IN MEMORIAM: Ann Brentwood, director of the Survivors Network of those Abused by Priests (SNAP) in Tennessee.
From the NSAC News, 2.2.2010.
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IN MEMORIAM
This issue of NSAC News is dedicated to the memory of Ann Brentwood, who served for many years as the director of the Survivors Network of those Abused by Priests (SNAP) in Tennessee.
The National Survivor Advocates Coalition, pauses today to pay our respects to Ann for all that she has so selflessly done in the service of the human family.
Ann passed away on January 28, 2010 after spending more than 30 years supporting women who have been sexually abused by members of the Clergy in the Roman Catholic Church. Those among us who have been brutally raped, sodomized and otherwise sexually and spiritually moslested by those they trusted so much. Those whose faith and trust was stolen from them in ways that are incomprehensible to the rest of us. Those whose dreams have become their nightmares. Those who travel through the stygian abbyses of helplessness and hopelessness. Those who seek justice, compassion and understanding and are met with episcopal rebuff and disdain.
Ann is now, I am certain, at rest in that place where the greatest rewards are given to those who faithfully fulfilled Our Lord’s command to “love thy neighbor as thyself.” May the perpetual light shine upon her!
Paul tells us in First Corinthians, “Faith, hope and love remain, these three, but the greatest of these is love.”
“Ubi caritas, Deus ibi est.” Where there is love, there is God.
Dear Ann, Rest in Peace.
NSACoalition
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The following article is copied from the website of the Survivor’s Network of those Abused by Priests
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Ann Brentwood
Very few individuals – whether survivor, advocate, expert, author, lawmaker or leader – have done more to expose corruption, “out” predators, reform laws, and, most important, offer tender, patient and loving support for suffering men, women and kids who have been sexually abused by trusted authority figures. In a word, Ann was relentless. She was kind, gentle, smart, wise, but most of all, absolutely relentless. If she knew a survivor was suffering and tended to isolate himself or herself, she patiently called and e mailed time and time again until she got through and could at least offer some comfort and guidance. If she knew a predator was quietly moved elsewhere, she called, faxed, and emailed everyone she could think of (police, press, neighbors, congregants, officials) to warn them to safeguard vulnerable kids. If a SNAP member seemed like “leadership material,” Ann gradually and lovingly worked with him or her to boost confidence, teach skills, and nudge him or her toward more responsibility in the movement. She tenaciously, tenderly and single-mindedly built the SNAP movement in TN and then spread to the surrounding states. She did all this, and more, with the undying support of her dearest friends and SNAP colleagues Susan Vance, Mike Coode, David Brown, Jennifer Meier-Beita and others. David had been to see Ann in the hospital several times. Mike and Susan were there today when Ann passed. (Mike has logged literally thousands of miles in cars with Ann, criss-crossing the southeast, setting up support groups, reaching out to the injured and publicly exposing corruption.) Susan, in particular, has been the most steadfast support any dying person could ever hope for. And she’s been Ann’s “right hand” since the very beginning of their tireless work to “protect the vulnerable and heal the wounded.” No one could stretch a nickel like Ann. She was the most frugal volunteer one could imagine. And though it was very hard for her to ask for help, if it meant she could visit one more city and meet face-to-face with one more survivor, she swallowed hard and asked others for enough gas money to get there. More than once, on outreach trips, she ended up spending the night in her car, rather than forking over even $49 for a hotel room for, in her words, “just a few hours of rest.” Throughout her struggles, and there were many, Ann maintained an often sarcastic, always infectious and never mean-spirited sense of humor. At the same time, she could feel both achingly sad for a near suicidal victim and chuckle at the irony (and injustice) when his or her predator was to be honored at a church function. More than most, Ann saw and shared the humor in the often cold-hearted but nonetheless comic ducks, dodges and excuses offered up by frightened or callous church officials when they had to try and defend the indefensible before cameras or crowds. In short, despite the grim work our movement requires, Ann saw joy and brought joy and shared joy with literally hundreds of us who were so extraordinarily honored to have known her. The poet Raymond Carver wrote: And did you get what We know Ann was loved. –Ann’s loving colleagues and peers in SNAP NOTE: On Feb. 13th, there will be a Memorial Service for Ann in eastern Tennessee. Check with our TN SNAP chapter in a few days for details. (Susan Vance susan8324@gmail.com ) |
Our movement lost a compassionate and dedicated warrior early this morning. Ann Brentwood, SNAP’s long time Southeast Regional Director, passed away in a Tennessee hospital after a lengthy illness. We grieve for her daughter Jennie, her other family members and friends, and for the hundreds of wounded victims and vulnerable children for whom Ann cared for so deeply and fought for so tirelessly.
