This is it! If you read any of my stories, make it this one, for it tells of a modern day miracle that our family experienced firsthand as God brought us home from Colombia.
It’s long so it’s broken up into two sections in case you don’t have time to read it in one sitting.
Adventures – Post # 5 – God at the Airport
Part 1
He that dwelleth in the secret place of the Most High Shall abide under the shadow of the Almighty. I will say of the LORD, He is my refuge and my fortress: My God; in him will I trust. Psalm 91:1-2
My heart is full as I write this story telling how God brought our family home from Colombia.
Throughout this whole adoption process, we’ve had to hand over the logistics to God. Anyone who knows Brandon and me understands that we like order, schedules, and plans that make sense. No matter how we looked at it, no matter how long we’ve been parents, no matter how much planning we put into it, the bottom line is that there was no way to get two adults, four children, eight pieces of luggage, six backpacks, a stroller, and a case of important documents from Bogotá back to the US in an organized way. Add in the fact that we realized we’d have to manage checked luggage in Bogotá and in Miami, go through security in Bogotá and in Miami, go through immigration and customs with an added adoption process in Miami, it seemed overwhelming. We hadn’t known all the steps when we booked the flight that only had an hour and a half layover in Miami. We realized too late that an hour and a half would not be enough time. We were overwhelmed and didn’t sleep much the night before. Brandon said, “You know that scene from Home Alone where everyone is running like maniacs through the airport? That’s going to be us.” I laughed as though he was kidding but somehow I knew he probably wasn’t.
On the morning we left, God kept putting, “The joy of the Lord is our strength” on my mind. I kept thinking how it seems like it should be reversed. Like, the strength of the Lord brings joy. But no, God let it sink in that morning that it’s the JOY of the Lord that gives us strength.
Also, God brought to my mind how a few days prior Brandon had suddenly received hundreds of spam emails in his outlook account. When a “spam bomb” happens, someone is usually hacking into an account and those hundreds of spam emails are sent to distract from what’s really going on. After some searching, sure enough, we found a legitimate email from a Walmart online purchase for over $700 and it was buried in the copious amount of emails. We got the hacked Walmart order canceled and reset the password. But on the morning we were leaving, God brought to mind that all these stressors of where our van was parked, our not long enough layover, and all the logistics were being used as a distraction from what He was actually doing. We should have JOY in that God has been faithful, and JOY in that we were bringing Mila home! And that JOY would bring us strength. We prayed that morning praising God that he goes before and behind us and asked Him to protect and help us.
We left our hotel that morning at 10:30am and arrived at the Bogotá airport around 11am. After about 2 or 3 hours of waiting in line, we got to our boarding area, ate some squished pb&j sandwiches that we had made that morning, and used the restroom. As soon as Mila and I returned from the bathroom, Brandon said, “I think the flight staff called your name.” I went to talk to the American Airlines staff and in mixed Spanish and English, I learned a few things. I had been randomly chosen for a special security check, I needed to get my passport, boarding pass, and carryon, and I needed to follow a certain lady. I was carrying Mila in the ergo baby carrier looking back over at Brandon with the three boys, five backpacks, two carryon luggage pieces and a stroller. The flight staff said, “They can go ahead and board right now too.” I motioned to Brandon and followed the lady.
While I stood in line waiting my turn to be “special” security checked, I watched Brandon step up to the regular security tables and watched as our bags were searched. It didn’t take long, and I motioned and told Brandon to go ahead and board with the boys. As he was passing by, he said, “She told me they upgraded our tickets. We are now in premium seats?” He shrugged his shoulders, and I told him I would find them.
I was called to go behind the partition by a man who only spoke Spanish. As instructed, I set my bag on the table and unzipped it. The first thing I saw was a big bag of meds, some prescription, some not, many of them Brandon’s. “Oh great,” I thought. This is going to be painful. But as I pulled the bag of meds out, he motioned that it wasn’t necessary and said I could put it back in. He then took a small white wipe and began wiping my bag, my hands, and the straps on the ergo carrier. He kept sticking the wipe into his computer. Then he told me to sit and take off my shoes. I didn’t understand his Spanish. “Sit down. Take off shoes,” he said as he pointed to a metal barstool. Oh, so the guy did know a little English. I did as he asked, and he bent and twisted my shoes until he was satisfied that I wasn’t carrying a bomb or drugs I suppose. He handed me my passport, smiled and told me something in Spanish that probably meant have a nice flight.
