When I was in the midst of the most difficult time of my divorce, it was a struggle for me to go to Eucharistic adoration. I was hurt, angry and disillusioned about the turn that my life had taken and my initial reaction was to place this blame on God because I knew He could have stopped this from happening if He had wanted to.
That idea alone was the embodiment of the faith struggle that I was having at the time.
While all of this was ongoing, I had a usual hour of weekly adoration that I was still trying to accommodate but it became increasingly difficult to do so.
At first, I would get in my car and go somewhere else. That tactic made me feel even worse, so I decided that I just had to go to the chapel. I would arrive and sit in my car looking up at the frosted windows trying to intuit if there was someone else already inside. Eventually, I would just have to get out and go in. It was impossible to tell if I would be alone.
Most of the time, I would be really angry if someone else was there during my time slot because it had become almost impossible for me to sit calmly. I would stand in the back of the chapel and then pace the length of the room. The most that I could usually handle was about 10 minutes before I had to clear out or become a sobbing mess.
This weekly struggle lasted for quite a long time and I have often thought about what it all means—I could hardly go to adoration but I couldn’t stay away either. At this same time, I went to confession almost weekly and saw both a spiritual director and a secular therapist who worked hard to help me sort out my feelings, deal with my hurt, and try to find some way to forgive.
I remember how I would get irrationally angry with myself for not being able to just go and sit quietly for my hour of adoration but now, with a little distance, I can see that at the time, the hurt was just crawling around inside of my skin and spending any time reflecting on that was almost a physical impossibility.
I bring all of this up because even during these most dark of times, I know that my soul received some comfort being in the presence of our Lord. Even when it seemed as if my body and soul were at odds about what was needed, the continual tug to go to Eucharistic adoration was so strong. I just couldn’t stop going completely. And that I believe, is the most important aspect of adoration.
Even when we don’t know or can’t see the way out of a difficult situation, spending time—any time at all—alone with our Lord feeds our soul and helps us to make sense of where our lives are going.
We have such an easy time beating ourselves up when we are struggling. We always speak so negatively: “I just can’t sit calmly in an hour of adoration—what is wrong with me?”
What we need instead is to focus on the positive: “It is so good for my soul and healing process that I can even manage to spend 10 minutes here in the presence of our Lord.” These are the small gifts we can offer—those that seem like the biggest sacrifices in our life at the time.
If you have been down this road of divorce, did you have a hard time praying? How did you experience your time in adoration?
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