. I was trapped! Since I desperately wanted to believe that he was upright as a priest, I simply couldn’t fathom such great evil! Moreover, I was despondent, and urgently needed a friend. I couldn’t comprehend that he’d turn against me. Somehow, I kept thinking that he’d have a change of heart. However, when I told Susan, she was outraged. Astounded and terribly distressed, she had no respect for him! Insulted and mortified, she held him in scorn. “He’s untrustworthy. He’s a sham,” she exclaimed, as her anger blazed. Her demeanor implied she thought he was truly dishonorable.
TrickeryWhen he returned from his travels a few days later he was nice, so I figured he had changed his intentions towards me. It’s hard to believe it now, but I just couldn’t grasp his depravity. Needing and wanting to trust him, I was utterly deceived.
On that last Saturday afternoon, we were left alone in the house. Susan and Father’s mother had gone into town. Father was pleasant at first, but he used that to trick me again. Calculating and devious, he continued to con me. “We’ll have our tea now,” he said, while setting out the chicken and lettuce. Then, somehow, he caught me off guard, and the torture began. By once again posing as my intimate friend, as a father, confidant, or safe person, he manipulated me, and beguiled me once more. By deluding me, he ensured my unwavering trust.“Let’s go into the living room now,” he said, while taking my hand and acting friendly. Then under the guise of light-hearted play, he moved forward in his schemes and advances. “We’ll sit on the floor by the fire,” he went on, but suddenly, he pinned me down flat. Slowly, he sweet-talked as he eased my blouse off. Quickly, he was reaching his goal. Surely, he would have done so right then and there, except that the doorbell interrupted him. During all of that, I was stupefied and numb, in a fog, just going through the motions. It’s hard to understand or to explain it to anyone else, but during dire trauma, the mind shuts down.
The trip was coming to an end, but Father was unrelenting. He tried to win me over once again. “Do you want me to hear your confession?” he asked one evening, right after dinner. However, needless to say, I lost all respect for him. I simply didn’t regard or trust his priesthood.
AssaultThe last day arrived and we were headed to the airport, and after our goodbyes, we boarded the plane. Father was sullen and surly as we got on with the flight. He resented my relationship with his family. “Why did you have to spend all that extra time with Susan, and why did you bother to take down Sara’s address?” Sara was his niece, and I was very fond of her, but Father was jealous of that, and his anger mounted. Incredulous at his conduct, I thought he was crazy and strange. He almost acted like a jilted lover. “The trip was awful,” he sulked. “You disappointed me!” Bemoaning his failed fantasy, he went on complaining.
Afterwards, they got ready to show a movie. Also, they were passing out duty free items. Yet, I didn’t care at all, for I was in a daze. I was in excruciating pain. Believe it or not, it was at this point that the assault actually took place; on the airplane no less; in the middle of the day; with lots and lots of people all around. When the movie screen came down, they turned the lights down low and many passengers fell off to sleep. Father oozed with kindness, as he put on another charade. Since this was his last chance, he was indomitable.
Softly and ever so sweetly, he continued with his hideous farce. Deadly sick, I was wretched. His tactics were lethal! “You must be cold now,” he said while silently spreading the blanket gently over me. Then tenderly cajoling, he caught me in his ruse. He carefully arranged to desecrate me. “Sit back a little and relax, he remarked. He was trying to position me just so. “Did you ever have an orgasm?” he asked. I was stunned. I don’t know if I answered. I was reeling. What a horrible, filthy, inappropriate question! He knew I had no prior experience. I thought he was outrageous, but I couldn’t defend myself. My insides were like water. My mind and heart dissolved. Thoroughly aghast, I was immobilized.
Dogged in his purpose, he wanted regular intercourse. Undoubtedly if there wasn’t a stationary seat divider between us, he would have jumped right on top of me. As it was though, I was spared that. Nevertheless, he slew me! He left me in a shambles. He was calloused! Consequently crushing me in body and in spirit, he robbed me of hope’s light and youthful innocence. Vicious and brimming over with fiery bitter rage, he set out to destroy and to defile me. Then thrusting himself upon me and causing great physical pain, he wrecked me by the hate he had stored up, as with all the strength within him and with mighty violent force, he penetrated me fiercely with his finger. Time stopped dead. My entire being was screaming. A major cataclysm had taken place in my brain. I was frozen solid, thoroughly ruined.