It wasn’t hard to find Brandon as their premium seats were in the first cabin. When it was confirmed that Mila had a window seat right beside Emmett, that’s where she and I sat. Brandon was in the second row behind us with Allen at a window and Everett had a whole premium middle row to himself. You can imagine how nice of a flight it was. Mila was so excited as she looked out the window and pointed. We taxied on the ground for a while and by the time we were taking off, that smiley little girl was laid out across my lap sleeping. She slept most of the flight while Emmett sat beside me enjoying a complimentary Coca-cola with his tray table out and headphones in watching a Disney movie.
Mila was awake by the time we landed in Miami. She officially became a US citizen as soon as the wheels touched down in the US. We celebrated with a few quiet whoops and hollars over the sound of the plane landing.
We had made good time and hoped to get off the plane early. However, there was another plane unloading at our station and it ended up being about 20 more minutes until we were finally able to pull up and get off. “Emmett you get that bag, I have Mila’s and mine.” I saw Brandon getting the overhead luggage. We were some of the first few people off the plane. And we were ready to do all we could to make our next flight in an hour and a half. The problem was, everyone else was in a rush too.
I’m not even sure how to begin describing the next two hours of our journey. But I’ll start by saying that the flight scene from Home Alone looked calm compared to our time at the Miami airport. Plus, how long was that frantic running scene in the movie? Maybe 30 seconds? Our crazy airport scenario lasted over two hours in our case. Yes, I said two hours, and I know we were only supposed to have an hour and a half in Miami.
Adventures – Post # 5 – God at the Airport
Part 2
As soon as we got off the plane in Miami, we took all four children, a stroller, two carryons, and six backpacks and hurried around the corner to find choices: an up escalator or an elevator. We were already in a crowd, and we didn’t have time to wait on the elevator.
We have one boy child in particular who doesn’t handle escalators well. I won’t say which boy, but it isn’t my youngest and it isn’t his twin named Emmett. He usually is scared and stalls blocking other people. Or he does get on but stretches his legs way far out like Buddy if you’ve ever seen the escalator scene in Elf. Or he falls and sits on his bottom until he reaches the top. But all this didn’t matter since waiting for every elevator at the airport wasn’t an option. We went for the first escaltor. He stalled a bit and a few people were interrupted mid-stride, but overall, it wasn’t bad. We continued dashing with the crowded mass, holding hands, wheeling luggage, and counting children. We took a few of the moveable walkways and kept pace with the crowd. We ended at a skytram entrance and waited only a couple minutes until the next tram appeared. As the doors opened, Brandon said, “You get on and I’ll stay back and make sure all the kids make it.” I heard the announcement “Doors Closing” just as I went forward in the crowd. We squished and shuffled and somehow got all the kids and luggage on as the doors closed. The tram slung us as we grabbed handles and each other to steady and in less than a minute we were stopped and the doors were back open. People flooded out in a running speed and we ran with them. Down an escaltor, Brandon had gotten ahead of us, and I motioned to tell him to keep going. I’d keep up with the kids. We rounded the corner to two people ushering us. One was a lady speaking Spanish telling non-US citizens to go one way and the other was a man shouting, “US Citizens, right this way.” I won’t lie when I say I felt relieved to be back with people who speak English. I love Spanish but handling business in Spanish is stressful. From here on out, the paperwork and business aspects would be easier. Brandon had been ahead of us and stepped up to the man and said, “Cinco US citizens y una adopción.” The man looked at him funny. Brandon realized he was still trying to speak Spanish and switched, “We have five US citizens and one adoption.” I breathed a sigh of relief as we followed the direction of the man’s hands who was directing citizens.
