One family’s way of the cross

When our foster daughter was 2, we had to give her up for Lent. She had lived with us just over a year at the time, and over the course of that year her biological father had taken the parenting classes and met the conditions the court required for her to be placed in his custody. We knew that the timing of the return was such that she would be moved from our house right before Easter.

That Lent stands out as the most difficult of my life. Week by week, she began spending more and more time with her biological father. A full day. An overnight. A weekend.

When the time came, my husband and I and our two sons, then 5 and 9, said goodbye by blessing her with the Irish prayer, “May the road rise to meet you,” and buckled her into the car seat in the back of the social worker’s car. I remember waving as the car turned the corner, hoping that the children’s court judge knew what he was doing in placing that child in her father’s custody, but not really believing that he did. Continue reading