A little later on, the lights came back on and people started moving around the cabin. The stewardesses passed out snacks and customs forms to be filled out. Everything went on like nothing had happened. Then, I vaguely remember Father saying something ridiculous, when that famous Irish song came on over the loudspeaker: “ Limerick , You’re my lady.” He craftily changed the words to “Lindy, you’re my lady.” I couldn’t believe my ears. That was preposterous! At some point, he even had the nerve to invite me up to visit him when we got back, as if we had mutually agreed to be lovers or something. He was totally crazy! In a dream world, out of his head! I was ground to powder, paralyzed, shattered.
Aftermath
The flight was finally over. We gathered up our things. Traumatized and sick, I could barely walk “Are you ok,” someone asked me as we de-boarded the plane, ”you look as white as a ghost.” I was annihilated. Overcome with nausea I could barely stand up. Everything was spinning: I felt I was dying.
The pungent sweet smell of sickening brandy permeated the air. Since someone had broken a bottle, it was spilled on the floor. Clinging to the luggage cart, I could hardly breathe, desperately ill and afraid, as shock overtook me.
Father left quickly without saying much after that, and his nephew helped me take the train back to Kate’s house. Oh, what a horrendous, unforgettable trip, for as the train lurched back and forth, up and down, from side to side, my insides were collapsing into nothing. The nausea was unbearable, and from very deep within, my spirit cried out in utter despair and writhed in terrible agony. I was in a fog and scarcely knew where I was, but after a very long time, we reached Kate’s apartment.
When we finally arrived, Kate was waiting for us. She had returned to the States several days earlier. I was still in a blur, but after we were settled, I tried to talk with her about what had happened. Yet, she softly brushed me off. She just couldn’t grasp it. Maybe she was thinking it was really no big thing. I don’t know, but her reaction was astounding. “Oh, don’t worry Lindy. He meant no harm,” she said. Since I didn’t go into detail, she couldn’t understand.
Later in the evening, I remember taking a bath. I was sick, in terrible shock, but no one could help me. Desperate, I felt infected, poisoned in every pore, but I simply couldn’t get free of the revoltion. The horrible deadly feeling of his clawing killing fingers! I couldn’t get rid of this, though I scrubbed and scrubbed.
The next morning Kate made breakfast and brought it in on a tray. That was thoughtful of her, but I was dumbfounded. What on earth was she thinking? Was she thinking I was just sick? I couldn’t believe her reaction. I thought she could help me!
Denial
Kate was in denial, unable to face what was real! She was kind and courteous, but struggling somehow, though I didn’t realize that until much later. After all, I was talking about a priest and the priest was her brother! I don’t know what she thought, but much to my great dismay, soon afterwards my friendship with her and with the entire family was severed! They just wouldn’t answer my letters or calls any longer. They never explained why, though. All I could figure was that they didn’t want to get involved, but oh how I sorrowed and suffered in shock in losing them so suddenly as friends! Part of me thought they were heartless. I didn’t know what to think. In any case, by that time, everything was over. I was totally hopeless, wrecked, demolished. There was no way out. Nothing would ever be solved. I didn’t know what to do. I just couldn’t fix it.
When I talked to a lawyer some years later, he told me that Father X was guilty of aggravated indecent assault, which is a violent crime holding up to fifteen years in prison. I did not consider pressing charges, though, and did not pursue a civil suit in court. I loved the Church and wanted to continue being a faithful member, not wishing to bring harm to anyone concerned. All I wanted for Father was that he get help, and that he take responsibility for what he had done. Also I needed to be sure that nothing like this would ever happen to anyone else. I simply wanted comfort, to be heard and vindicated. I needed loving care and gentle compassion.
Re-VictimizationUnfortunately, however, most of my story before recovery is like that of many others. I had my share of stonewalling, intimidation and rejection. I know how it feels to be pushed aside and ignored by church officials. When getting letter after letter from them without any answers or closure, I thought I would disintegrate on the spot. This revictimization, added to the first, just about drove me mad and nearly destroyed me! I couldn’t believe that the system was so unmoving! Besides, how could I, one little insignificant person, fight a whole entire system that seemed against me? It was impossible! I was beside myself. Thus, thunderstruck and terrorized by their cruel abuse of power, I sank into terrible confusion and abject despair. Totally rejected, I simply had nowhere to turn. Did they really think I made the whole thing up? Did they think I was their enemy or something? The thought of that was ludicrous, almost pushing me over the edge, but that is how I felt in response to their actions. I hurt so badly! Certainly, for me, this was worse than the assault itself. It was harder to accept it and to forgive. I was betrayed and abandoned, made to feel I was to blame. Thoroughly trampled and wasted, I all but gave up.
