Visas and Tears

We've been planning this move for years. We've been working out the details for months. I've been working on visa applications for the past 3 months or more. We had to get new copies of our birth certificates and our marriage license, passports for the kids, vaccinations, background checks... And, every single document had to be translated into Spanish and certified by a notary. Then, each and every document, both the state issued doc and the translations had to be authenticated by the Mississippi Secretary of State. After that, those authentications had to be authenticated by the US Department of State's office. Then, those authentications had to be legalized by the Bolivian Consulate in Washington DC. This process was time consuming, expensive, and nothing seemed to go as planned. God was definitely teaching us something.

Everything began with just little bumps in the road, nothing major - mainly things to laugh at myself about. I ordered birth certificates, but forgot to include the marriage license, so I paid the processing fee twice. I got one type of background checks, but actually needed a different kind. Small things. Over the next few steps of this process, I began to feel the blows of frustration. This happened mainly when we began our authentications.

The first step was MS Sec. of State's office. I drove to Jackson and had these in my hands within about an hour. Not bad, and it would have been even better if the lady hadn't treated me like I was an idiot for wanting to move to Bolivia. At least she followed it up with a compliment and a movie recommendation.

Then came the US Dept. of State. I had to fedex these. They arrived on a Monday (via my fedex tracking number). However, according to the secretary, they have an intense security screening and did not receive them to the office of authentications until the following Friday. And, wouldn't you know it, they were closed Monday and Tuesday because of snow. So, I called on Friday to find out that they were finished and had left the office on Thursday. According to my Fedex tracking, they didn't leave until the following Wednesday. By the time I had them in hand again, it had been about 3 weeks. Leaving me just 2 and a half weeks to get my visas from the consulate.

I turned around and overnighted our application packets (including the app, our passports, birth certificates, background checks, bank statements, translations, and money orders). I tracked it, called to confirm receipt. Then called a week later and was told they were mailed back to me. Excited, I check the fedex tracking... nothing. This scenario repeated itself 3 days in a row. I was told they were sent "yesterday" or "last night." But my tracking number never registered. The Saturday before our Tuesday flight, we faced the decision of whether or not I needed to fly up there Monday to try and find our package. We were concerned. Were they lying? Did our stuff get lost?

I checked and I had just enough credit card points for a flight and car and a hotel room (which was meant to be saved for an emergency by the way). Ashley and I finally decided that I should go. So, I booked the tickets. I asked God to forgive me if I was having a lack of faith, and I packed. With all the emotions of our move - the good byes, the weeding of our stuff, the chaos of our lives living out of suitcases - every step was made that much harder. Things we'd normally take in stride, felt like tidal waves.

I left Sunday afternoon and tearfully drove to the Jackson airport. I was dealing with anger and frustration at the circumstances, because this had just cost me 2 days of time with my family. I boarded the plane at around 6:30 pm. After a connection in Charlotte, I landed in Baltimore around mid-night. I was tired, but excited to see that my rental car reservation of "hyundai accent or similar" turned out to be a beautiful 2013 white ford mustang with cream and black leather interior. That is way better than an accent...sorry to the accent owners. 

That little joy didn't last long. On my way to the hotel, I got lost and stopped in the middle of no-where with not a car in eye's view to look down two roads to see where I was. Stupid me stopped under a traffic light that was green. But when I got my bearings, it'd turned red. So as I drive off from right beneath it, I get blinded by this big flash... So I'm wondering if I'm getting some kind of ticket.. That didn't help with my attitude about being lost.

When I finally found my hotel, I began to wonder if I should just check-in and sleep in the car. This made motel 6 look like a four seasons. I totally should have done more research on that one. I get to my room and the door is open. So - and don't laugh - I check the closet, under the beds, behind the shower curtain.. I checked the lock on the door, tried it from both sides and resigned my self to getting 3 hours of sleep on top of the covers. I really didn't want to go home with bedbugs.

I woke up at 6:30, grabbed a waffle and a nasty cup of coffee and headed to DC. What everyone told me was an hour and a half drive only took 45 minutes. Rather than be relieved that it took so little time, I was mad I got up so early for nothing. My head was pounding from little sleep, nerves, and the motional roller coaster I was on. I finally found parking - how do you people up there navigate those garages? I just knew I was going to take out a pipe or a post. I walk out of the garage just in time for the rain. Woop. Tee. Doo. I made my way to the consulate around the block, and realized I was going to be standing there an hour... outside.. in the rain. So, I went to rite-aid next door to find some medicine for my headache.

