Sept 16, 2006 - Prisioners of Hope

*********************Prisoners of Hope Cliffnotes available at page bottom*******************************************************
Hey Crew,
Where to start...I guess it makes sense to start at the beginning. When I wrote you last I wrote with the promise of a more in depth email, and as I look at all the things that are going through my head....it may take a while to get all of these thoughts on paper (or at least a screen)
A couple of weeks ago, while we were still visiting Marla's parents in Alaska, we sent in our applications for Brasilian visas so that we could enter the country and continue working as missionaries. Since our current documents were still valid, we needed only tourist visas to enter Brasil. These are typically very easy to get and we forsaw no problem. But while we were still in Alaska, we got word that the consulate had called wanting to talk with us. Actually we got word that they had called Oregon, Brazil and Indiana trying to talk with us. When we finally called them back, they said that there was some problem with our application and they wanted to see us in person, with all our documents in hand. Knowing we had only a few days between getting home and then leaving for Brasil, this news was a bit of an inconvineince, but what are you going to do, if they want to see you, they want to see you. So to keep a long story short(er) we planned to drive to San Fransisco to show them proof that we were legal to be in the country. That is when we sent out the first email to all of you. We arrived in San Fransisco the night of Tuesday, September 5, found a hotel, and got ready to visit the consulate the following morning. Arriving shortly before they opened, we found out that because of various holidays the consulate was only open 2 days that week. That meant two things: 1. that the office was going to be more crowded that usual. 2. that the consulate employees only had to take 2 days of vacation to not work that entire week...needless to say they were very understaffed. When the office opened, we took our number and waited our turn. When our number was called we went up to the window, explained who we were and started to get our our documents. The first lady who helped us then went into a back room to retrieve our file. When she came back, she got another lady who was more familar with our case to explain what was going on. The second lady sat down, and looked over our proof that we had brought from the federal police in Brasil, and dissappeared once again into the back room. When she returned, she said quite "matter-of-factly" that we would not be issued visas to return to Brazil. That statement really set us back. We didn't know what to say, we explained our situation, we showed her again the proof that we had brought down. Sure there was a long line of people behind us but we had drivin over 600 miles. Could she please explain what was going on? What had we done wrong? Why wasn't our proof good enough? After another couple of minutes, she very politely excused herself, took our papers, and explained that she was going to get the vice consulate to help clear things up for us. Ok, we thought, finally someone who can help us. When the vice consulate finally came to the window, she threw our passports and documents on the counter in front of us and began yelling at us.
"I don't know why you're still here, you've already been told we weren't going to give you a visa. In fact we've contacted all the other consulates in the country and they know about you. You've already taken more than your share of time, take your things and leave."
"What!!!" we thought, we were stunned. We had never in all our lives been treated the way this lady was treating us...all without provacation. We tried to open our mouths and politely question what was going, why this was happening, what had we done wrong. But each time we began to open our mouth, she would launch again into her verbal assault. With nothing left to do and no one higher to appeal to, we gathered our papers, and after only 10 minutes at that front counter walked back out the door.
Marla was fighting back the tears as we entered the lobby, but finally let her guard down as those elevator doors closed. What to say? We weren't expecting that, our flight to Sao Paulo left in six days for crying out lound, now what were we going to do? If we couldn't go to Brasil, what were we going to do? Where would we live? Lord, what just happened in there? All these questions started racing through our minds. What happened between them telling us to bring all of our documents to come and see them, and today? When we finally got back into our car and found the freeway towards home, we popped in a book on tape and gave our brains a vacation from the new endless assault of uncertainty.
As the book ended we got something to eat, checked into a hotel and began talking things over. We were in shock, and it felt like we were greiving the loss of a dream, the loss of our expectations with nothing to take their place but questions. We spent some time praying together, pouring our wounded and tired hearts out to God, and recommitting and trusting our future, whatever it may be to Him. We went to bed that night mentally, physically and emotionally exausted. We just wanted rest.