AgonyAccordingly, during that time, my life was in pitch-black darkness. Hope had completely failed me. My agony was endless. There is absolutely no way to express the chaos within. Panic was strangling me. I was dying of heartbreak. There was no way of getting up, though I tried hard to go on. My life felt purposeless. I was desperately lonely. Day after never-ending tortuous day, I lived in that dreadful hell. There was no solution. I didn’t know what to do! I felt my life was over. I was forsaken.
Miracles
Not withstanding, miracles happened during that horrible time, for I was given many tremendous gifts. Through that tumultuous period, one loving priest stood by me. I’m sure if it weren’t for him, despair would have drowned me. I met him in Medjugorje, Father Slavko was his name. He was an angel from God, a lifeline from heaven. God sent him right to me, and for this I‘m eternally grateful. Thus, despite this horrific crisis, I held fast to my faith. My love for God was my stronghold. It kept me from crumbling. Undoubtedly, Father Slavko encouraged me immensely. His love and kindness helped me to forbear. Moreover, he believed me that something had really happened, never doubting or questioning what I said. He was a strong shelter, an anchor for my soul. He was like Christ to me, for he understood me. Knowing that I was desperate, he understood the reasons. He helped to steady my faith, so I could go on. He said: “You have encountered great evil, but you must not give up! God has a good plan. You must trust!” So, clinging to what he said, with all my strength, I ran toward God, for I wanted to keep my faith and to go on living. After all, I came to realize that my faith was truly in God, not in the human institution. The institution failed and hurt me greatly at that time but God did not forsake or disappoint me.
Other Painful Issues
Nonetheless, in order to make this story as accurate as is possible, I need to digress a little and explain something else. Another huge obstacle complicated things even more. I just could not move forward and life was excruciating! As I have mentioned before, I earnestly longed to become a nun. However, none of the existing communities offered what I was called to. I simply could not find my place, and was totally lost! Furthermore, due to blindness, my options were greatly limited, since most communities don’t accept disabled persons. The sorrow and anguish this caused me is too hard to put into words. The hurt and disappointment nearly killed me. Yet, even though I was shattered, I just didn’t want to give up. I was young and still had dreams with a future ahead of me. Consequently, during those years, I tried frantically to solve these problems, but no solutions came and I was despairing. Though I struggled with all my strength to get out from under it, that dreadful, unending avalanche of insurmountable problems kept falling down relentlessly upon me. I was utterly stymied It was destroying me. Thus, totally despondent and discouraged on all accounts, I had reached an immovable impasse. There just weren’t answers. I almost gave up. However, God’s presence was in that abysmal darkness. I was sustained by God and persevered.
Healing GraceHow amazing it all is when I look back on it now, for answers and help can sometimes come in the most incredible, unexpected ways. In the early 90’s,when all was most dark, a life support of hope came to me. Answers and clarity came later, but eventually it all got resolved. I mean nothing is ever perfectly resolved on earth, but for me, the solutions I sought to those unsolvable problems finally materialized at last. It was a miracle!
PrisonTo be sure, God works in mysterious ways, for I found deep solace at the prison. I know it might seem funny, but since I was in college I had been doing volunteer work there. Getting to know the people was very important to me; I grew to love and cherish them as friends. In the early 90’s, I didn’t know what to do, so after the assault, I went back to the prison and threw myself into working as much as I could. Trying to be of service gave me joy and purpose. The people gave me great hope and strength. Even so, at that time, I was still buried in sorrow, and couldn’t grasp the riches of that gift.
At first, I just went there to help with the music for Mass. However, as time went on, I got more and more involved, writing letter after letter to befriend the people there, helping them in any way I could. During the early 90’s, they became like a family for me, since I visited them nearly every day. In fact, for several years, I went to the prison so often that when the corrections officer saw me at the gate, he would sometimes joke and say, “Oh, you’re here again? We’ll have to get you a locker and a bed.” In any case, the people there and I loved each other. I understood them and they understood me, since we all felt trapped, and alone. In trying to comfort them, I was given comfort. I believe their love and prayers held me up. The days were made easier in just being with them. The prisoners brought sunshine into my life.
