Our blog has been uncharacteristically quiet since two weeks
before we left Colombia.
We left Colombia under extraordinary circumstances, and at
the time we felt we could not post the details of our last days in Colombia. It
has now been a few months since the end of the nationwide judicial strike. We know many people have followed our
adoption and we felt terrible not being able to let all of you know the mighty
way that God intervened to bring us home- all of us. The purpose of this blog
entry it to bring everyone up to date. We feel like enough time has passed that
no one will suffer harm if we share the complete story. In sharing this with
all of you we will by intent leave out names and places so that those who helped us
will not be at any risk of retribution.
Where to begin....
The last entry of any substance was on 26 October. At that point we were more than a month into
the judicial strike and I (Jim) was scheduled to leave for the US in one more
week. As Betty and I prayerfully considered our options we felt that Betty
could not come back as scheduled a week later without the strike ending.
A few more days went by and nothing was resolved with the
strike... By Tuesday, I began to dialog
with our agency's in country representative having recognized that we were
running out of both time and money to continue to wait on a strike that could
continue for weeks to come. We came to
the conclusion that by Friday we would have to return Anyi and Jose to the
orphanage and hope that we could return for them after the strike was resolved.
Our hearts were breaking. There is no other
way to say it than that. These two children had already become such a
part of us that we felt as if we were ripping out our hearts to even consider
such a thing. The stark reality of our situation was that we had to do
something, and we could not think of any other options. Know that we were on
our knees on separate continents pleading with God to bring the strike to an
end. As difficult as this was going to be for us, we knew it was going to be even worse for
Anyi and Jose.
Wednesday came and went with no change - and Thursday
morning as well. I had placed a call on Wednesday and said we would have to
return the kids to the orphanage by 10:00 am on Friday to make my flight on Saturday.
By Thursday morning all I could do was watch them through tear filled eyes.
This was going to be the hardest thing I would have ever done in my life. It was clear that God was NOT going to answer
our prayer to end the strike. Sometimes God is like that, He answers our
prayers with a no. As when we lost the
referral for Carolina and Neydali, I could only answer Lord I will trust you.
But still I wept.
I had lunch with Anyi and Jose on Thursday thinking it would
be the last lunch we would have together for a long time... After lunch, we were going to watch a movie
together when the phone rang. When I answered, it was our in country
representative on the phone. There had been several calls like this with no
real results. This was a different call. Lucia said "I have good
news." She went on to explain that our lawyer had made arrangements for
our adoption to be moved to another city hours away from Cali. In this city a
judge had agreed to finalize our adoption even though the strike was still on.
In Colombia the term for the final adoption decree is "Sentencia".
While you are there you desperately long
to hear this word- Sentencia. So I told
Lucia that this was good news and reluctantly asked her how long it would take
to get to Sentencia by moving to a new court (normally, it takes 3 weeks for
the court process). Lucia laughed and
said "no, you don't understand, Sentencia is tomorrow morning!" My
heart missed several beats as this amazing news sank in. The rest of the call I
cried like a baby. Anyi and Jose must have thought I had lost my mind. Sentencia would be the next morning. I could
not fathom how this could be possible. While God chose to answer our prayers to
end the strike with a no- He answered the question I should have been asking
which was "LORD, what are your plans for us and for our
Sentencia". Lucia gave some more
details of how this had been worked out and told me to be ready at 5 am the
next morning. I told her I would be ready at 3 am- and I was. I was not able to
sleep all night waiting for time to leave.
A short time later our translator called (daughter if the lawyer) to
make sure I had the news and to tell me several times "You must be ready
to leave at 5am. I had the impression we
would hit this other city kind of like a drive by shooting getting everything
signed and blasting right back out of town. Boy was I wrong.
On Friday morning we slipped out the front door of our hotel
while the desk clerk slept on the lobby sofa. The rest of our day was to be no
less like a spy novel than the way we slipped away unseen from our hotel. We
drove through beautiful countryside to a small city in one of the coffee
growing regions. I tried to explain to Anyi and Jose that today in the eyes of
both the laws of Colombia, the United States and in the eyes of God they would
be our children Siempre (forever). As we arrive in the city, we were told to go
to a coffee shop and wait. We waited more than an hour before the lawyer called
and said she was on her way to get the judge.
In another 20 minutes, we received another call and were told to move to
another coffee shop near the court house. Several minutes and many back streets
later we arrived at the next coffee shop... and waited.
After a time the lawyer came into the shop and greeted us...
Then she point out a man in the doorway with his back to us and whispered "that is the judge". He was there
just a moment and then he was gone and soon our lawyer followed. .. and again
we waited. From where we sat out the
doors of the coffee shop we could see the strikers on the steps of the court
house. There were speeches and chants
and I understood none of it. Eventually,
they formed a march and headed off into the city leaving only a few picketers
on the steps of the courthouse.