I picked up a BC powder and asked hopefully for a bathroom. Of course, no public bathroom. She told me to go two doors down to the gym. I think I started a feud, because when I asked the guy at the gym I received a rant about it being a private club and why would she do that. I saw a Hilton across the street. So, I held my head up high, pulled out my Qdoba rewards card, held it like a room key and walked right in and used the lobby bathroom. Don't hold the deception against me people, I really had to go.

I make it back to the consulate door and am second in line. When they finally open, I explained everything to the lady and she told me to take a seat and took my license. I see her talking to someone and then out of a box of Fedex envelopes comes my package. After waiting an hour and watching hushed discussions, I'm told that they haven't gotten the approval yet (even though I was told 3 times I was good and that they were in the mail). They said they'd call to see if they could expedite the process. So, I waited. An hour later, they told me to have our contact in Bolivia call someone in La Paz to asked for them to approve our visas. I did this and was told by my contact that the person in La Paz had approved my visas. I told this to the people at the consulate and was told they hadn't received the email yet. I asked again and again. Nothing. Eventually, after they closed, they called and found out that we were indeed approved (something that could have been done at lunch time). Finally, I left at 5:15 with our visas and made a bee line to the airport for my flight.

I was very excited to have my visas in hand, even though my flight was delayed about an hour. We were going to make our flights on Tuesday and were going to avoid the $1500 fee we were looking at if we had to postpone. I was happy, but I was tired. I'd spent the whole day in the consulate watching the same Bolivian tourist commercial over and over and over. I'd only had 3 hours of sleep. I get to my connection in Charlotte and the gate for my flight was wrong on the screen. Not knowing this, and having only 20 minutes because of the delay, I speed-walked to my gate only to be told that they switched to a different gate. On the other side of the airport. So, I literally run across the whole airport. I was so tired, I'm sure I looked like a baby horse on speed. I get to the gate I was told to go to and am then told that the other girl was wrong and it was just adjusted. My actual gate is the one next door to the original gate. So, I had to run (again...) the length of the airport to my flight. By the time I got on, I was breathing so heavy and I was misting the people around me and my elbows were even sweating. But... I made it.

I arrived in Jackson right after midnight. I walked to my car, cranked it up, and headed out. I'd be home in an hour and a half and could sleep before our 27 hour trip to Bolivia. Wrong. I get about 45 minutes south of Jackson and the main highway and all the backroads are closed due to flooding from a storm I didn't know anything about. I was told to drive back to Jackson and find a new route. I turned around and pulled over on the side of the road. This was it. My breaking point. I was exhausted. I was nervous about the move. I was sad about the good byes. I was stressed from the visas. All of my circumstances and difficulties claimed my full vision and focus. And, I fell. I let out a wail (or two..or five) and sat in my car sobbing. I was beginning to think that everything was for naught. I was ready to give up and I sat alone. I felt alone and I felt hopeless. The little blows along the way had finally dealt the death blow.

By the time I got Ashley on the phone, I was still sobbing. I talked with her for a while and the Lord used the calm spirit of my wonderful wife to help me bring things back into focus. I realized that I was not hopeless, but that the Lord was making my heart resolved to do his will, despite the challenges that confront us. Thanks to my mom and Ashley using google maps, I finally made it home. What should have been an hour and a half, became a 3 and a half hour drive. I got home at 4 am. I slept about 4 hours. before our big move with 10 suitcases, 5 roll-ons, 5 bags, and 3 kids, I had just gone 2 days with just under 7 hours of sleep.

When we finally arrived in Bolivia, I felt like I'd been hit with a train. I'm still catching up and getting over the exhaustion of a big move, and a totally different culture, but I'm beginning to see the lesson I've learned. Christ is sufficient. We are all asked to run a race, and God graciously "sets the race before us." The thing is, in our strength, it's impossible. I learned this. I learned how weak my strength was as I was sobbing in my car on the side of Hwy 49. I realized how small I was in the scheme of things. I am a vessel. My response to my situations can make me a strong vessel fit for great use, or a weak vessel that becomes ill-used and not trustworthy. How can we be a strong vessel? By enduring the fire of the kiln without breaking. And endurance does not come from looking to our strength, but the power and might to the One called us in purpose. We can endure the race, only with our eyes fixed on Jesus. I learned that when my eyes leave my savior and survey my difficulty, it's only a matter of time that I will cease to endure. Christ is sufficient. My plans, my purpose, my calling, my job, my family... none can satisfy. Christ is sufficient. If we want sufficiency in our calling in life, we must look to the One who is all-sufficient. Let our eyes, ever survey the wonder of His eternal glory.