GlimmersAlso, around that same time, after a tremendously life-killing struggle, my efforts with church officials at long last began to bear fruit. This was, however, before the scandals broke out, and things weren’t yet out in the open. Likewise, since the assault didn’t take place in our diocese, it wasn’t in our bishop’s jurisdiction, and the fact that he even made an effort to help is somewhat miraculous. At first, he was reluctant, and uncertain of what to do. Yet, after several desperate, frantic conversations with me, he acquiesced. Needless to say, when all that was going on, though, I was too distraught and angry to see that we were making a positive step forward. Even so, in looking back, I realize that if it weren’t for our bishop’s assistance, the process toward reaching a total resolution would never have even taken place.
In 1993, through his efforts, a hearing with church officials was finally organized. At the time of the hearing, he arranged that Father be present to testify. I was also present to give testimony, and the hearing was recorded and transcribed. An objective panel of arbitrators was established to review the transcript, and after some months passed, a decision was made in my favor.
Recommendations were made by the panel to Father’s superiors that he receive a psychiatric evaluation and counseling. However, two more years passed, and I was still left hanging, having never received word regarding the matter. In terrible distress, I desperately needed closure. I needed to go on with my life! Thus, in 1995, I went back to our Bishop, begging that he try to get me an answer. He promised that he’d help me, saying he‘d look into it, but when even more time passed and I didn’t hear from him, I didn’t have the strength to call him back. Besides, even though I was deeply distraught about what I felt were sacrileges, and badly wanted to ensure the well being of others, I was tired of waiting, and was sick of that burden on my conscience. After all, I was getting nowhere, and I just couldn’t stand it anymore. So, I figured, by that time, that if anything else went wrong, it would be up to the church to fix it. In despair and disgust, I gave up at that point, and didn’t pursue it further till much later.
At the same time, even though I was appalled, outraged, and thoroughly dejected, I couldn’t let bitterness take over. My relationship with God was the most important thing, so I didn’t want to let it all just end there. Consequently, I decided to resolve that awful hurt, and did all I could to try to move ahead.
Healing GiftsAs I have already mentioned, those years were a terrible agony. Yet in retrospect, I realize, in utter amazement, that miracles of grace attended me then. Means of help and solace were placed directly in my path. My gratitude and joy is beyond measure. In an effort to move forward, I focused on those in need trying to share my gifts and to show compassion. Besides working at the prison, I visited the sick, sang in nursing homes, and worked at the local soup kitchen serving meals. In nearby housing projects, I met all kinds of people while coordinating many different outreaches. Being with those in trouble brought healing to my life. I found meaning and joy in being close to the poor. Sharing life with them brought me hope and great fulfillment. I found love and beauty in them, and a home in their company. Thus, despite tremendous pain, I came alive again somehow, and the days were filled with goodness in spite of deep sorrow.
Recovery
Also, in the early 90’s, another life-changing gift came to me, and perhaps it’s the most astounding gift of them all. How amazing it is, when I think about it now, for I never expected to find or gain healing there. Much to my surprise, as God would have it, though, I found myself attending 12 step meetings. A friend from prison told me how much they had helped him and though I didn’t have an addiction, I needed something, so I decided to go, to see what they were like. The people there were warm, kind and welcoming. I loved going there, since everyone laughed a lot. Everything they said made good sense to me, for despite all they had lost, the people had great hope, and so I listened and learned as they shared strength, faith, and wisdom. In calling all this to mind, I’m filled with gratitude, for as time passed, I put their peaceful ways into my life, and began to feel some relief. They had little slogans to live by like: “Just take one day at a time.” “ Don’t try to solve all your problems at once.” “Think of what you have, not of what you don’t have.” Things will always get better. “Do the next right thing.”
The people at the meetings taught me that, no matter what happens in life, we still have the power to choose our path. When bad things happen, we can respond in kind, but our life is a gift from God and of our own making. Being with them gave me my life back. From them I learned a new way of living. Besides, they had a beautiful family together, and I couldn’t get over the love they shared with each other. They did not judge and I was not put off by them, as I would have been had I gone through traditional therapy. They were people just like me, who had traveled a difficult road. Yet, through the goodness of God, they had found healing. I was astounded at how they had managed to rebuild their lives. I, on the other hand, often felt life was a crucible, and an unjust, fruitless, arduous, uphill climb. Still, through the wondrous example of the good people in the meetings, I learned to take care of myself and to let go of anger After all, how could I possibly put myself truly in another person’s place and how could I judge? I could go on blaming others and just stay angry forever, but that only made me stuck and very unhappy. I just couldn’t stay like that, and I didn’t want to. So, finally, when I realized that I could choose a new way of life and another perspective, everything gradually got better, and began to change.