Early the next morning my mind awoke me thinking about our situation. How could we get back into Brasil? Would it really be that hard to forge a visa? How hard do they really look? How about using My brother's visa? We're twins, I could just mail it back to him after we had gotten in. Mind you these weren't rational ideas, I was just grasping. And when I finally woke up enough to know that I was grasping I was mad at myself. Why couldn't I just accept the fact? Why couldn't I just face the music? Why did I always have to hope? I mean sure hope is supposed to be a good thing, but unfulfilled hope, makes the heart sick, and I was already tired of feeling so confused and uncertain without hope making it worse. That morning, before Marla woke up, I took my Bible and my computer to go have my quite time in our car parked outside. And even before I opened my Bible, I felt God say He had a message for me in my reading. I thought "are you kidding, I've been reading through Zechariah. It's all about the exiles, and Isreal, and the prophets, what could God say to me today." But then my eyes came across Zechariah 9:12 where it reads "return to your fortress, o prisoners of hope; even now I annouce that I will restore twice as much to you."
Prisoners of hope, prisoners of hope; well that was certainly where I was at. And the phrase summed up even better than I could how I was feeling. Hmmm, what could this mean. As my quite time came to a close I pulled out my laptop and turned it on. I had brought a headset and using our hotels wireless internet connection, I called Brasil to at least inform our OMS field leaders Mel and Fran Noah what the consulate had told us, so that they could start the nessisary tasks of moving the rest of our stuff out of Brasil and back to the US. After I had told them all that you just read, Fran said "so you're legal to be in the country right? Well, why don't you try to come down on the documents that you already have. The worst that can happen is that they'll turn you away, and you'll have to spend a couple nights in the airport." They promised to get some other opinions and call us back. And within a couple of hours we had the field approval as well as approval from headquarters to use the airline tickets we already had and try to enter the country. It was then that I sent my last email. It kind of felt James Bond-ish.
The next couple of days was a frenzy of packing, lists and cleaning. We tried to pack for up to two years, but emotionally were trying to prepare to stay in Brazil from anywhere between 2 hours and two years. I figured if we could at least get to Sao Paulo, the federal police would recognize our paperwork, and maybe just scold us before letting us in. But I also know the airlines check paperwork before they even let you check in, and I was hoping that whoever would check us in would believe our documents and help us at least make it into Sao Paulo.
The night before we left we slept fine. We were feeling good about our chances, and knew that God was in control either way. We awoke at about 5:15, and arrived at the airport shortly before 7am. The lines to the United counter were long, and when we finally made it up to the front we hoped that these long lines would help the United agent breeze over our documents....but they didn't. He carefully scrutinized what we brought. We then showed him a very unofficial looking document that we had printed out from the internet about our case, and translated it for him the best we could. He then got on the radio, and called another person that could at least read Spanish to translate it for him, and before he dissappeared to get it translated he said that he needed to be sure, because if we were rejected at the boarder, United would be fined $10,000 for each of us.
He was gone a long time, but when he came back he said he believed our story, printed out boarding passes, and checked our luggage. He even made small talk asking various questions about Brazil and what we were going to be doing. So with our first sigh of releif we went through security, and onto our plane headed for Chicago.
