Passport, Shmassport

Have you ever had an experience that made you say, "Seriously? I am so much better than that!" I had one of those moments exactly one year ago. Some of you may know the story, but I thought I'd share it here, along with how it had a lasting impact on me. Plus, the statute of limitations on embarrassing stories is one year, so it's okay to look back and laugh at myself a little. Key words being "a little."

I flew back to the States in March 2020 as the world started to go into lockdown. I was on one of the last flights out of Managua. I finished the school year online, and my parents graciously put up with me for about five months. (Thanks mom and dad!) In August, I booked a flight to Managua. I went and got tested for Covid (a requirement for entering Nicaragua), but the flight got cancelled. I forget exactly how many times my flight got cancelled. All of the teachers who were in the States were getting antsy and anxious about returning to Nicaragua, and finally, the school decided to book a private charter flight for us. This was the only guaranteed way to get back to Nicaragua. 

Because the Covid test requirements were so strict and specific, I decided to join most of the other teachers in Miami 3 days before we flew to Managua. There was a lab there that offered the right test with rapid results. So we all got tested, then enjoyed the next couple of days. We were all grateful to receive negative Covid tests, but there was still anxiety about getting back, so we prayed often for smooth travels. 

The day arrived! On Friday, we woke up in our hotel rooms and started gathering things to head to the airport. In my room, Amy said, "Okay, everyone! Passport check!" to which I replied, "Yeah, because I left my passport in Indiana." (Note: that should be read in an extremely sassy voice.) I reached for my passport, but it wasn't there. A pit fell into my stomach. I messaged my dad, and it went something like this:

6:40 am

Me: Hey dad, I'm having trouble finding my passport. Can you do a look in my room on the dresser and in the drawers to see if you see it?

I received the following reply at 6:47 am.

The next few hours were some of the longest of my life. I went to the airport with the group, but was prepared to fly back to Indiana that day. Long story short, with only a paper copy of my passport, a coaching session from someone on the ground in Nicaragua of what to say upon arrival, and an army of prayer warriors, I was allowed to board the plane. The first half of the flight was agonizing. I cried and prayed, then cried and prayed some more. But after a stop to refuel in Jamaica, I felt nothing but peace and a certainty that I was in God's will. With each mile closer, the more convinced I was that I would be sleeping in my own bed in Managua that night.

We landed and had to go through customs. The guy at the entrance asked me for my passport, and I had to say (in my broken Spanish) that I didn't have it. I had left it in Indiana. Another man took my paper copy of my passport and told me to follow him. He handed it to the guy at passport control and told him that he'd have to use the piece of paper in lieu of a passport. As the man at the computer folded up my passport copy, I just apologized profusely and assured him I have never done anything like this before. He smiled kindly and responded, "No es una problema." Call me crazy, but this seems like the textbook definition of a problem.

He scanned the paper and asked me the usual questions about what I do in Nicaragua and how long I was gone; then he handed me back my passport copy, and told me I was free to enter the country. There were more tears, this time tears of joy and disbelief. I slept very well in my own bed in Managua that night.

My parents sent me my passport via DHL, and I haven't misplaced it since.

As with any experience like this, I asked why this happened. But what I haven't told you is that, in the weeks leading up to my departure, I was conflicted on returning. I was preparing to take on a new role as secondary guidance counselor, and I was doubting that returning, especially in a new role, was the right thing. So when I left Indiana, I prayed, "God, reassure me this year that I am in the right place and here for a purpose." When I discovered the missing passport, I thought, "This is it. God is making it clear that I am not to return to Nicaragua." In retrospect, I see that God was making it abundantly clear that I was right where I was supposed to be. 

Throughout the year, I had moments of doubt. Was I really supposed to be here? And God would just whisper, "Passport". That word, passport, may seem insignificant to you, but it has become a symbol of God's faithfulness, of His promise to never leave me, and an assurance that He has a plan. 

So there you have it - the story of how I legally flew to and entered another country without a passport. But more importantly, it's yet another case of God showing that He can make a way where it seems there is none. I hope this has encouraged you that, even if the way forward seems impassable, God has a plan in it.