Kevin
Not withstanding, even though I did receive some help and enlightenment up to that point, it wasn’t until I met Kevin, in fact, that healing occurred. Oh! What a fathomless, beautiful gift! Kevin was like an angel. He restored my hope. His friendship was priceless! Actually, there is no way to express what his friendship meant, for never before had I ever been quite as desperate, and never before had I been in such drastic need. When Kevin came into my life, I received comfort and healing. He was a refuge of solace. His love strengthened me. A gentle, compassionate person, his thoughtfulness was beyond measure. Hence it was easy to trust him, and to tell him my grief. Accordingly, during the course of our friendship, I slowly poured out my anguish. Piece by piece, pain upon pain, I revealed my life story at last. In the friendship with Kevin many traumas were soothed. My perceptions grew clear and life became normal. Little by little, peace came.
A Mentor
Moreover, during that same period, Kevin introduced me to a loving, wise professor who became my mentor. Nevertheless, at that time, I was so shut down, that if it weren’t for that extraordinary person’s kindness, I never would have worked through anything. Once, I remember him saying, “When I first met you, Lindy, you could hardly talk at all, because you were in so much pain. Remember all the letters you used to write me?” I wrote to Kevin every day as well. Indeed, I’m sure that if I couldn’t write, I never would have moved past the damage. Even so, with their help, I sorted through the debris, and climbed over huge mountains of hurt. Also, I discovered that there were certain unhelpful attitudes and beliefs I could change, so as not to be victimized again. By working the twelve steps, I was able to see them, for not only had they made me vulnerable to the assault and its aftermath, they had affected me deeply throughout life. Kevin showed me how to make life better. He actually helped me gain back self-respect. Thus, eventually, I faced all the traumas in my life and was able to have confidence again. Nonetheless, until then, life had been a rough ordeal, of which the assault indeed had become the climax. Even so, as time passed, hope and faith were being restored, and I was steadily able to move forward.
BreakthroughIn the years that ensued, I lived a full and happy life, and did not dwell at all on past events. Even so, in 2002, when the scandals in the Church were made public, it came to my attention that people were actually getting results in their cases. Something was finally breaking loose! No longer were people confined to shame and secrecy. No longer were they forced into hopeless silence. Oh, what a pivotal all-encompassing crisis! A massive purification of the Church. I, however, had heard nothing though years had passed, and didn’t know what on earth to do! Nonetheless, once I realized that something might actually get done, I re-contacted the Irish superior. “Oh, God, please let this finally get resolved,” I agonized, and pleaded with the superior for an answer. All sorts of questions were urgently on my mind, and though I despaired of solutions, I persevered. Did Father’s Order follow the panel’s recommendations, I wanted to know? Did Father X get an evaluation and counseling? If so, what were the results? Was Father still in ministry? These concerns and more were tearing me to pieces. After all this time, I needed an answer. Desperately afraid, I thought I’d reached another dead end. “Please,” I begged the superior, “Don’t let this go on and on. I can’t wait any longer! I need an answer.”
At first the superior was hesitant and didn’t know what to do. Yet, he was truly compassionate in his prompt responses. In accordance with the panel’s recommendations, he assured me that Father X had received a psychiatric evaluation and counseling. However, he told me that Father was still in ministry and that he would remain so, since he was scheduled to retire within a 2-year period. I wasn’t satisfied with that, because, in the interest of protecting other people, I wanted him to be removed immediately. Nonetheless, I didn’t press the issue, since I wanted to be respectful toward everyone. Also, I wished to know the results of Father’s psychiatric evaluation and treatment, but I was told that that information was to be kept confidential. I was terribly frustrated about that, because although I understood the need for confidentiality, I felt I was justified in wanting to know the results, and that it would help me if I knew what caused Father’s actions. However, on both counts, I contented myself with the information given to me. Circumstances weren’t resolved in the way I had hoped, but I didn’t feel up to fighting for anything else. Besides, in view of the fact that I was seeking a healing resolution for all that had happened and for all concerned, I thought it best to accept things as they were.
Notwithstanding, beyond all of this, and most important, was my pressing need for closure and reconciliation. Thus, at that time, I asked the Irish superior for a gesture of healing and good will so that I could be as completely restored as possible. Fortunately, in regard to my desperate needs, I was ever so happy to find that, by that time, a new superior had been appointed. The new superior was loving and openhearted, for not only did he do the bare minimum by acknowledging all my letters, but also his actions clearly showed his genuine concern. He was not just going through the motions, but sincerely tried to address all my needs. Beyond any hope of kindness I could have had, he was truly sensitive. I knew he actually cared about my feelings. So, even though I was disappointed in some respects in regard to how everything worked out, I think the superior did the best he could.
