I think the reason that it's taken me this long to write this post (besides the fact that we've had a very full, very busy summer) is that I feel like it's the climax of the cramazingness. I mean, really. What we experienced in Room #4 was near-miraculous. Even if not a technical miracle, it was definitely the hand of God reaching down and answering specific, immediate prayers...specifically and immediately.
Awesome, isn't it, that He is above and beyond time? For us, it was "immediate", but for Him, it just was. And is. His ways are unfathomable, and as I praised Him then, I praise Him now, just thinking about it.
Room 4 was cold (It felt wonderful!) and not nearly as crowded. Not even close. Inside was Really Important Man, Really Important Man's aide, and a couple of other people. It felt awkward and intrusive that we were just opening the door and walking in, but apparently, anyone who would dare attempt to walk in said room obviously had already gotten permission to enter; because as soon as Tuna opened the door, Really Important Man's aide waved us in and quickly shut the door behind us.
We stood by the door, the three of us, quietly watching the interactions in front of us. Really Important Man was not budging on the request that was currently at his desk. A man was standing there, pleading his case, and the head shaking back and forth, "No, no, no," kept coming. No matter what the man said, the answer was "No." And the emphasis of the syllable kept increasing in strength. "No. No! NO!" And eventually, "Don't you hear me? I said, 'No!' Now get out!" he seemed to be saying. And the man, slowly, defeatedly, walked out.
I can remember the feeling of that moment. Sort of like, "Oh goodness. That did not go well for him. Why should it be different for us?" My eyes scanned back and forth between Scott and Tuna, wondering what would happen next.
There was one man in front of us now, and he approached Really Important Man, handed him his paper, quickly got it signed, and exited. Just like that. And in a moment, it was our turn. We were up! Our chance, our time, to make our request to this earthly man and watch and see what the God of the universe would do.
Tuna stepped up and began to explain. Within a minute or so, Tuna was looking directly at me, waving me up to the desk, showing me where to stand, and non-verbally telling me that Rim (Really Important Man) wanted me to speak. So I shot up another prayer and stepped forward, explaining our case. We had come from America to meet our son and to take him home but we couldn't do that, obviously, without his passport. We had waited in America until the passport website from this office had made it clear that his passport was ready and would be so by the time we arrived. We had arrived, but no passport was there. We had come to Rim to request that the passport be delivered as promised.
There is much back and forth (Rim: "Come back tomorrow!" Tuna: "But, sir, we are here today, can you not help us today?"), but eventually, Really Important Man asks for the paper from the orphanage with Tom's information on it. Tuna hands it over, having had acquired it from Mr. D before walking into Room 4. Really Important Man looks at it and says to me, "I am a busy man! I will not look at this until it has been 30 days! Why do you bother me with this before it has been 30 days?!"
"It HAS been 30 days," I say. "No, it is only 20 days!" "No, it's been more than 30, actually! See, it was applied for on April 19. 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24...." And I proceed to count on my fingers until I reach 35--"It has been 35 days, sir!"
"Oh," he says. And he turns to his computer screen, pulls up Tom's file, studies it for what feel like forever, and finally says, "Okay, I will do this." He looks at his paper; he looks at the screen. He holds his pen high above the paper and lingers before signing, as if he's not sure if he really wants to do it or not. I remember praying, "Lord, you can move his hand right now. He can sign it and we get on a plane tomorrow, or he can change his mind and make us stay. Please move his hand." And with a stroke of his green pen, the order is made.
It's right about that time that I begin actually taking in my surroundings, including the huge stacks of passports and applications that are rubber-banded together and sitting in various spots all over his office. So what if he signed the paper....how in the world are they ever going to find Tom's passport if it's already printed and just sitting in that building somewhere?!
I'm back at the scene, and I jump in on Scott's case..."Sir, they've been waiting even longer! Their daughter's passport was applied for 51 days ago." Rim takes L's paper from Tuna, types in her info, and peruses it. "Okay, I will do this, too." Relief. Smiles across our faces.
But then I glance at the computer.
It's not her. That's not her. That picture isn't L!
