Yet there in some cold, darkened room,

A Presence, which wasn’t yet known,

Whose power could pierce through the gloom

All those fears he could rend

That poor heart he would mend

If only his beauty be shown.

Apologies — being willing to say “I’m sorry” — are an important part of any relationship. But how do we apologize well, whether it’s to a roommate, family member, significant other or spouse? Here are a few tips — what to do, and what not to do — to help build a quality apology.

My adolescent life was a playground swing.

Back and forth:

Between Mom

And

Between Dad.

I never knew where to go, nor where I belonged.

I didn’t know where home was, for I couldn’t be close to them both.

I have often wondered why, in the long history of the Church, we do not hear more often about saints who lived through difficult family situations. Surely there were plenty, but it is not usually the aspect of their lives that we hear about. And so learning of St. Eugene’s life, and reading through his letters, I found myself grateful to know that I had a friend in heaven who understands my particular pain. Even someone who lived in the 18th and 19th centuries, such as Eugene, experienced similar trials and emotions that we do in the 21st century.

I am writing from a deep place in my heart that is crying out, pleading to be heard, like the persistent widow who cries out until justice is hers. (Cf. Luke 18:1-8). If I could make my voice as loud as thunder, I would cry out to every bishop, priest, deacon, and lay pastoral leader to consider if they are doing what is necessary to accompany the newly married, the divorced, and the children from broken families.

No couple gets married looking forward to being unhappy in their marriage. But no couple avoids times in marriage where one or both spouses feel unsatisfied, restless, lonely, or just plain unhappy. Does that mean they have fallen out of love? Should they doubt their commitment? What should an unhappy couple do about their unhappiness?

With being an Adult Child of Divorce comes a healing journey that is complicated and messy, at best. This is the most succinct way to describe my own personal healing journey. It is one that I am very much still on, but I know that I am healing and am on the up and up. Like you, my journey has not been linear by any stretch of the imagination. It is one of many turns, bumps and painful feelings resurfacing—but that is because I, like you, am still healing. Healing is not linear;  however, the healing journey is always oriented towards heaven, so we are always headed heavenward in our healing. In this post, I will share six points that have been instrumental and life-changing—for me—in my journey towards healing.

In life, more often than not, we do not get the apology that is due to us. And when we do, it frequently falls short of the words we need to hear. I have come to realize, for my personal situation, there are no words big enough, or deep enough, or sincere enough to compensate for what has been stolen from me.  With this realization, I finally stopped asking and waiting for the apology that does not exist. My pastor says, “It takes one to forgive.  And it takes two for reconciliation.  One can forgive without reconciliation, but one cannot have reconciliation without forgiveness.” I chose forgiveness.

Two key things to remember in working with candidates who are children of divorce are to avoid the extremes and to discern each situation individually. Communities should neither overly fear the effects of divorce on potential members nor gloss over this fact and fail to see the lasting impact it can have (despite the possibility of the person themselves being unaware of its effects). It is often the case that the repercussions of divorce do not surface until young adulthood or the beginning of more intimate relationships. Hence, younger candidates are often able to present well if these issues have not yet manifested. Nevertheless, simply being a child of divorce should not disqualify one from a vocation to the religious life. Rather, each situation should be discerned individually with an eye to the person's understanding of the effect it has had on them personally, their prior healing work, their present manner of being in close relationships, and their openness to further healing efforts should issues arise in the future.

However, the whole point of Lent is to do things that bring us closer to the heart of Jesus. And, if I want to be free to love someone in the vocation of marriage one day, how will I be able to do that if I am still carrying around resentful anger towards my parents? Do they deserve this reaction? Probably, but God loves them just the same as He loves me. So I embarked on a forty plus day journey of loving my parents through the eyes of Jesus Christ, whose love was so big that He died on the Cross for sins that He did not commit (cf CCC 598).

For those not married who believe they are called to marriage, you may know quite well the brokenness that keeps you in patterns that delay your readiness for the type of relationship that would lead into marriage.  In whichever category you find yourself, I submit that marriage has the potential to offer you significant healing.  For those who are married, when your marriage becomes difficult, and it will, the key is to turn toward – not from – your spouse.  The more you turn toward your spouse, with Christ, the more healing you will find.  This is because holy matrimony is a sacrament that heals, and it heals through the communion and sacrificial suffering modeled after Christ’s own sacrificial suffering to restore communion between us and God.

Jesus has called me to serve Him now, and our community, in attending to the Eucharist.  Christ asked me to be a Eucharistic Minister in the fall of 2021.  I love being a Eucharistic Minister! I serve at Mass as well as bring the Eucharist to the sick and homebound.  Being spiritually and physically this close to Christ during mass, adoration, as well as bringing the Eucharist to the sick, has provided me much intimate time with Christ, where I have  received much healing grace as an ACOD.  And I know that Christ is guiding me to new ways to serve and attend to Him in the Eucharist. 

When I read Lucille Clifton’s “forgiving my father” poem, I was struck with deep resonance on how profoundly I related to it.  I realized that it actually ended up setting a framework for how I could track and understand my own (rocky) process of forgiving my own father.  I came to a few realizations about the process of forgiveness – both from the poem and my own struggle with it. So, in honor of this year’s Father’s Day, a day when we can reflect on our perfect, all-providing Heavenly Father, but also a day when we can acknowledge the grief in how perhaps our earthly fathers fell short, I would like to share what I realized here.

At one moment during the party, I thought to myself, “…Was this really so bad? Was this family life really so bad that it was deemed not worth fighting for?” While I do know that my parents’ relationship was not great, I still could not help feeling a little sad.

For adult children of divorce and parental separation, having trusted resources for the healing journey is important. The burdens and wounds caused by parental separation or divorce can have a significant impact and last a lifetime. That is why I think it is good to know about and consider if the Litanies of the Heart and a Catholic approach to Internal Family Systems might be something to add to your healing tool box.

The story of the Presentation of Jesus, as found in the Gospel of Luke Chapter 2, has always been one of my favorites, and has held a special place in my spiritual life as an adult child of divorce. When our parents are divorced, separated, or in a difficult marriage, the struggles in their relationship become the dominant force in the house. … In this beautiful mystery of the Presentation, let us look at the Holy Family, and allow them to teach us and heal us in those places in need of the Lord’s light.

This article is my life-saving text to you; it is my personal invitation to any adult child of divorce or separation to start (or continue) your own healing journey with Life-Giving Wounds.

My parents officially divorced when I was about 17 years old.  My father persistently campaigned for a divorce. He confessed that he had been in a relationship with another woman whom he had actually married while on his “vacations” in Egypt. Since I was the eldest of three, my mother would share her pain with me. To this day, being the main witness to her inconsolable weeping is one of the most painful experiences I have had as a 41-year-old man.

This past Christmas, like many others before it, was hard.  My “difficult” father tends to “act-out” during the holidays to get the attention he craves, and this Christmas was no exception.  So, my therapist suggested I do some restorative care to help heal my immediate father wound, and to help me manage my long-term depression: what Rick Springfield calls, “Mr. D.” 

Though I hid, self-protected and continued to wear the masks that I thought gave me some value, Jesus never stopped seeking the real me underneath.  He never abandoned me.  All the while, He was patiently working on me, preparing my very calloused and guarded heart to be broken again through the second loss of my dad.  But this break would be healing and redemptive, because it would finally let Love Himself enter in.  And He came in through another father, His father and now mine – Good St. Joseph.  I truly believe everything started with my simple prayer after that providential homily.  St. Joseph became the guardian of my healing journey and continues to be my strong and faithful pillar along the way, in both explicit and sometimes hidden ways.