KnockIn 2003, as a sign of beneficence and caring, I requested that he authorize the Order to sponsor a trip for me to Ireland . I wanted to go to Knock and I asked him to come to represent the order and to offer a Mass of healing and reconciliation. He obliged me in the most gracious and thoughtful way possible.
Knock is a special and sacred place of pilgrimage in the west of Ireland , a place of transforming love and renewal of faith. Due to extraordinary events, which occurred there in the 1870’s, people from all over the world have been going to Knock seeking courage and consolation for over a century.
At that time, Ireland was struck, decimated by a dire calamity. A catastrophic potato famine swept through and ravaged the land. People were dying by the thousands; whole families were wiped out; sickness and despair spread like wildfire. Mayhem and disaster rose up like a tidal wave. To quell or remedy it was simply impossible! The people in the west of Ireland suffered most dreadfully. Knock, in county Mayo , was not spared. Nevertheless, at that point, during the worst of this disaster, a celestial and wondrous happening took place there, and the people were sustained by eternal love, fortified in the midst of abject sorrow.
It was August 21st, 1879 , in the evening. The rain was coming down in lashing torrents as the villagers returned home from the fields. Suddenly, while passing by the church gable wall, several reported seeing a breathtaking, beautiful vision of the Mother of God.
News of these events spread rapidly. This occurrence transformed the whole of Ireland , and gave the Irish people undying hope. They knew most certainly that God was present to help them, and were given strength and power to persevere.
Knock has been profoundly important to me through the years, and has become an oasis since the assault. I had also gone there many times in the past, so it seemed fitting that I meet the superior there.
Healing VisitThe Superior was most generous and kind. He took extra care to make sure I was comfortable. He organized apt accommodations with the Sisters, and for me, could not have chosen a better arrangement. The Sisters were hospitable, compassionate and loving, beyond any expectation I could have had. Being in their company meant a lot to me. While with them, I found consolation and healing. I don’t think the Sisters knew anything about my situation. However, the sister who cared for my needs was so Christ like and genuine, that just being with her gave me my strength back. In her presence, I felt safe, and that my feelings were held sacred. The welcome that she gave me put me at ease.
Special MassDuring the special Mass, which the superior had arranged, Susan, Father’s sister, was present. I was really astonished that she came to the Mass, since I actually hadn’t heard from her in years. The fact that she would make such an effort to come made quite an impact on my life. However, after the Mass, when I tried to talk with her, she simply glossed things over and shut right down. She couldn’t even admit the assault had occurred. It was almost like she was a different person. I was utterly astounded! I was hurt! I couldn’t believe it! Nonetheless, during the Mass, she was obviously in pain. Yet, she couldn’t have an honest conversation. Even so, apart from that, she was extraordinarily kind. So, even though I was deeply disappointed and hurt by her inability to talk about things openly, I realized that she must have been struggling with something, and came to accept her reticence in time.
The mass was held on a lovely spring day in a beautiful Carmelite chapel near to Knock. In that prayerful and loving setting, the superior prayed for healing. He prayed that it would continue and be accomplished. He prayed for all concerned, for peace, restoration and closure. He prayed for a new beginning in my life.
From my perspective, there is no better gift the superior could have given to me than the pilgrimage to Knock and that special Mass. He gave me his loving understanding as well, on behalf of the entire Order and the Church at large. He tried his best to mend all the damage that had been done. In the bearing of such a huge burden, he was exemplar. He was a wonderful person. I’ll cherish his memory.
ConclusionSince 2003, I have continued to grow and heal. The assault and its aftermath has scarred and affected me, but the ravages it caused no longer dominate. Having suffered such torture, I will never be the same, but I hope to use my sufferings in helping others. I have received many blessings and trust that as time goes on, my life’s work will unfold and become clearer. Words cannot express the gratitude I have for the kindness of the people put in my path. I’m sure if it weren’t for them, and for their generous gifts of love, hope and life would never have been restored.
In some small way, I hope this story can help others. I earnestly pray it can bring light, comfort and peace.
Lindy Morelli,
Spiritual Director, Counselor
www.alabasterheart.org
lnmr1@verizon.net
570-341-5858
FireThePope.com
P.O. Box 638 Geneva Illinois 60134 USA