Eventually the lawyer returned, but stayed outside the coffee shop
waiving frantically but not coming
inside. She called my interpreter and spoke briefly by cell phone. The
interpreter leaned over and whispered, " we can't do Sentencia here. The
others in the coffee shop are strikers!"
My heart sank and I had knots in my stomach as I watched the lawyer walk
away yet again... and we waited.
it seemed like an eternity, but finally the lawyer slipped
in the shop and leaned across the table pointed her finger at me and said,
"YOU, just you come with me". Without hesitation, I stood up and
walked away leaving my two children and all of my valuables with the
interpreter not having a clue where we were going. In moments like these in
your heart and in your mind, it is solidified like no other times, that faith
and trust are verbs. But it seemed the waiting was over.
We walked several streets away to yet another
"very" backstreet coffee shop with 3 tables. It looked like the sort
of place we see in action adventure movies when somebody eventually is going to
start shooting! My lawyer had me sit
down across the table from a man who started passing me papers to sign. I asked
no questions... I just kept signing everything that was put in front of me.
Faith and trust- they are verbs. As I signed, I noticed the papers were already
signed by the judge and the man across from me was signing as the Secretary of
the Court. Everything was said in a whisper with everyone constantly looking
over their shoulder. These people were worried about being caught. And I wondered, why are your risking all this
for me a gringo from thousands of mile away who you have never met and will
never meet again. Why? Once we were finished signing the papers, the lawyer
left and I sat across the table from the Secretary of the Court. For 15 minutes
he just looked at me with an expressionless face, and never said a single word
to me. I looked around, there was an empty table next to me- so close I could
touch it. At the only other table in the shop sat two men quietly talking. One
of them eventually turned to me and said "muy Spanish" - just like
that one word in English and one word in Spanish. I said "no, yo hablo un
pocito de Espanol, no mas, no mas (no, I speak only a little Spanish , no more,
no more). He sort of shrugged and turned back to the other man and continued
his conversation. The man at my table continued to stare with the same
expressionless face. After a time, the lawyer returned with another man, she
gave him a wad of my cash (a wad of Colombian pesos is not really very much).
The man, my cash, and my lawyer all dashed back out again. And the man with me
just stared. After another 5 minutes, the man stood up, said nothing turned and
walked away. I remember thinking, this could be the place that I die, but Lord,
you brought me here and I will trust you.
My heart sank when the man from the other table got up and came to the
table next to me and sat.
This man began to talk to me in broken Spanish and English.
We began to have a bit of a conversation, and much to my relief, this was a
really nice man and we had a pleasant conversation- as best we could as two men
knowing very little of each other's language. But I was sure I was safe. Eventually, my
lawyer returned and came to the table smiled at me and said, " I see you
have met the judge". All along I
had been with the judge but didn't know it. Apparently, our lawyer must have
told him about the evidences she had seen of our faith in God, because the
first thing the judge asked her to ask me was. What type of Christian was I? I assumed he meant denomination so I answered
"Yo soy Baptista." The judge smiled and said "yo soy
Christiano". Inside of me a light went on and everything made sense. God's
plan was revealed.
I took the judge by the arm and said to him, "Mi
hermano en Jesus Christo, muy bien, muy bien." Which means - my brother in
Jesus Christ, very good, very good. This brother whom I had never me smiled at
me from ear to ear, raised his hand into the air and said "Jesus Christo
es el senior"!!! This is a common
praise expression which literally means, Jesus Christ is the man. I don't
remember what else we talked about, but
I remember my brother several more time raising his hand towards heaven and
saying, "Jesus Christo es el senior." The man who had been given the
cash returned as did the secretary of the court and all the documents were now
signed and had required seals on them. Copies were passed around to the right
people, and quickly hidden from sight. The whispers stopped and you could see
the relief on everyone's face... it was done, we had gotten away with it. And
so God used these 4 men, brothers in the faith, to accomplish His plan so that
we could be a family, in a back street coffee shop, thousands of miles from my
home. One man was a judge, one the court Secretary, one a legal assistant, and
one the social work or advocate for the children. These four men, my brothers
in Christ risked so much to help us to be a forever family for Anyi and Jose.
We called for the children. They came and we took pictures with the judge- that
I promised would never be posted on line. We enjoyed the brief moment of
celebration together- and it was over. I shook hands all around (and hugged!),
spoke many thank-yous in English and Spanish. Then we turned and started to
walk away back to the car. As I walked and was overwhelmed with the emotions of
the day- I wept. As I slowly walked away
choking back the tears, I heard the now familiar voice call out "Jesus
Christo es el senior" I could not look back, I know that if I had, I would
have seen the judge standing with his hand pointing to heaven, and a bright
smile that was broader that any I have ever know.
The next day, we left for Bogota and met up with Betty. She
was to take care of the remaining steps to finally GO HOME. I left on Sunday
and have stories to share with my grandchildren and great grandchildren of how
mighty is our God and how able He is to answer prayers and changes live,
anytime and anywhere that He chooses.
