Miracle at the Border

 Hetty, Natalia, Cecilia and Irais stand waiting with their suitcases outside the double glass doors of the Belizean Northern Border Office of Customs and Immigration. They are on their way to work in two separate mission projects in Queretaro and Nuevo Leon, Mexico. 

Is this place even open today?  I wonder silently. Nothing stirs but a slight ocean breeze, and things seem unusually dead, even for a Sunday. Not a single taxi is in sight, and the MOVE pickup is the only vehicle in the parking lot! Lyli and I are waiting to make sure the girls can get through before we leave, otherwise they will have a long walk back to Corozal, the nearest town on this side of the border.  

Finally, an officer pokes her head out the double doors.

            “You need to wear your masks and observe proper social distancing!” she scolds before retreating into the building. Another officer soon appears.

            “Names and passports!” He demands. “Do you have the letter of permission from the Chief of Foreign Affairs?”  

            “We wrote to him last Thursday, but we never received a reply,” Irais answers. 

            The officer shakes his head emphatically. 

“You should have called him on Friday when you saw you had no answer!” the lady officer is back outside and also back to her scolding. 

“Could you give us a number for the Minister of Foreign Affairs?” 

            “Yes, but it is only an office number and will do you no good today!” 

From my vantage on a covered bench across the road I can’t hear the rest of the conversation, but I can see the girls are asking questions, and the officers just keep shaking their heads. A few minutes later the girls come back dragging their luggage and the matter seems settled: “no can do! You shall not pass today!”  

            The girls would be okay with that, but unfortunately, they have already purchased their flight from Chetumal, the city just across the border, to Mexico City for tomorrow morning at 9 o’clock. Even if they stay the night in Corozal and try to cross in the morning, unless they are able to cross by six or seven at the latest, there is no way they will make their flight. 

             Cecilia calls the airlines. No, they cannot cancel the flight without penalty. Yes, they can change the flight for the difference in fare price. When is the next available flight? Not until August first! That is over a month from now! 

“Why don’t you write again to the Chief of Foreign Affairs and tell him you are waiting at the border?” I suggest. “Of course, it would be nothing short of a miracle if he checks his email on a Sunday, and even a greater miracle if he decides to answer it!” 

About this time a car passes by and the well-intentioned driver is kind enough to roll down his window and give us some advice: 

“You might as well go back!” he says. “Immigration is closed today. You won’t be able to do anything until tomorrow morning at 8 o’clock!” 

I am tempted to tell him that we are friends with the Chief Immigration Officer—the One who opened the impenetrable border between heaven and a sin-stricken world and who specializes in opening what is impossibly shut! If He wants these girls to travel today, they will! But then again, sometimes God leaves us to the consequences of our lack of due diligence in preparing ahead of time. Maybe this will be one of those times. I just say “Thanks,” smile and wave. 

Lyli meanwhile calls the girls together and prays that God will put it in the heart of the Chief of Foreign Affairs to check his email and send the necessary permission this afternoon. It is well past lunch time now. Cecilia and Nathalia decide to stay at the border while Lyli and I take the other girls back to Corozal to buy food and to show them the house of an Adventist sister who has offered to put them up for the night if needed. 

We are on our way back out to the border when Irais suddenly gasps in surprise. “I got an email from the Chief of Foreign Affairs! He sent the permission!” The girls squeal with joy and relief. God answered our prayer! He impressed a government official to check his work email on a Sunday, and softened his heart to give a prompt and positive answer!

Within the hour, Lyli and I watch as the girls cross the Belizean border and make their way to the Mexican border control where they pass with only minor delays. 

God has sent all of us with an essential message of warning and hope to a world that is about to perish. What seemingly impossible obstacles are holding you back from fulfilling your calling? Whatever they are, do not linger in fear and doubt. God is more than willing and able to open the way for you to work. The hearts of governors and kings he holds in His hands, as the rivers of water: he turns them wherever He will. (Proverbs 21:1). Only move forward in faith, trusting in Him who is the Living Way, who opens and no man can shut, and shuts and no man can open. 

 

             

P.S. The four girls from this story all arrived safely to their mission stations where they are happily serving in health, education, and personal evangelism. Irais is a previous MOVE graduate who has been in the mentorship program this year. The other three girls are all part of generation 13, this year's class session. 