We stood in line, catching our breath and watching time tick on our watches. When it was our turn, we showed passports and adoption papers. They took pictures of us that I really hope never surface for we were all sweaty and disheveled from our mad dash. The man handed our passports back, and I said, “Gracias.” I mean… Umm.. Nevermind. Three weeks in Colombia had our brains on automatic Spanish.
A lady officer took us back with the adoption paperwork. Brandon mentioned that we were trying to catch a 9pm flight and asked if it was even feasible. She said that she thought we could make it. However, moments later she walked back and said, “Just so you know, there are two adoptions in front of you.” We sat and stood in a crowded immigration room with a soccer game playing on television and a lot of immigrants all waiting for their names to be called. Time ticked by. We went to the vending machine and bought waters, Gatorade, and peanut butter crackers for supper. Time ticked by. It was 8:30. We began realizing there was no way we’d make our flight. Thoughts of hotels in Miami, policies on switching flights, our van in Raleigh, all the logistics started flooding our minds. But then, “Milagros Leebrick” was called.
The man stamped her visa page in her passport, told us that it serves as proof of citizenship until she receives her next paperwork, and directed us to our next stop. Checked luggage. Yep, as if 2 carry on luggage pieces, 6 backpacks, a stroller, and four children wasn’t enough, we headed to baggage claim to get our five huge checked luggage pieces to re-check to Raleigh.
It was 8:45. We wondered if we should even try. But we scurried until we found rows of conveyors spiraling as far as we could see. We stopped at information who told us to check #7. We rushed and got there just as they were loading up our luggage to put away since it hadn’t been claimed. Somehow, I still don’t know how, we skirted along with all the luggage, kids, stroller, and backpacks. I myself had a backpack and an ergo still strapped to me, was pushing the stroller with Mila in it, and trying to quickly steer two huge rolling check bags. We rushed. 8:55. Brandon stopped to ask a lady which direction to go and darted off in the direction she pointed. I told Allen, “Hurry” as we started off and the lady said, “There’s no need.” I turned back trying to process what she meant, and then asked, “You mean there’s no need to hurry because we will never make our flight.” She nodded, not in meanness, but just in honesty. I turned to tell Brandon that it was over. That we could slow down. That we wouldn’t make it. But he was already gone up ahead and had turned the corner. I hurried along with Mila and Allen to catch up. My purpose was to tell Brandon to slow down. But God had different plans.
An American Airlines lady rounded the corner going in the opposite direction. “Where are you going?” She asked hurriedly. I told her that I was following my husband who was up ahead and that we were late for a flight. Before I could finish speaking, she said, “Hurry!” She grabbed the two checked bags and rolled them for me, and we ran together to catch up to Brandon. When we reached the American Airlines desk with our check bags, the lady said, “Leave them! We have them! Run!” And the lady grabbed our boys backpacks and took off to show us where to go. We ran following her. I was pushing Mila and hollering back to my tired kids. “Everett, Run! You have to keep going!” When we reached the next line, the lady handed our kids’ backpacks back to us and told us, “Have a nice flight.” I don’t know if it’s normal for Airline employees to carry luggage and run across the airport with families, but she was amazing. I knew God had sent her.
The line we were in was security. Again. Belts off. Shoes off. Suspenders off. Neck pouches off. Wallets out. Laptops and electronics out. Out of the stroller. Juice spilled. Bag being checked. Lady Officer wrapping spilled juice and baby food packs. Belts on. Shoes on. Suspenders, oh just cram them in a bag. Baby food bag handed back. “Here Allen, this is very important. Hold Daddy’s wallet!” Those words were actually spoken as we tried to put ourselves back together. Chaos. Back in the stroller. Running again.
At that point, I counted children. I didn’t care if we lost a piece of luggage, but did we have the children? Yes. All four. Still running. Brandon hollered back at me, “My pouch! Do you have the passports?” I looked down to see I was holding them in my hand. “I have them!” I hollered back. We rounded the corner to E7 our gate at 9:15. Late. But was it too late? We had tried so hard.
No one. No one at the desk and the doors were closed. “The lady was right,” I thought. We missed it.
All the logistics entered my head again. Hotels. Flights. Van. What would we do? But Brandon cut through my thoughts and pointed, “The plane is still here.” I looked out to see the plane we were supposed to be on still attached. So close, but we didn’t make it.
