One of the biggest struggles in my healing journey has been combatting foreboding joy. I say “combat” for good reason. It is often a battle and an immense struggle to push back against this ominous feeling that at any moment, even at the most joyous of moments, the other shoe could drop and something horrible could be just around the corner. That being said, I have hope because, although the battle is fierce, I am not alone in fighting it. None of us are.

Did you struggle to ‘fit in’ as a child of divorce? Same here. Did you, maybe, not even know that the child-of-divorce identity was writing your scenes? I had no clue. With the support of my therapist and my love of theatre, I have decided to do some rewrites; this is the first in a series of recollection reimaginings. Does it change my past? Of course not. But these rewrites are a gift to current me—because it allows me to process—and future me—as a way to remember I do not have to live in hiding and in shame. I can live in the joy and peace of Christ, and so can my past.

I feel disordered,

like the Israelites in the desert

in search of a home.

Dune after dune in life,

the ground constantly moves

creating tiny still catacombs.

Burying whatever

little security I had left

from the lack of my parents’ 

faithfulness.

In one of my counseling sessions, my therapist thought it may be helpful to create a list of my wounds that stemmed from my parents’ divorce.  When I heard the word “list,” I then thought of the word “litany.”  Thus, the idea was born to turn this list into a litany prayer. This helped in two ways: first, I was able to approach God in a tangible way to ask for healing and begin to receive it. And second, it was a “leave no stone unturned” experience where I could shed light on those wounds that were festering.

...if you’re also in this “secret club” of adult children of divorce, I’m sharing my story for you. In November 2024, I attended Life-Giving Wounds, a retreat meant for adult children of divorce and separation co-sponsored by the Archdiocese of Denver. At that retreat, for the first time, I heard stories like mine. Like ours. I cried to know that someone understood me in a way I hadn’t even understood myself.

...although Les Miserables seems at first like it would be a tragedy, it becomes a comedy: ending with marriage and heaven. Cosette’s parents’ separation cast her into a terrible living situation. Her life’s journey is a long slog, wrought with many uncomfortable trials and having to make due without a real home for a very long time. In the end, with her brand new husband and discovering just how deeply she has been loved by Jean Valjean, she once again might feel as though someone were saying to her, “Little girl, you are the queen of France.”

I still remember an impactful session where my classmates and I dove into a famous quote attributed to St. Irenaeus of Lyons: “for the glory of God is a living man; and the life of man consists in beholding God.” The aforementioned quote is often simplified to “the glory of God is man fully alive.” As a university student, I was not sure how this quote would resonate with me; but after years of journeying, suffering, and healing, I consider this passage a compass for the wayfarer that I am.

Wonderful and Stay Together for the Kids give clear voice to the devastating consequences for children of divorce, in different ways. Wonderful spoke the truth about our inner experience, especially in those moments where words seem to not be enough. Stay Together for the Kids spoke truthfully about the devastation of parental divorce being akin to a weapon of mass destruction in our homeland.

Little by little, praying to the Sacred Heart of Jesus has become the center of my prayer life. This Heart has become my ultimate refuge. The true “abandoned heart” is that of Christ—a heart that is both entirely surrendered to the divine will and filled with a love so intense that it cannot be contained within itself. An abandoned heart is a heart that gives itself. A heart that listens.

Drawing from St. Peter and St. Mary Magdalene, Fr. Carl reminds us that healing is real and ongoing. Their stories show that no wound is beyond Christ’s power to redeem and that each of us is invited into a mission shaped by our healing.

For many adult children of divorce or separation, personal wounds can feel heavy, confusing, and isolating. We may spend much of our lives trying to understand or heal our own pain. Yet this week, we are invited to turn our gaze toward Jesus, to encounter Him in His wounds and discover there the source of our healing.

But guilt, properly understood, is not the denigration of ourselves, but is instead an acknowledgment of our extraordinary, ultimately incalculable, value to God. Our acknowledgment of our failure is our acknowledgment of the vast chasm between what we have made of ourselves, and what we know God has made us to be.

For many adult children of divorce or separation, experiences of loss, grief, or brokenness can feel overwhelming—like something has died within us. These wounds can tempt us to believe that hope is gone or that healing is out of reach. Yet the Gospel proclaims a powerful truth: Jesus has authority even over death itself. He calls each of us—personally and lovingly—out of the tomb and back into life.

…the evil one thinks that he can tear us down by stealing from us. But he does not know the hidden counsels of God. When the evil one steals a coat from us, we may end up going on a mission to give our cloaks as well.

For many adult children of divorce or separation, it can be easy to focus on our limitations, brokenness, or past hurts. These wounds can cloud our vision—making it difficult to see ourselves as God sees us: known, loved, and chosen. Yet the Gospel reminds us that Jesus is the Divine Physician who longs to restore our sight and heal the deeper vision of our hearts.

For many adult children of divorce or separation, it can be difficult to let others, and even God, into the wounded places of our hearts. Like the Samaritan woman, we may carry shame, isolation, or walls built to protect ourselves. Yet Jesus meets us precisely there, thirsting for our faith and longing to offer us living water.

I was praying in adoration and reflecting on how hard it is to have a truth go from your head to your heart. There are many challenges that stem from having a broken home. The actual physical separation of our parents, the unleashing of so many physical and emotional problems, and the loss of identity and sense of purpose are just a few. These can make it hard for what we know to be true to settle into our hearts.

In this reflection, Fr. Carl connects the Call of Abram, St. Paul’s encouragement to persevere in hardship, and the Transfiguration of Jesus to our own healing journey as adult children of divorce and separation.

In this reflection, Fr. Carl meditates on the intimacy of God in the second creation account. He connects this powerful image to the Gospel of Jesus’ temptation in the desert, reminding us that being beloved does not mean being free from struggle.

In this Ash Wednesday reflection, Fr. Carl invites adult children of divorce and separation to enter Lent through true interior conversion. “Rend your hearts, not your garments.” While we receive ashes and practice external disciplines, the deeper work God desires is the healing of our hearts.