I'm trying to say it, but for a moment or two, the reality of the situation is making my head spin. If that's not L (which it isn't), and he grants the wrong girl a passport (which it looks like he is doing), L and her parents will continue to be stuck in this cycle for who knows how long. I have to fight for L, so...
Sir, that's not her; Tuna, that's not her; Scott, the picture on the computer screen is not L!
"What?" says Rim. "What do you mean?" I gather myself and say, "I know that girl; she's another girl at the orphanage...but it's not L." And sure enough, we look closer at the paper provided by the orphanage, and the name is different. And so is the number.
"Well, I can do nothing then! What are you doing bringing me the wrong paper with the wrong number for the wrong person? Why are you wasting my time like this?!??!"
For a moment, all seems lost. But prayers are constantly being sent up, both by us and by many around the globe praying for these very moments. And God hears them and decides, in His mercy, to answer by continuing to make a way...
"I know her number," I say. (Because, you see, Really Important Man, for the last month, I've been obsessively checking your website, watching for updates on Tom's passport. And I just happened to be obsessing about L's passport, too. Hee hee.) So I quick give him the number, pointing to the screen to help him see just where he needs to put the cursor, willing him to type the number and keep the process moving forward.
He does. Up comes L's info, and then he gives the news........"Oh. This still needs a police clearance notice. I can do nothing."
What?! We've come this far! Come on, man! We don't say that, of course. Instead, Scott begins a series of questions such as, "What can we do to get the police clearance?" And I begin again to pray intensely, something that I'm sure Scott was doing while it was my turn.
And Rim turns to his screen again, hits refresh, and says, "Oh look, the police clearance is there! Very good....I will do this."
Cramazing.
He looks at me. "You, come back tomorrow, and I will have your passport. You (to Scott), come back the next day." Rim was a man who clearly enjoyed the fact that he was Really Important. We were glad to hear that we could get them both soon, but even one more day's delay would effect so much about the rest of Scott and Karen's plans. We still had to get to Delhi, get to the doctor, get to the Embassy, and get home. There was a lot to be done, and we couldn't spare another day's wait.
And Tuna knew it. So in his gentle but firm, pushing-but-not-too-much, ego-stroking-but-not-too-sweet, culturally appropriate way, Tuna began to argue/discuss with Really Important Man.
"Sir, they have come all the way from America. They have plane tickets that will have to be changed...it will cost them extra thousands of dollars. You can do this...I know that you have the power to do it."
Rim argued that he had an office full of passports to process! The Americans can wait! Tuna argued that for the Indians waiting, an extra day wouldn't matter. For the Americans waiting, an extra day would mean unforeseen cost that couldn't yet be numbered.
And he stands up. And we wonder what is happening. Is he kicking us out? He could revoke Tom's passport at this point if he wanted...maybe we should have been happy with the extra day's delay.
He makes his way past each of us and leaves the room. Scott and I look at Tuna and beg with our eyes to know what is happening. Because, of course, while some of the conversation was in English, a lot of it was in Oriya. We had no idea. But it turns out that Tuna wasn't sure either.
So we stood and waited. And prayed. Right there in that little office in Bhubaneswar, Orissa, India, we called upon the God of the universe to intervene. We asked Him to move on the heart of this man. We asked Him to give us grace to accept Rim's answer and to be respectful in our response. We asked in faith, for we knew that He could move. And we waited. It was nerve-wracking and exciting and scary and all that.
The door opened, and in walked Rim. With a single piece of paper. It was L's passport application, and he was signing, saying that he would make it happen by tomorrow. Completely and totally cramazing.
He was not going to give the passports to us directly but would send them in the normal post. He would make sure that they were mailed that evening so that they would hopefully arrive at the orphanage the next day.
Okay. That's great...we'll take it! Thank you, sir, thank you. Thank you so much. Yes, yes, get out of my hair, he seemed to say.
:)
Scott, Tuna, and I walked out quickly and with heads held high, praising our God for what we had just seen. We were so grateful for the cramazing ways that He had moved--right before our eyes. More had to be done, and our next stop was the post office...
