storytime.

I’m not one much for details of events but I am very much a proponent of telling stories. This is my version of Trying to Get my Visa story. And it begins this summer, before embarking on my grand adventure to Colombia. I did the research and hunted down the necessary paperwork I needed in order to get a temporary religious visa. With this magic visa, I would be able to live and work as a missionary for one year, in Colombia with little or no hassle.

Well, unfortunately the paperwork did not arrive before my departure in September. So goodbyes were said to friends and family in Spokane, I took a deep breath as the plane prepared for take off and I tried slow my thoughts of the worst-case scenarios of what the Colombian customs and border patrol would be like without the visa but a return plane ticket for May. Thankfully going through customs was a breeze. One the other hand, trying get my visa during my first few weeks in Colombia was much more of a challenge, something similar to hiking a glacier while hauling a cart of rocks, no snow tires but 25 pound ankle weights strapped to each ankle (that may be a little dramatic). Pilar and I quickly discovered that I must leave the country in order to obtain the visa, and without the temporary religious visa, I must return to the DAS office every 60 days to pay a tax and get a stamp. After 6 months of this I must leave the country for a few days, return to Colombia to do this all over again.

Well, as fun as this was, I had the opportunity while in Ecuador with my mother to get my visa. I talked to of all my people, got all the necessary documents, applications and photos, and headed to the Colombian Consulate in Ecuador. After trying to decipher what the Ecuadorian lady at the front desk was saying in English (since she absolutely refused to speak Spanish) I discovered that because one of my documents said volunteer in place of missionary I could not get the missionary visa, or the volunteer visa.

I blocked the visa from my mind and enjoyed the rest our time in Ecuador. Once back in Bogota, came the task of figuring out what to do next; fly to Atlanta or return to Ecuador to get a visa, or just stay on my tourist visa. After many thoughts and prayers, I decided to head to Atlanta for attempt #3 of getting my visa. I decided on Atlanta because that is where Laura-Catherine was able to get hers in just a few hours with the same paperwork that I had attempted to get my visa with in Quito.

Cristina, the daughter of Myriam and Oscar, and her family warmly welcomed us to Atlanta. It was so wonderful to be able to meet and share time with family, so loving and kind. They dropped us off at the Colombian Consulate and after about an hour of waiting and stressing about all the ‘could-be’s and what-if’s,’ my number 31 was finally called. Once at the window the lady asked me how she could be of service, standing up straight, I confidently said, “I am here to get my visa.” Response, “oh a visa, you didn’t have to wait all this time, just head to that back office.” After the woman in the back office looked through my paperwork, asked me a few questions, mumbled a few uh huh's and da, ta, da's, ten minutes I walked out smiling with my visa in hand. Insert victory dance here.

THE END