Ready for collection

While I may never have spoken to a live body at the Chicago consulate (Alright, once – after which I erased the extension that I had used, forgetting the reason I had made note of the 4 random numbers), I did receive my visa the day before my departure. I will now do my best to explain how I experienced this miracle unfold.

As indicated previously, I was uncertain as to whether this trip was the right choice for me, or right at this point in my life. While pursuing some spiritualized understanding of those emotions and uncertainties, I had no idea how to behave. Typically, in the hours before beginning any sort of trip I begin to obsess about all of my pre-travel necessities (after ignoring them entirely during the preceding days). For example, the night before leaving, I won’t be able to sleep until my things are cleaned, organized and packed neatly (which is not a reflection of any personal habit of cleanliness), resulting in many sleepless nights (for real – all nighters full of suitcase arranging) prior to boarding an airplane. In the case of this trip, without a definitive date of departure there was no way for me to go through my obsessive preparations… obsessively. (Parenthetical #5.)

Rather, any preparation would have been proactivity, to which I am almost allergic.

I really ought to build up some immunity. 

Alas, Wednesday night the parents received a message that someone wanted to see the house the next day; a showing was scheduled and I was issued an ultimatum to move the piles of clothing off of my floor and into my suitcases, or else carry the guilt burden for the house not selling (a fabricated lie. #6.). So I did. All of a sudden I had packed suitcases, but no legal permission to arrive at my destination. My desire to continue fussing, preparing, and dialing 4-digit numbers at the consulate answering machine were stumped by the realization that there was nothing left for me to do.

In true divine fashion, the commentary in devotional for that day (1 Sam 28-31) said:

“Panic and fear can cause us to do foolish things. Pray for God’ wisdom in your decision making, especially in areas that involve great stress” (Reader’s Guide to the Bible).

While unlike Saul I was not consulting a deceased spirit or killing myself in battle, any decision that I could have made out of my own understanding in this circumstance would have been futile. I knew nothing, and knew to do nothing more.

Father, on the other hand, had an idea. Contacting a colleague in Chicago, he was connected with a woman (Anna) who would be willing to inquire for me at the consulate in exchange for five pounds of Brazil nuts.

If she had asked for a 10 page paper about Brazil nuts, I would have been her girl.

So that night (still Wednesday), Dad and I rushed over to his office to create a notarize-able document that would bequeath the right to represent myself on the aforementioned affable Anna. Our prayers on the drive to the office are summarized thusly:

Lord, if Gwen is not supposed to go to Brazil, continue to prevent her from going. Otherwise, lead us in our next step, and give us the patience and will to trust you.

So we determined to be faithful to “the process,” despite not knowing what that process fully entailed. Skip forward to the next day, 9:43am. While I had been frequently checking my visa’s USPS return tracking number, I had long given up on the Brazilian consulate’s “visa status check” application. However, at this moment I set aside my preference for U.S. governmental organizations and logged in. BAM.

Yes, I took a screen shot.

“Holy wow! This was so much better than I thought! Now instead of asking whether or not my application and passport were buried under a pile of feijoada, awesome Anna might actually be able to pick this thing up! Maybe she’ll only have to yell a little!”

Fast forward to 12:03pm that day. Annathemana (or manna, depending on your perspective) has left her Chicago office, walked the half-mile to the consulate, and is waiting to speak with a clerk. Now, as I was very familiar with the consulate’s business hours (“Our visa department is open from 9am to 11am for applications, and from 12pm to 1pm for pick up”), the thought that my representative might show up at just the right time to pick up this supposedly authorized legal document made me quite pleased. One last check on the status checker, and boom bam. Ready for collection. So Ms. Annamazing picked up the packet and had it shipped to me overnight. And I will likely never deal with the Brazilian consulate in Chicago ever, ever again. Amen.

But for all of y’all out there, to whom this small but awesome miracle may not be evident, I have been reveling in the idea that although my dad could have thought up sending a rep to the consulate at any point during this process, the day that he was moved to do so, my visa (OUT OF NOWHERE) showed up. Ready to be picked up, no yelling necessary. This was truly a mir-Anna-cle.

Devotional commentary for that day:

As you pray these psalms, reflect on God as the great center of all life an the provider of all you need. Commit yourself in a fresh way to seeking, trusting, hoping in, and loving Him.

Psalm 121

¹ I lift up my eyes to the mountains—
    where does my help come from?
² My help comes from the Lord,
    the Maker of heaven and earth.

³ He will not let your foot slip—
    he who watches over you will not slumber;
⁴ indeed, he who watches over Israel
    will neither slumber nor sleep.

⁵ The Lord watches over you—
    the Lord is your shade at your right hand;
⁶ the sun will not harm you by day,
    nor the moon by night.

⁷ The Lord will keep you from all harm—
    he will watch over your life;
⁸ the Lord will watch over your coming and going
    both now and forevermore.

I love the way this shows a two-way interaction -- David lifting his eyes up to the Lord, and the Lord constantly watching over him. The concept and poignancy of having face-to-face interaction with God has been on my mind recently. Evidently, this day it was easy to thank God for his help and provision.

So with the arrival of my approved visa, I got the word that I also was "ready for collection," and about to head out. As I finish this blog, I have spent a total of 12 hours in Rio de Janeiro and am listening to rain fall and families holler at each other in Portuguese from my bedroom window. I have yet to be meet with the Brazilian police (another necessary legal step), but I am looking forward to seeing more of why I've been collected for this trip (or colocado... = placed. parenthetical #15).