Front to back: Irais, Cecilia, Hetty and Nathalia. 

"My Privilege"

 Early in the second week of June, Jeff got a desperate phone call from Honduras.  Joel, a fourteen-year old, with a rapidly-growing brain tumor needed an immediate med-evac flight to the U.S. 

“Please, won’t you help us?” The family pleaded. They were simultaneously applying for the visa at the U.S. embassy, and trying to find doctors who would donate their services. Jeff agreed to make the flight. He takes up the story in his own words:

 

On Wednesday I found out that Joel and his parents did get their visas, so I started to apply for a flight permit into Honduras which was closed because of COVID. The Lord worked it out! I found the right contacts and they sent me a PDF of the application. I printed it, filled it out by hand, scanned it and sent it to them, and then headed to the airport to test-fly the plane, as it had been parked for quite a while. I was close to the airport already when I stopped for gas, and saw that my application had been returned because it needed to be typed! So I called the office at MOVE to get someone to help me, and at the same time I looked for an App that would let me fill out the PDF on my phone. I found one, downloaded it, filled out the form, and sent it while sitting at the gas station. At the airport I did all the pre-flight checks, made my test flight, and as soon as I landed I saw another message on my phone. You’ve got to be kidding! They sent the application back again. “You didn’t mark the destination.” I checked, and sure enough, I had missed a box while trying to fill the form out on my little phone. So I fixed that and resent it, and I’m thinking man, so many delays! I don’t know. I’m supposed to fly the next day, but to get a permit in just a few hours is very difficult even under normal circumstances, let alone in the middle of a pandemic! But would you believe it, by seven o-clock that evening I had a response: my flight was approved for the next day! 

 

The sun’s first light caught Jeff zipping down the highway toward the Philip Goldson airport. Early starts are a must on all international mission flights, as it always takes time to file the required paperwork. At least today there would be no waiting in line, not in security, not in immigration, and not on the tarmac, as the airport was closed to international flights due to COVID. Jeff knew this flight could very well end up being one-way for an indefinite period of time. Who knew when Belize would allow him back in? 

“Your exit permit?” the plump immigration officer of fine ebony complexion held out her hand expectantly, her eyebrows poised.  

“Exit permit? I have never had to file for an exit permit before!” Jeff squawked. 

“Well you do now, and who knows how long it’s going to take.” The officer wagged her head.  All Jeff could do was fill out the application, and then it was hurry up and wait. He fueled up the plane, got everything ready to go, and returned to the immigration office to sit and wait for permission to leave. 

“Hey, have you been watching the news?” the lady immigration officer asked. 

“No, I haven’t. I kind of quit,” Jeff answered. 

“Really? Man, there’s riots and all kinds of things going on in the States,” she said. “But then you don’t know what it’s like to live a marginalized life!”

 “Well, a little bit.” Jeff replied.  “You know as a foreigner, you never have quite the same rights as a national.” His answer didn’t satisfy her though, and she kept pressing him. 

What? What’s going on? Jeff thought to himself. Lord, help me out here!  Then, suddenly, inspiration struck. 

“Well you know what, I will tell you what I do know, I know about privilege!” Jeff volunteered. 

The official’s eyebrows shot up and every head in the office swiveled. Had they really just heard the lanky white pilot admit his privilege to their remonstrating colleague?  

“Sure, I know about privilege!” Jeff reiterated. “I tell that to my kids every day! You know, my kids live an interesting lifestyle, they don’t quite live the same way as their cousins who have all the toys, the four-wheeler, the plastic playhouses, the swimming pools and stuff. We live a bit simpler. But compared to their friends at church, we are millionaires! Their friends at church are children of illegal immigrants, a lot of them don’t get three meals a day, they suffer! So, I tell my kids, you guys are so privileged! Their parents love each other, they have plenty to eat! And what do they do to deserve that? Nothing! But you know, with that privilege comes responsibility! My wife this morning was crying as I was leaving. She’s like ‘Baby, do you have to go?’ and I’m like, ‘Well, if it were our child, there would be no discussion!’ On the one hand I could think, why would I leave Belize, it doesn’t have COVID, I could stay here, but I happen to be privileged. I’m a pilot, I have and airplane. These guys called me up and need a medivac. This young kid, he’s only fourteen years old. So now he has an opportunity to go to the States and be treated by skilled physicians, maybe they’ll be able to save his life!

