A True Story of Love, Loss, and Miracles

Photo Credit: flickr/WolfSoul

On this day two years ago, a Snohomish County commissioner gave me the court authority to travel to Texas to remove my 6-year-old daughter from a house in that State and put her into my custody. The commissioner finished his ruling by hitting the podium and saying “I want that child back in Washington State NOW!” The courtroom, filled mostly with people I didn’t know, cheered and applauded, having heard all of the facts.

Two months before, in front of the same commissioner, we had lost the very same case. My daughter would be relocating to Texas, despite our legal objection, to live in a situation we knew little about. Finances and long distance parenting plans between Washington and Texas would confine our visits to once or twice a year. That loss brought on a hopelessness and a sadness of a magnitude that I’ve never experienced before. During those dark days in July following the relocation loss, our history together replayed in my mind.

I remembered the lonely drive to Portland over so many years before, three hours south on I-5, to visit my daughter for weekends in motels. I remembered our trips to the Portland children’s museum and to the Beaverton mall. I remembered zip locked bags filled with crackers and sippy cups on the guest room table. I remembered an Elmo doll, and building blocks spread across the floor. I remembered us struggling to fall asleep together, as kids ran loudly up and down the motel hallways. I remembered the time we had to stay in a cheaper motel because money was tight, and that my embarrassment kept me awake most of the night. I remembered how often I cried after dropping her off at the end of the weekend, and the long drive home that followed. I remembered doing it all alone, as a young single dad, never able to get far away from the reminder that this child of mine was stuck in a broken situation with parents living in different states. It was painful in a way I’ll never be able to articulate.

But I also remembered the pool at the Tigard Best Western, and my daughter resting her head on my shoulder as we swam together. I remembered the mirrored doors in our room at the Beaverton Marriott, and standing in front of them when she put her hands on my face for the first time and smiled. I remembered our laughs, and hugs, and kisses. I remembered when I got remarried eventually, and how much she loved spending time with my wife Lauren and I. I remembered our first gondola ride together, the three of us, from the hospital down to the summer festival that was waiting at the bottom. We all grew to be miraculously close. It was something beautiful growing up out of something broken.

But following the relocation verdict in July of 2009, Lauren and I were certain it was all disintegrating. All of our effort, our restraint, our love and support for this beautiful child was about to be negated; diminished and stuffed into a couple of yearly visits.

What we didn’t know is that we would soon learn new and urgent information from a criminal background check and a private investigator; information about serious risks to my daughter’s safety and best interest, that would radically change the trajectory of the entire relocation case, and turn it into a two-year custody battle.

“I want that child back in Washington State NOW!”

After hearing the commissioner, two years ago to this day, and feeling an affirming pat on the shoulder from my attorney, I turned toward the courtroom exit in a daze, with tears of gratitude already streaming down my face, and made for the door.  In the hallway of the Snohomish County courthouse, my wife and I threw our arms around each other, and wept. We were surrounded by family and friends. The years of struggle, of pain, of joy and discovery, of love and relationship, of patience and waiting, and of loss, were all revealed and connected in an instant. In an instant, we were given something we had hoped for, but never dreamed of. Within a day or so, we were at the Dallas airport holding my daughter’s hand, waiting to take off on a flight back to Seattle.

My daughter has lived with Lauren and I ever since.

If you think God isn’t at work or that miracles aren’t possible, please reconsider your position, and if you think doing the right thing will be easy, please reconsider that too. Sometimes, doing the right thing will cost you more than you think you can handle, over and over again. But God is durable- enough for the both of you. And if you can find a person with enough character, heart and selflessness to jump into your journey and to stay, fighting by your side every step of the way, then you too are truly blessed.

Where there once was brokenness, new families can emerge. What was once my story, or so I thought, has become our story. What felt like God’s abandonment at the time has proven to be just a part of the beauty of His grand symphony.