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.

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).

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.

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.

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.

Every human soul is of more value than the entire universe put together, and each person is created in the image and likeness of God.  No human being can escape the loving gaze of God, no matter what the circumstances of his or her origin.  No Catholic, and no person, should ever deem oneself of lesser value if he or she comes from an “irregular” situation, for God sees all, knows all, loves all, and desires to save all (1 Timothy 2:3-4).

Upon entering religious life, I tried to hide in the coping mechanisms that had worked for me growing up, such as people-pleasing and anticipating others’ needs. I desired to please the Lord, could follow community customs and was good at serving others. Not only was I good, but was praised for my attentiveness to the needs of others and my generosity in service. As I continued further in formation, those coping mechanisms started to unravel and the truth of the pain I was in surfaced.

I have heard divorce described as an “ontological wound,” a wound at the very core of our identity. Our parents who created us divide, and so we in turn feel divided. This is certainly strong language, but I think it puts a finger on the intimate and vulnerable wound experienced by adult children of divorce. The pain of the wound can lead us to cry out to God for healing.

A couple of months ago, I was attending a women’s retreat... where glossy tiles of neutrals and shades of blue formed a gorgeous mosaic of the Blessed Mother. I kept returning my gaze to it, and I heard in prayer: “I see you looking at my mother—her maternal love is so different from what you have seen… My mother is tender, approachable, truly sacrificial, and only able to love fully and purely…”

 Ironically, “why” is the one question the Lord has never promised to answer. Even his own mother asks him why and he doesn’t answer her. Well, he does answer her, but not in the way she was probably hoping for. He says, “How is it that you sought me? Did you not know that I must be in my Father’s house?” He responds to her question with a question. What could Jesus possibly be teaching us?

I am here to tell you some amazingly good news! Jesus said in the Gospel of John, “I will not leave you orphans. I will come to you” (Jn 14:18). God, in His infinite wisdom, knows fully the hearts and minds of all His children. He would never write a desire into our hearts without also providing for its fulfillment!

This healing journey has been bittersweet for me. I have come to grips with the fact that I am a survivor of child abuse. The term still brings tears to my eyes and probably will for a very long time, only because it can sometimes make me feel like a broken doll, or what may be a more popular term, “damaged goods.”

The image of the Pieta by William-Adolphe Bouguereau was an image I had glanced at a few times over the years, but I believe the Lord had a specific time for me to be moved by that image, so that I could be led to love Him and His mother more deeply, and to be loved by them both in a new and profound way.

I was at a crossroads. My heart ached for this love to be true, I wanted so badly to believe it was for me, but I was so scared what that might mean. How silly! My life had changed 180 degrees over those 7 years, so what the heck was I waiting for? What was I scared of? I was scared that God would change his mind, like I thought love did when my parents divorced when I just a baby...

This is a poem about my parents’ divorce. The title “Flight 1015” refers to their wedding anniversary on October 15th and in the poem their love is metaphorically described as both the turbulence and the airplane itself. The poem is also a modern dialogue with Robert Frost’s famous poem about marriage entitled “The Master Speed.”

Spiritual direction is the art of guiding someone or being guided to greater growth in the spiritual life and ultimately to the goal of becoming the saint that God has created each one of us to be. Put simply: our goal in this life is to get to Heaven, become holy, and enjoy eternal happiness, and a spiritual director helps us to get there. The true spiritual director is the Holy Spirit, and so both the spiritual director and the directee must be in relationship with the Holy Spirit through prayer and the sacraments to be able to listen to His voice and follow where He is leading.

I discovered at age eleven that my parents’ marriage was breaking up. The words “broken family” became my reality. Fear of abandonment and loneliness took over and silence filled my days as I continued my everyday childhood activities.  My father was busy living his life while my mother was totally overcome by sorrow and betrayal.  Being an only child, I became silent and quite withdrawn.  What a deep hole was being forged in my heart!