So you are an immigration officer, you have privilege too! How many Belizeans wouldn’t like to have your job! You know, it’s easy to get on Facebook and rail about what everybody else isn’t doing, and neglect your own privilege! I know a lot of people who would consider it a privilege to have the life that other folk are lamenting! But in any case, the most important thing is that we are living to bless others with the privilege that we have. I’m not trying to say that what other people are doing isn’t wrong, but I can’t make their decisions for them! But I can sure make the decisions about what I’m doing! Anyway, you may not realize it, but even now I’m stressed! Man, I’ve got this kid’s life on my hands, I didn’t even know about the exit permit, and here we are, I’m waiting, and I’m supposed to get this kid up there as quick as I can, and it’s a difficult situation!” 

At this point one of the other immigration officers suddenly piped up, “Can I pray with you?”

“Sure! That would be wonderful!” Jeff was thrilled. 

The officer had a beautiful prayer right there in the middle of the waiting room, asking for God’s intervention and protection on behalf of Jeff and Joel. Everyone was touched, and it was a softened group of thoughtful officers that Jeff left behind when the exit permit finally came through. 

The flight to Honduras went well. Jeff landed, loaded up Joel and his parents, fueled the plane and headed for Key West, getting in just ahead of a thunderstorm. After clearing immigration and customs, they were back in the plane ready to go when a thunderstorm hit, delaying takeoff. The sun had set by now, as the airplane climbed up into a black thunderstorm soup, and Jeff had to weave his way north. His plan was to land in Ashville, North Carolina, but when he called the airport, they said the airstrip was closed for renovation. Jeff explained his situation, and the controllers agreed to hold the runway open for him until he could land. 

“When I finally got there at around 12:30 am, I didn’t know why, I figured a couple of people were working there, but there were a ton of trucks down there and they had waited for me to get in before working on the airport, it was really kind of them.” Jeff explained. 

            Joel was admitted to the hospital a few hours later and treatment began immediately. Two days later, on Sabbath, June 13 the hospital staff sent Jeff the following message: 

“This evening for the first time Joel started talking! Just little words like ‘hola,’ ‘si’, `no’ and ‘gracias.’ First time in almost two weeks! We want you to know how thankful we are that God sent your right at the last moment to help save this child’s life!”

            “Joel speaking again is the most encouraging sign and all the MDS and nurses are amazed at the whole plane ride and how this child came to them. It is clearly a testimony to the world of who God is and how he works and uses others as His hands” Jeff commented in the MOVE staff group chat. 

On Tuesday, June 16 Jeff forward us another update. 

“They are doing chemo. Joel has a germ-cell tumor in the pineal part of the brain which is right in the center. There are two types, unfortunately he has the worst one. It’s growing rapidly and is too large to take out. The good news is that this type of tumor responds well to chemo and they believe he will recover and eventually be a normal teenage boy again. Jeff you got him here just in time brother, he wouldn’t have made it much longer.” 

Unfortunately, Joel didn’t make it much longer even with treatments and the doctors’ best efforts. 

            “We’re so sorry…” the family liaison told Jeff over the phone. “Sorry you did everything you did only to have this outcome.” 

            “I’m not sorry!” Jeff replied. “I mean, I am so sorry Joel passed away, but I am not at all sorry I made the flight. If you asked me again, I would do it again. We don’t know the future, and I prefer to live life with no regrets. And I don’t regret taking him at all. It was my privilege!”

Joel, ready to get on the plane

In the plane

Joel, before the tumor struck

            To the day of this writing (September 25), Jeff is still in the U.S., working on a building project for a mission base in Tennessee. In early July he was able to return as far as the Philip Goldson airport to drop some things for the school and to pick up his family, although he was barely allowed out of his plane, coming as he was from a pandemic hotbed! 

Jeff and his family are still trying to make their privileges count for the Kingdom of God, as they take advantage of opportunities to reach out to everyone God puts in their pathway, from a missionary’s video-gaming brother, to a navy officer and his family who spent last Friday in the Sutton home and stayed for family worship to welcome in the Sabbath! 

So how about you? What are you doing with your privileges? All around us there are people dying to have the peace, hope, purpose and every other privilege we have through Christ. Won’t you share the love wherewith Christ has loved you in every way possible? It is the best investment you will ever make!