"The Government has refused renewing our visas!" My husband shocked uttered these words. "What does it mean?" I asked, barely being able to handle the depth of my emotions welling up. "We can not go back!" I feared hearing this answer for many years but knew some day it will come. We can not go back...I repeated these words over and over in my mind like I wanted it to rather change over like a coin. I felt shivers of shock, disbelieve running up and down my body. It made way for disappointment and anger...
It is my home, my life, my house, we live there, my children's hearts will be broken. What about my dear friends there, my neighbors and all I love and know. What and how are we going to tell the children? My dear children, it is the only home they have ever known since they were tiny babies. These questions raced endlessly through my mind.
How can this happen now, while we are not even in the country? How mean can they be? We do not even have the opportunity to say goodbye, pack up our home, our stuff after nine years. The next few weeks following this sad news went by in a blur, on hold..and I played events out over and over in my mind. I had so many questions and my heart felt stripped and was throbbing and aching for my host country, now only a dream.
"Think about your children, you can not take the risk to go back and land up in jail." friends were advising us. Some advice sadly and heart piercing were: "Just leave it all, don't go back. You did not have much anyway!" Yes we did not own the house we lived in and the few pieces of furniture were second hand. The car was not much worth either, the school books we can replace. We can gather up some new dolls and toys where ever we will go again.
BUT how can I tell my heart to not ache and grief for this nation and people, this people group God has called us to lay down our lives for. I can not just give it all up and wave goodbye. These are my people this is my inheritance. I love my neighbors. I suffered, laughed, grieved, rejoiced about new babies being born, danced and weddings. Sat through power failures in the cold winters at candlelight and had no running water for weeks at a time. Cooked many pots of rice with friends on the open fire. My heart can not just wave this off!
As a family we prayed, seeked council and advice. We decided to go back for a period of a week as our visas only expired in a few weeks. We felt encouraged by God to go back, support the church there and say goodbye. How my heart ached to leave the children behind at our parents. Not knowing if all were clear with our visas as we understood.
As the airplane touched down in the capital city we took hands and prayed. I felt the words of this song welled up in my heart. "Jesus great above all." We were somewhat nervous as we handed our passports in at passport control. What if they refused our entry, what if they keep us on the airport for days, what if they put us in jail? It felt like minutes ticking by as the policeman at passport control scanned our photos and typed our information onto the computer. People impatiently behind us started commenting on why were he taking so much time. I left out a soft but deep sigh of relieve as he picked up and stamped our passports. I could not helped it but tears of relieve were streaming uncontrolably as we gathered our one suitcase and headed out for the last police check. The policeman wanted to know why I was crying. With a big smile I said: "Oh I'm so happy to be back!" Little did he really know about the full truth of this.
Dear friends received us at the airport with a big bunch of flowers, many tight hugs and encouragement. "You can not go to the village." They warned us. "Your house helper has been interogated and questioned by the police about your work. There was a Court case against you for being involved in religious activity. It is to dangerous." they warned.
After coming home from the airport I layed my eight big box action packers on the floor and went from room to room and drawer to drawer picking out what I really wanted. Most of the boxes were filled with books and sentimental objects. The hardest was going into the children's room and having to pick through their stuff and make decisions on what is valuable and what not.
Yes, we did decide to go to our friends in the village to support and encourage them. We felt the Lord urging us to do this. One evening after dark a friend drove us in his car to the village we lived and worked for seven years. The gate of the high walled yard were quickly opened and closed as we drove in, not to draw much attention. There they all were our dear local friends, teammates and now closer than family. That evening as my husband likes to say: "There were no cultural boundaries, just friends that loved one another." As we greeted, we cried, laughed and hugged one another with such joy but deep sadness.
I was so proud of my husband as he brought the most important but last message to this dear group of people, we talked and shared till late that night. The next morning before sunrise we left again. As we drove away from this place my heart was breaking. Tears were streaming down my face. I felt the words forming in my heart..."Don't be sad you will come back one day." These words brought such comfort and peace to the ache of having to say goodbye for ever.
Looking back now a few years down the road, we are living in a new host culture. God has carried us through this very difficult time. He was and is faithful in every way. Our dear friends in the village still have a very deep and special part in my heart and life, and I think it will always be like this.