Awesome, isn't it, that He is above and beyond time? For us, it was "immediate", but for Him, it just was. And is. His ways are unfathomable, and as I praised Him then, I praise Him now, just thinking about it.
Room 4 was cold (It felt wonderful!) and not nearly as crowded. Not even close. Inside was Really Important Man, Really Important Man's aide, and a couple of other people. It felt awkward and intrusive that we were just opening the door and walking in, but apparently, anyone who would dare attempt to walk in said room obviously had already gotten permission to enter; because as soon as Tuna opened the door, Really Important Man's aide waved us in and quickly shut the door behind us.
We stood by the door, the three of us, quietly watching the interactions in front of us. Really Important Man was not budging on the request that was currently at his desk. A man was standing there, pleading his case, and the head shaking back and forth, "No, no, no," kept coming. No matter what the man said, the answer was "No." And the emphasis of the syllable kept increasing in strength. "No. No! NO!" And eventually, "Don't you hear me? I said, 'No!' Now get out!" he seemed to be saying. And the man, slowly, defeatedly, walked out.
I can remember the feeling of that moment. Sort of like, "Oh goodness. That did not go well for him. Why should it be different for us?" My eyes scanned back and forth between Scott and Tuna, wondering what would happen next.
There was one man in front of us now, and he approached Really Important Man, handed him his paper, quickly got it signed, and exited. Just like that. And in a moment, it was our turn. We were up! Our chance, our time, to make our request to this earthly man and watch and see what the God of the universe would do.
Tuna stepped up and began to explain. Within a minute or so, Tuna was looking directly at me, waving me up to the desk, showing me where to stand, and non-verbally telling me that Rim (Really Important Man) wanted me to speak. So I shot up another prayer and stepped forward, explaining our case. We had come from America to meet our son and to take him home but we couldn't do that, obviously, without his passport. We had waited in America until the passport website from this office had made it clear that his passport was ready and would be so by the time we arrived. We had arrived, but no passport was there. We had come to Rim to request that the passport be delivered as promised.
There is much back and forth (Rim: "Come back tomorrow!" Tuna: "But, sir, we are here today, can you not help us today?"), but eventually, Really Important Man asks for the paper from the orphanage with Tom's information on it. Tuna hands it over, having had acquired it from Mr. D before walking into Room 4. Really Important Man looks at it and says to me, "I am a busy man! I will not look at this until it has been 30 days! Why do you bother me with this before it has been 30 days?!"
"It HAS been 30 days," I say. "No, it is only 20 days!" "No, it's been more than 30, actually! See, it was applied for on April 19. 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24...." And I proceed to count on my fingers until I reach 35--"It has been 35 days, sir!"
"Oh," he says. And he turns to his computer screen, pulls up Tom's file, studies it for what feel like forever, and finally says, "Okay, I will do this." He looks at his paper; he looks at the screen. He holds his pen high above the paper and lingers before signing, as if he's not sure if he really wants to do it or not. I remember praying, "Lord, you can move his hand right now. He can sign it and we get on a plane tomorrow, or he can change his mind and make us stay. Please move his hand." And with a stroke of his green pen, the order is made.
It's right about that time that I begin actually taking in my surroundings, including the huge stacks of passports and applications that are rubber-banded together and sitting in various spots all over his office. So what if he signed the paper....how in the world are they ever going to find Tom's passport if it's already printed and just sitting in that building somewhere?!
I'm back at the scene, and I jump in on Scott's case..."Sir, they've been waiting even longer! Their daughter's passport was applied for 51 days ago." Rim takes L's paper from Tuna, types in her info, and peruses it. "Okay, I will do this, too." Relief. Smiles across our faces.
But then I glance at the computer.
It's not her. That's not her. That picture isn't L!
I'm trying to say it, but for a moment or two, the reality of the situation is making my head spin. If that's not L (which it isn't), and he grants the wrong girl a passport (which it looks like he is doing), L and her parents will continue to be stuck in this cycle for who knows how long. I have to fight for L, so...
Sir, that's not her; Tuna, that's not her; Scott, the picture on the computer screen is not L!