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The following insight into Ann Brentwood was provided by Mike Coode, Snap Coordinator, NSACoalition member and personal friend of Ann.
We all lost a good friend last Thursday (Jan 28). Ann Brentwood died while in hospice care, in Maryville, IN.. To those who never met her, be assured she had you in her thoughts, and be assured she was working on your behalf.
Ann’s indominable spirit was contagious. I am so proud to have worked with her the last few years of her life. More than that, i am so grateful to have had a friend so consoling, so caring. She knew how to comfort when necessary, to cajole when necessary, and just to be there when a person was in need. She had little patience for those who would harm her people, and little patience for those who covered up the harm.
Ann and I traveled thousands of miles throughout the South together, from Little Rock to Miami, and all points in between. We would meet with victims, the press, attorneys, and were able to ferret out a clergyman every once in a while. We would leaflet neighborhoods and churches, and on several occasions identify abusers living in the community. On those road trips, we would pick each others brains. No subject was sacred, no subject left unturned. Ann would ask questions I knew she had the answers to. It was her way to get me to analyze problems, and seek solutions. She would pick a topic (such as “water” or “that old man we just passed on the road”) and ask me to tell her a story about it. She loved this exercise and always praised my attempts at storytelling. Despite her strong will, Ann was never over demanding, and she was able to get the best from everyone. Her zeal was contagious, her energy equal to every task at hand. She never asked anyone to do anything she wouldn’t do, but at times she could be rather brisque with someone’s recalcitrance.
Ann was a happy person. She appreciated everything. She loved her mountains of east tennessee. She would take people on walks in the woods, and make it a spiritual experience. She loved her Diet Cokes and good food.
At times Ann was my little sister or my big sister, and at times I was her little brother or her big brother. We could get so mad at each other and the next minute it would be forgotten. She was the only person I would let smoke in my new car, and the only person I would let ride in my car without a seatbelt(confinement and seatbelts gave her flashbacks, but she would tell people it was because of her heart surgery).
I have known of Ann’s illness for over two years and the times we spent together were bittersweet. I knew they were coming to an end. in the summer of ‘08 we took one road trip (by air) to Los Angeles, and it was indeed unforgettable. She was able to get to know and love my Jana, and Jana her. Never has Ann laughed more than when I sat her in the cardinals’ throne in the Los Angeles cathedral, and told her the most sacreligious joke I had ever heard. She found humor in most everything. During that trip we did work of course, spending one day with Richard Sipe, a memorable day indeed. We never forgot that trip, especially the night the three of us ended up in a flea bag hotel. The inns were full from San Diego to Los Angeles due to a national convention (of stand up comics, no less).
Ann was constantly seeking truth, constantly planning the next event, constantly working. It wasn’t unusual when you called Ann she would say “I’m on the phone with a new victim- but I’ll call you right back.” And when she called back she would recount her conversation. She had an uncanny way of analyzing a victim’s needs- and she would find a way to meet those needs.
I have a hard time thinking of going on without her guidance… but I will. she would expect nothing less. I can do nothing less.
I love you, my Annie…it was such a privilege to have known you.
One Response to “IN MEMORIAM: Ann Brentwood, director of the Survivors Network of those Abused by Priests (SNAP) in Tennessee.”
February 3, 2010 at 1:40 am
Love never ends & knows no bounds with the passing into eternity.
May Anne Brentwood continue to help the RCC victims here on earth,
and may she enjoy the eternal bliss of Love from the Creator.