By Elizabeth A. Heidt Kozisek, Ph.D. | Director, Child Protection Office
Ask anyone and they will tell you that John is one of the most generous men they know. He is there for his neighbors, he provides for his community, he even cares for his care-givers. The unconditional love he shares for others is amazing by any standard and almost incomprehensible when you know his story.
John’s parents struggled with drug addiction. Their marriage didn’t survive, and parenting alone wasn’t working. Family life was marred by devastating neglect that resulted in death for a brother, institutionalization for a sister and for John, a long overwhelming path of use and exploitation by adults in positions of trust. Moving from Mom’s home to Dad’s and back again was more than chaotic. John experienced emotional and physical abuse by troubled parents and was not protected from the exploitative actions of strangers in the home. He was abused in the foster care system and within institutions whose charge was to heal and protect. A runaway in the city at 10 years of age, he was taken underwing by a group of older boys who helped him find shelter and nourishment. Unfortunately, this care came at a price. This band of boys, so in need of the care of a mother and protection of a father, were exploited by a man they called “father” — a priest who served youth on the street. The exploitation they encountered by this “man of the cloth,” in settings that mocked the holy sacraments of the Church, left John doubting his own worth, his own goodness, his own capacity to be loved. Yet somehow, John loves.
John, what makes it possible for you to be here today, sharing your story?
“I think really trusting for once. When I was at the VA hospital, and they were telling me I wasn’t going to live, and they didn’t have any answers for me, I met Father Sid … I could feel his acceptance of me … I felt very protected. I felt I could trust him … There was an overwhelming presence of not only him, but also somebody else. Like a big set of hands holding me. I could feel the presence, not just emotionally, but physically.”
Do you think it was the hands of God? “I know it was.”
What has been healing for you as you have lived this journey? “Sharing my story with Father Sid, talking to you, and the bishop, and Father Jim … Going to the retreat (The Way: A Healing Retreat for Male Survivors of Abuse) really helped, too. It was very emotional for me. Anybody who has been through this needs to go to the retreat and learn that they are not alone.”
Was there a turning point for you? “Meeting with Father Jim. I used to wonder, ‘What is wrong with me?’ I would curse God and blame him for anything and everything. I have been (spiritually) oppressed since I was a child, but there has always been something within my heart, some real commitment to love God … When Father prayed with me and asked me to bless him. That was a turning point.”
How have you been able to devote yourself so fully to others — serving in the US military, being a caring neighbor and friend for so many? “Because I say, ‘I’m not going to be like the rest of the world. I’m not going to be like that.’ … I don’t want to turn my back on Jesus. I see people hurt and in need and I want to help. I want to try to do that.”
How did your experience influence your relationship with God and the Church? “I couldn’t go to church. I am still uncomfortable going inside a church.”
What has been your path back to communion? “After Father prayed the prayers of exorcism, I was able to receive Communion. Before that, I’d had priests give Communion to me a couple of times when in the hospital, but it was hard. I didn’t think I deserved it … I went to Mass (for the first time since childhood) at the retreat. I have received Communion at home every week since. I have a neighbor who brings me Communion every Saturday or Sunday.”
How is it, John, that after all you have been through you not only see beauty in the world, but you create beauty? “God has given me some really wonderful gifts. I like music and working with wood. I play classical guitar. It just comes out of me. I used to read and write music, but not anymore. I’m not where I should be with it. I didn’t think I deserved it, so I didn’t use it.
“I have been setting up a woodshop in my garage for disabled veterans… or anyone with a disability to use. One of my neighbors has agreed to make sure it continues after I am gone.”
Do you have any advice for someone who is struggling with the pain of abuse? “Challenge yourself to heal and to trust, to find true peace. You can trust. You have to do it. You can’t do this stuff alone.”