Wednesday, December 9, 2009

Game Day

I'm sitting in my hotel room with my stomach in knots. It's almost 11:00 a.m. our time and I'm hoping and praying our attorney calls and says our certifications are finally ready after waiting over a month for them.

Our game plan is to get the certifications and take them directly to the governing body in the city the Daniel was born. We have a driver on stand-by waiting to take me, Daniel, and a paralegal to Chimaltenango. There we will beg for them to issue a birth certificate today. Daniel and I will give them our most pitiful faces (we're really good at this) and pray for a miracle.

Here are the rules to our game. If the certifications aren't ready today, there may not be time to do the final steps in time for a Christmas homecoming. We've been told that the US Department of State will only do Visa interviews on Mondays, Tuesdays and Wednesdays and that they will not be open the week of Christmas. We need to get our birth certificate today, his passport tomorrow or Friday, and have our final documents translated and ready to be submitted on Monday. If all this happens, we could have our son home by the end of next week.

But our attorney e-mailed me last night that the person who has to sign off on our certifications is swamped and isn't sure if he'll even get them done today. (Ulcer number one.) And if the Renap in Chimaltenango refuses to issue the birth certificate and makes us go through the Central Renap governing body, it will take a couple weeks to get our new birth certificate and there will be no way to get home in time for Christmas. (Ulcer number two.)

And if there are ANY errors in our certifications and these documents have to go back to our family court that is going on vacation for a month this Friday, then we will have to wait till our family court reopens on Jan. 14 to continue with the process and either Brad or I will have to live here till early February. (Ulcers three, four, and five.)

To add to the stress, Daniel is very aware of how many days till Christmas and how close we are to not making it home. This morning he said, "Only 16 days to get home for Christmas. Pray, pray, pray." It's the most depressing advent calendar countdown ever.

Thanks for letting me whine. I hate even wasting your time with these silly details. We are so blessed. There are people who have lost loved ones this past year and are facing unimaginable grief. There are people who have children who are critically ill and aren't sure if their child will even live to see next Christmas. This is so small in the grand scheme of things, yet to one little boy and his family . . . it seems like everything.

This is our "Hail Mary" shot with seconds left on the clock. The ball is in the air and we're waiting to see if it will make it into the hoop. Thanks for cheering in the stands and praying on our behalf.

Five . . . four . . . three . . . two. . . .

More Than Lots,

1 comment:

Lelia said...

Anxiously awaiting your next post. . .