The Rest of the Story

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.