Few things are more traumatic than a car accident — 2,000 pounds of steel and glass bending and scraping, with no respect for the limits or boundaries of the human body inside. There's a path of healing that every victim of a serious accident must take. Children with divorced parents have experienced a different kind of violent, traumatic collision. And every child of divorce must likewise walk a path of healing. It will, of course look different for different sons and daughters, but no one can deny that the emotional and relational bleeding needs attention, likely long after the papers are filed.
A chorus of adults with long-divorced parents will dismiss in unison: "I'm not broken, thanks very much. I'm not a project. I'm fine. It's not even a big deal. I'm not a victim, and it certainly doesn't deserve this much attention." I totally get that. Depending on the day, I might say the same thing if I read my first two paragraphs.
My parents divorced when I was nine. I'm not a victim, but the break still broke me. It wounded me in ways I could not control. Years later, because I didn't have the resources to work through things as a nine-year-old boy, certain forms of brokenness seem native and normal to me.
Divorce "attacks the self, because the self is formed within the belonging and meaning provided by the family. When it is destroyed, the threat of lost place and lost purpose becomes a reality. Without place or purpose, one becomes a lost self" (Andrew Root, Children of Divorce, 21). More than losing myself, though, I lost the ability to relate to my heavenly Father. I certainly didn't think that God had anything to say, or even cared, about the mangled, overturned vehicle in our living room. I'm sometimes still tempted to think that way today. But he does. He speaks. And he cares.