We'd reallllly like never having to do that again.
Long story short, after a rather rough evening with flash flooding and a rather rough night with little sleep, we got to the embassy an hour early, joined hundreds of others trying to get in, praised the Lord our name was on the list, and before we could enter and very suddenly we had to leave everything outside...our phones, diaper bag, snacks for Nora, wipes for Ben, water, everything.
Hoping it would be short, we went in with only our paperwork, Ben and Nora, had to navigate through lots of other lines, two security sections, and finally made it to our waiting area at 7:45. From 7:45 until 10:45, we sat in a tiny room with a LOT of people and a dozen really unhappy small children, submitted all our applications, waited...waited...waited...made a few adjustments, waited...waited...waited, were given more forms to fill out, waited...waited...waited, answered some questions, waited...submitted more paperwork....waited. You've got the picture.
I was praying for so much grace for Nora, who hadn't eaten ANYTHING and with nothing to give her, with nothing to entertain her with, and the Lord surely answered my prayers...she was amazing, miraculously so, sitting in her chair and singing the ABC song about 8 million times and drawing on a folder with a borrowed pen. For HOURS.
Finally, they gave us each a form with a 45 lines of tiny boxes, and asked that we fill out every date we ever left America, the date we returned to America, the date we entered a different country, the date we exited the different country, and where did we go. Since birth.
We spent a looonnnnggg time going through our passports filling out these forms as best we could, and seeing that everyone was struggling through these forms, overheard an agent tell one person that if they were not sure of exact dates, they could just do the month and year and check a box at the bottom that said "estimated dates."
After bouncing the baby and singing with Nora and filling out these tedious forms and wracking our brains, we submitted them and waited, waited. Finally, they called us up, and we were given all new empty forms, to be filled out again but with exact dates (not just month and year) and "estimated dates" if we weren't sure the dates were correct. June-August 1994 was not enough. And we couldn't adjust the previous form. Start over.
By now we were a few hours in, both kiddos were running out, there weren't any chairs left, and I was starting to pray that the Lord would just help us not LOSE it.
We started all over again...dozens of lines of 06-05-2007s, finally got those all in, waited, more questions, waited. Waited.
By now, it was getting close to our flight time, Nora was starving and still somehow hanging in there, Ben needed a new diaper something awful, and I'm still praying for grace and open doors. Like, EXIT doors.
THEN, the lady called us up and said that Ben's passport picture was no good, and that we'd have to leave the embassy, go to a new place in town, get his new pictures done and bring them back...because his arms are in the picture.
At this point I resorted to begging. "Ma'am, ma'am, please. We cannot do that. Please. It's a good picture. I have four of them. We had them printed in the States. Yes, they are all the same. Please don't make us do that. We will never make our flight and my dad has our children and we'll never get back in time. Please."
Finally, finally, at 10:40 (with a noon flight) we actually got to meet with the actual officer, who asked us lots of questions, did a final review of our paperwork, had us swear an oath, said nothing about Ben's arms in his picture, and declared that Ben is indeed a US Citizen, and finalized the signatures for a passport. All we have to do is go to a different office, pay for those services, and bring back a receipt, and we could be done, and they will send us his proof of citizenship and passport in 4-6 weeks.
Matt grabs our wallet and the forms and runs to the other office down the hall...and no one is there.
He comes back, and the immigration officer tells him the guy must be in the bathroom or something, to go back. He goes back, waits, waits, waits, and someone tells him to go back. Maybe the guy is still in the bathroom?
Finally, the immigration officer says, "Actually, I've just been told that he went home because he wasn't feeling well."
OK. So here is our $115 dollars.
No, can't he can't touch it. Only the money officer guy can take cash.
OK, we'll pay online.
Can't pay online.
We'll write a check?
Can't write a check.
Credit card? Money transfer? GOLD?
Must be cash, must be in person, must be given to the cash taking officer, who is gone and no one knows if he is coming back.
Is there anyone else in this entire building who can take our $115 dollars?
No.
Is there ANYONE who can take our cash and pay the cash guy tomorrow?
No. No one is allowed to touch the cash, but it must be cash. Nothing can be given to us until the receipt is filled out, and it cannot be paid.
Nora. Ben. Our Flight. That tiny room.
Oh my lands.
In the end, we barely made our flight with four not-super-happy humans, (one of whom at this point had entirely overdone his diaper and peed all over me), left the money and some papers with our taxi driver (have I said oh my lands yet?) to try to go and pay somehow today, and got back in time to see a gorgeous double rainbow that I am claiming was for me, and sadly saw dad off this morning.
Praising the Lord for God's miraculous help with Nora and Ben in a difficult situation, praising the Lord for all of the paperwork being finished and us having everything that we needed to have his citizenship confirmed and his passport moving, praising the Lord for bringing us all the way safely home and protecting our kiddos while we were apart, praising the Lord for my Dad, graciously loving on my girls and giving them a really fun 24 hours without Mom and Dad and the littles (and wishing terribly we'd left Nora with him!), praising the Lord for guiding us and helping us through a really frustrating situation, and praying (pray with us) for everything to be FINISHED and resolved somehow today or soon.
The trip was a time of needing to dig deep, and I'm so thankful that in those seasons of needing to draw on Him, He. Is. There. and enough. More than enough.
Thank you, thank you, thank you for your prayers, and I was so blessed to hear from some of you and know and count on your prayers! Life in Haiti...always an adventure!
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