The Father’s House
Interieur van de Sainte-Chapelle, Parijs - Rijksmuseum, Netherlands - Public Domain.
For years the pain was buried, broken and bruised.
Some days it would scream until it shattered to tears -
Though they went ignored, they went denied
Though it would hurt.
I would hide the pain in bubble wrap and secure it with tape -
For I didn’t want my torn up heart to break anymore.
This brokenness;
This lonely tomb;
This splintering cross;
This suffering.
Of having parents whose marriage had broken,
Whose love had failed to last and now was GONE.
The tomb was dark, I couldn’t breathe.
“Stop crying!
Stop crying!
You’re acting like a spoiled brat.
Now, please be quiet!”
Those adolescent nights of wooden doors slammed by tearful screams.
Hurricanes of anger erupting yells to obscure a weary sorrow: for, at seventeen, I would do anything to hide the pain of my hurting heart—
Of a family life now broken to empty shards.
I believed the lie that I had no home; that nowhere I belonged.
In solitude and silence, mixed with ignorance and denial, I suffocated.
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.
Mom wanted me with her;
Dad wanted me with him.
Both gave me reasons opposing the other.
…I was lost in an abyss…
With Mom or with Dad?
My path was a bent, rusted fork in the road:
Nowhere seemed like home.
Such lies I believed.
But my Heavenly Father speaks these words to me:
Sweet Daughter,
You are mine. Come to my House. You belong to Me.
You have a home:
It is my Church;
It is my Kingdom.
You belong to me.
You are home.
Receive me in Body.
Receive me in Blood.
For your soul I shall redeem.
Your heart I shall heal.
Your being I shall make new.
You belong to Me. You are home.
Restored and redeemed in your Heavenly Father, your Loving Jesus and the Holy Spirit.
Fear not, child. Trust in me.
For I will make you whole again.
For you are mine.
About the poem:
This poem speaks to the common adolescent experience of living with divorced parents. Those oftentimes held-in feelings that come out through anger, the pain of being in between your parents, feeling lost and clueless, going back and forth between homes and feeling alone. This was my experience as a teenager, and I know that is it such a common one: going between two homes, weekend visits, long car rides, being in between your parents, arguments about what is best for you, and the like. Writing this poem was so healing for me, and I hope that it can bless anyone who can relate, especially if you felt like you had no true home or place you belonged. The truth is that you have a home in the Church with God, our Heavenly Father where you always belong.
About the Author:
Isabel is a twenty-something young adult child of divorce. Her parents divorced when she was eleven. She is passionate about using her God-given gifts and passions to serve the Kingdom which in this case, is writing pieces for other adult children of divorce like herself. She is an avid reader, a passionate writer, a coffee drinker, world traveler, and a perpetual learner.
Prayer for the home:
Visit, we beseech Thee, O Lord, this home, and drive far from it all snares of the enemy; let Thy holy Angels dwell therein to preserve us in peace and let Thy blessing always be upon us. Through Christ, our Lord. Amen.
(The above prayer was found on the EWTN website here.)
O God, Our Father, please help all children of divorce or separation to remember that we are truly yours, and that you have prepared for us a place in your Church, in your Kingdom, in your Home. Amen
Reflection Questions for Small Groups or Individuals
If your parents were divorced in your adolescence, what was that like for you? During the years where you’re not a child, but not an adult. How did you see it? What were the challenges?
What would you tell your teenage self that you would have needed to hear?
What would you say to a teenage child of divorce who feels lost, alone, and in between their parents?