Brandon looked around for someone and at the next desk over was told if no one was at the desk and the doors were shut, then the flight had closed. “It’s over,” we thought again. So we stood and waited for someone to come tell us our options since we had missed this flight.
Then a man wandered up behind us in line. “Did you miss this flight too?” we asked. “Yeah, I fell asleep and have been waiting right there since 7pm.” He stood and waited with us. Long minutes passed. We felt tired and defeated. But God had plans.
From around the corner and behind us, a man and pregnant woman came running up along with two Miami-Dade police officers. The couple got in line behind us catching their breath as the police officers went through the doors onto the airplane. Brandon turned to the couple, and asked “Are you supposed to be on this flight?” They nodded and said they had a long crazy story. They told us the police officers were trying to get them on the plane.
The Miami police came back out and joked that they had strong armed the flight staff and they were going to let us on. “They’re getting you guys on the plane,” he said with a swoop of his arm. Only he was looking at the whole group of us standing there. All of us.
We were dumbfounded. Astonished. Right before our eyes, the empty desk was lit up with a flurry of keyboard typing as American Airline flight staff returned to the closed station. We were the first in line and they asked for our tickets. As Brandon handed over the tickets in disbelief, he turned back to the couple who had come with the police officers, “I don’t know your story, but you guys are angels tonight.”
The staff was very friendly, not even acting the slightest upset or inconvenienced. More astonishment. They scanned our tickets, and I looked at the closed doors. Not wanting to set off any alarms, I asked if they would open the doors for us. “Just step on the mat,” the man said, “The doors will open.” Allen stepped on the mat and nothing happened. “Oh, I closed the flight,” the man said. And he mumbled, “You didn’t hear that,” as he swiped his card and punched in a code for the doors to open.
As we walked onto that plane, I was in shock. It was past 9:30pm. How was this happening? The airline staff had told us, “There’s room but you don’t have your assigned seats anymore. Just sit wherever you can and try not to leave the kids by themselves. Put your luggage wherever.”
I dreaded facing the fellow passengers as I was certain they’d be irritated with the late people filing onto the plane. We walked right into three rows that were empty. They actually had been our assigned seats. We stuffed backpacks and luggage and got situated. A pleasant lady sitting next to us was not irritated at all. She sweetly talked with the boys who offered all kinds of information about our adoption journey and why we were on this plane. I pulled out Mila’s baby food pouches to find them all wrapped in paper towels and the juice dried up by the security lady. As Mila ate the food, I was grateful the lady had cleaned up the mess. Grateful for the American Airlines employee who had grabbed our bags and run across the airport with us when we were about to give up. Grateful for the police officers. Grateful for the pleasant lady sitting beside us. As we were sitting on a flight we should have never made… JOY! It was JOY we felt and as late as it was and as tired as we were, we had the JOY of the Lord and it gave us strength!
We took off and the lights were dimmed on our way to Raleigh. Allen fell asleep and the kind lady held his head as we were landing so he wouldn’t get hurt. As my phone began getting signal around Raleigh, it lit up with messages of friends saying, “I’m praying for you!”
We sat still as everyone filed off the plane once the plane had docked in Raleigh. We thanked the kind lady and told her goodbye. We would just wait to be the last ones off since we had sleeping kids who would be slow and cranky most likely.
As the couple who had brought the police officers walked by our seats, the man stooped beside Brandon and said, “God intended our paths to cross this evening.” Brandon replied, “I’d love to hear your crazy story if you have a couple minutes.” The man’s wife up ahead started trying to explain, but people were waiting in the single file aisle and her words faded as she kept walking. We never got the chance to hear the story. But it didn’t matter. We all knew God was at work and had navigated impossible circumstances. He had made a way. When we came to closed doors, He had opened them. When He calls us to do His work, we do not walk alone. He walks on water with us. He goes in the fire with us. And He was at the airport with us and brought us safely home.
P. S. We had previously worried about a situation with our van. But by the time we landed, I told Brandon, “Don’t worry about the van. It will be there.” And it was.
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