"What?" says Rim. "What do you mean?" I gather myself and say, "I know that girl; she's another girl at the orphanage...but it's not L." And sure enough, we look closer at the paper provided by the orphanage, and the name is different. And so is the number.
"Well, I can do nothing then! What are you doing bringing me the wrong paper with the wrong number for the wrong person? Why are you wasting my time like this?!??!"
For a moment, all seems lost. But prayers are constantly being sent up, both by us and by many around the globe praying for these very moments. And God hears them and decides, in His mercy, to answer by continuing to make a way...
"I know her number," I say. (Because, you see, Really Important Man, for the last month, I've been obsessively checking your website, watching for updates on Tom's passport. And I just happened to be obsessing about L's passport, too. Hee hee.) So I quick give him the number, pointing to the screen to help him see just where he needs to put the cursor, willing him to type the number and keep the process moving forward.
He does. Up comes L's info, and then he gives the news........"Oh. This still needs a police clearance notice. I can do nothing."
What?! We've come this far! Come on, man! We don't say that, of course. Instead, Scott begins a series of questions such as, "What can we do to get the police clearance?" And I begin again to pray intensely, something that I'm sure Scott was doing while it was my turn.
And Rim turns to his screen again, hits refresh, and says, "Oh look, the police clearance is there! Very good....I will do this."
Cramazing.
He looks at me. "You, come back tomorrow, and I will have your passport. You (to Scott), come back the next day." Rim was a man who clearly enjoyed the fact that he was Really Important. We were glad to hear that we could get them both soon, but even one more day's delay would effect so much about the rest of Scott and Karen's plans. We still had to get to Delhi, get to the doctor, get to the Embassy, and get home. There was a lot to be done, and we couldn't spare another day's wait.
And Tuna knew it. So in his gentle but firm, pushing-but-not-too-much, ego-stroking-but-not-too-sweet, culturally appropriate way, Tuna began to argue/discuss with Really Important Man.
"Sir, they have come all the way from America. They have plane tickets that will have to be changed...it will cost them extra thousands of dollars. You can do this...I know that you have the power to do it."
Rim argued that he had an office full of passports to process! The Americans can wait! Tuna argued that for the Indians waiting, an extra day wouldn't matter. For the Americans waiting, an extra day would mean unforeseen cost that couldn't yet be numbered.
And he stands up. And we wonder what is happening. Is he kicking us out? He could revoke Tom's passport at this point if he wanted...maybe we should have been happy with the extra day's delay.
He makes his way past each of us and leaves the room. Scott and I look at Tuna and beg with our eyes to know what is happening. Because, of course, while some of the conversation was in English, a lot of it was in Oriya. We had no idea. But it turns out that Tuna wasn't sure either.
So we stood and waited. And prayed. Right there in that little office in Bhubaneswar, Orissa, India, we called upon the God of the universe to intervene. We asked Him to move on the heart of this man. We asked Him to give us grace to accept Rim's answer and to be respectful in our response. We asked in faith, for we knew that He could move. And we waited. It was nerve-wracking and exciting and scary and all that.
The door opened, and in walked Rim. With a single piece of paper. It was L's passport application, and he was signing, saying that he would make it happen by tomorrow. Completely and totally cramazing.
He was not going to give the passports to us directly but would send them in the normal post. He would make sure that they were mailed that evening so that they would hopefully arrive at the orphanage the next day.
Okay. That's great...we'll take it! Thank you, sir, thank you. Thank you so much. Yes, yes, get out of my hair, he seemed to say.
:)
Scott, Tuna, and I walked out quickly and with heads held high, praising our God for what we had just seen. We were so grateful for the cramazing ways that He had moved--right before our eyes. More had to be done, and our next stop was the post office...
2 comments:
Now it's my turn to cry. You perfectly captured the feelings I had as an adoptive Momma who watched as our "destiny" as a family seemed to hang in the balance and in the hands of someone on earth who seemed to enjoy their "important" job...while really all along God was in fact the one in charge...
cramazing
Oh my cramazingness!! Wow. Thank you for painting this picture - for telling this story. Truly God is glorified! Love, love, love. All of it-all that He's done.
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