Chicago was to be our second place that I knew we could get turned away because they often check right at the gate before you board an international flight to see if your paperwork is in order, and if it is not, they may refuse you entrance onto the plane. But at least we had 7 hours between our flight from Portland, and our flight to Sao Paulo...or at least we thought. When the time came to board, we were standing at the gate waiting with all the other people headed to Sao Paulo, when they changed our flight and delayed it's departure for the following morning. The flight screens carried this information first, and so I took our boarding passes to the front counter to ask what was going on. The flight attendant took our boarding passes, told us there would be no flight that night, and stamped both of them "Internationally Approved." When they made the announcement in after a few minutes the room got tense, especially when they announced all the local hotels were already full and that everybody would have to spend the night in the airport. People started yelling and wondering where they were going to sleep, and we were a little irritated too, but when we saw our tickets we thought at least they had been stamped. That night wasn't the best night of sleep I've ever had. The airconditioning was cranked up, and we would have froze if we hadn't found a pile of empty garbage bags and a few thin airplane blankets. We awoke the next day in time to get breakfast and find our gate in time to board. But when we looked at the screen, our flight wasn't even listed. It would be another 6 hours before we would actually take off, bringing our grand total of hours in Chicago to just over 24, which was pretty discouraging when we considered we had only been flying 3.5 hours to get there, and we had a long ways to go. But at least we were on the plane, the door was closed, and we were going to Sao Paulo. In a mere 10.5 hours after leaving Chicago we landed in Sao Paulo, collected our bags and went to the immigration line. The line was long and slow, but we didn't really care, all we wanted was to get through. When we found ourselves at the counter we gave the immigration officer only our passports and our documents that the other missionaries suggested. We offered no explination, just the documents. He looked over Marla's passport asked a few questions, and sat his stamp on one of her pages. And with the stamp just resting on her passport, he yelled at another officer to question if they would accept our documents. And after a short conversation, he brought his hand back to his stamp and stamped her passport. After he stamped mine as well, Marla uncounsously, yet very audibly let out a sigh of releif, and we were through...we had been let in. To be honest we weren't sure what to think, we had been so numb to the whole situation, the reality of actually being let in the country hadn't really set in. Suddenly everybody was speaking only Portuguese, and we were back on very familar ground. We found a bus going from the airport to the main bus station, and then purchased tickets from Sao Paulo to Londrina. The phrases came back quite easily and I found my self more or less understanding a language I hadn't heard in a long time. We watched the city roll by from the windows of our bus untill sleep overtook us, and after 8 hours on a bus and just over 54 hours of total travel time we pulled into the main bus station in Londrina. Our missionary family was there as was our pastor and friend Diogo. We talked about the details of our visa's and flights as the car took us down the all too familar streets that led to our house, and when the car finally arrived, it felt as if we had arrived home...or at least kind of. It's quite a strange sensation to have two very different places both feel like home, but it was what we were feeling. Our house was almost just as we had left it and within hours of arriving many of our friends from the church had dropped by to say hi and give us hugs. We were so tired we had to turn our lights off and close our windows to discourage others from dropping by so that we could get some sleep.
Today we are still resting up, Marla being more tired than I due to a physical condition she developed about 12 weeks ago. The bags are almost unpacked, and we have enjoyed our first 3 meals of rice and beans. We've already had a meeting to discuss what we'll be doing this next year, and have forms and worksheets to get through. We'll start some more language school on Monday, and return to life as normal the following week. (Oh yeah, we'll also return to the federal police to work on my permanancy...like a green card on Monday so keep that in your prayers.) And as the boxes unpack once again, and the pictures go back up on the walls, we want to thank you for all of your prayers. We know that God used them in bringing us peace in the midst of what was going on as well as favor in finding loop holes in bringing us back to Brasil.
Oh yeah, attached is the first picture of our little "peanut" because we think this little 12 week (currently) old looks like a peanut. Any questions...email us. (Don't let the size of this paragraph fool you, we'd love to talk about it, but we'd also like to hear from you. How you are doing, and how we can pray for you...all you have to do is hit the reply button.)
in Him, for Him,
Micah and Marla
ps. The first picture is of my bed in the airport, and the second is our first picture of "Peanut."

***************Prisoners of Hope************************************
This email was about the emotional rollercoaster that we've been on lately. It all started when we recieved word from the consulate in San Fransisco that they wanted to see us. So with nothing else we could do we drove to San Fransisco only to be yelled at by the vice consulate and told that we were not going to be given a visa, and we would have to wait at least another year to apply for a visa of any kind. That was the down part of the roller coaster. The next day we called Brasil to tell our field leaders we weren't going to be able to go to Brazil, when they suggested we at least try to come down on the paperwork we already had. It was kind of James Bond-ish, and each document inspection point we got butterflies in our stomachs, but after some long inspections they let us in, and we arrived safely in Londrina a day or two ago after a mere 54 hours of traveling. We are tired and doing well. Marla is a bit more tired than I do to a physical condition thats been going on for the last 12 weeks. For a BRIEF description on her condition please read the last paragraph in the main email, as well as the PS's that describe the pictures
************************************************************************