The Denver International Airport is very big. Probably one of the biggest airports I have ever been to. My plane leaves at 6.45 PM, final destination, Salt Lake City, UT. I am currently sitting on a chair waiting at my gate for the time I am finally able to board. A lot of thoughts are crossing my mind, bad ones, and good ones, but nothing would make sense if I don't start from the beginning. So, I warn you, this post will be ridiculously long and if you're not fond of my writing, you might not want to keep reading. Consider yourself warned. Now, let's rewind, shall we?
I am Peruvian, meaning I was born in Peru, the best Spanish speaking country, and lived there until I was about 17 when I came to BYU. I was never really into applying for an undergraduate degree, I was thinking about just going to grad school here. My dad was the one who wanted me to come. I decided to apply when I heard two of the daughters of one of my dad's coworkers were both rejected. I started wondering if I, maybe, was good enough for them.
I was attending college in Peru, I had already finished my freshman year when BYU accepted me and even gave me a scholarship. I couldn't believe it. I didn't tell anyone about it because the hardest part was to get the visa, without a visa, it didn't matter if I had already gotten into BYU because the US wouldn't let me enter. It is incredibly hard to pass the interview with the embassy, they always try to see if the immigrants want the tourist visa or any other visa in order to stay in the US illegally.
My interview took place on February 13th, 2006. I had to wait around two or three hours in line before I got to talk to the agent. The girl before me was also trying to get her F-1 Student Visa. The guy started asking her why she wanted to come to the US, he was American, he asked her in English and she,... she replied in Spanish. The guy kept asking her questions in English and she kept answering in Spanish. After a little bit, he said her visa had been rejected.
It is sad to see people's hopes and dreams destroyed because of not getting the visa. Most of the time, they come out crying their eyes out, because they have nothing left in Peru and the only hope of a real future is in the States, and they can't go. That is the reality in third-world countries. Some people's only chance to be somebody is to come here.
The girl that was before me tried to talk to the representative, and talk him out of his decision. Unfortunately, their decision is always final. She left crying. And I was next, and I was scared. I was scared before but after seeing someone in the same situation as me getting rejected, I was freaked out. My dad said
"Tranquila. Todo va a estar bien" which is close to
"Peace. Be still. Everything will be fine" and I think he patted my shoulder, as we stepped up to the representative.
He looked at my papers and a little coldly said
"So, you want to go to BYU?" and I said yes, and I answered in English. I don't really remember all the details of our interview, I have it written down in one of my journals, but I can't recall it now. All I remember is the ending, when he said
"Good Luck. Study hard." as he put the blue stamp on my papers. I knew then that I had gotten it. The happiness that I felt in that moment I will never be able to describe. My dad and I couldn't help high-fiving each other in front of the guy, who smiled a little. When we left I remember my dad's words
"You're leaving". It didn't feel that real to me, it did to him. Two months later I was taking a plane to Utah.
*
One random day in the year 2008, I got an email. It was the International Services at BYU telling me that my passport would expire in October. I planned on going to the embassy in Denver, CO and renew it. I had everything ready, and me and my friends parted on April 24th, 2008. I was driving. I took 2 guys and 2 girls I thought were my friends back then, we'll call the two guys R and D, and the two girls, who were sisters, M and B. D and B were a couple. R was my best friend, or I thought he was, and he liked M. R was always trying to be close to M. D and B were always together. I felt left out. I was their chauffeur. Nobody cared about me.
A couple hours before we left, the battery in my car died. We had to get someone to jump it. And we drove away. A couple hours later I got a speeding ticket, for the amount of $86. I was very tired and couldn't keep driving. D and B were sleeping. R was goofing around with M. I was falling asleep. R's uncle and aunt were in his house in Colorado, the exact place I can't remember. Since I couldn't drive no more, we went to their house to spend the night. I told them all to wake up at 6 AM because Denver was still 5 hours away. I woke up at 6.30 AM and waited in the car because I hadn't slept in the house but in a little cabin next to the big house. Nobody came out. I went to look for them and they were all awake, slowly eating breakfast. I got mad. I had gone to Colorado with one purpose and one purpose only, to get my passport renewed. They saw me angry and hurried a little.
Once we were on the road, R started to flirt openly with M. D with B. And the chauffeur kept driving. And I hit something on the road. I got a flat tire and had to stop. R and D didn't know how to change a tire. Nobody did. We were screwed. I started crying. A worker guy came in his truck and changed the tire and saw the car was leaking oil. He said we couldn't keep driving and we needed to call a tow truck.
I was paying for everything on that road trip, gas, food, tow truck, everything. They never offered to help me at all. But I didn't mind, after all they were my "friends". The tow truck came and took us to some place, they said my car was screwed and they couldn't fix it without ordering new parts. My car needed to stay there, in some place called Glenwood Springs. Somehow I always knew that was the last time I was going to see my car. A part of me knew I was never going to get it back.
We had to take the train back to Provo, and guess who had to sit on her own. After that trip, our friendships broke off, forever. Not all of them, just theirs with mine. They are all still very good friends.
*
I went back to work with a story to tell. My hopes and dreams shattered. My trust in people broken. My faith in God weakened. And no friends. On May 13th, 2008, I met a guy named Michael at work. And for some reason I trusted him. And I started regaining my trust in people. A couple days after that, I started being friends with another kid named Mitch. And it went on with more guys. Only Americans though. I started talking a lot more to Americans. I trusted them. And I liked them. And they liked me for some reason. And I made friends. And I started to be happy again.
The mechanics in Glenwood Springs told me they could fix my car and asked me to send them money. I did. I sent $500. They said it would be ready on a Monday and I had everything set to go to Colorado and pick it up. That same day they called me and said my car's transmission was jacked up. They had said before that it was fine. Why was it suddenly messed up? They asked me for more money. I decided against it, and I had to give up my car. They asked me to send them the title. And I did. And I lost it.
*
Just when I was happy again, the managers of my job hired two people that don't like me and that were my friends before. I managed to deal with it fine. The Latinos at work have their own groups and they're all very good friends with each other. I am not really friends with them. I talk to some, but I'm not part of their group. I don't have a group. Unless you call the supervisor's desk my group.
*
Due to all the bad stuff in my life, I stopped being as active in Church as I was. I went to Sacrament Meeting and then I left. I stopped praying. I stopped reading the Scriptures. I stopped caring.
*
A while ago, I was diagnosed with a medical condition. And I stopped being happy again.
*
I never got to renew my passport since I never got to Denver. And the due date was coming up so quickly, I had to take care of it right away. I sent my papers to the wrong Peru consulate and they called me saying they needed to go to the consulate in Denver. My papers took a long time before they got back. I was worried. I started getting depressed and I couldn't handle anything. My faith was even weaker.
*
My papers arrived yesterday. I was happy when I left work. But then, as my last post said, I got a flat tire. Though I got friends to help me. After fixing my tire I bought a ticket to Denver for today. My dad didn't want me to send them in the mail.
*
And now we are in the point of the story that started today, I needed the background. You'll see why.
I woke up today at 3.30 AM. My sister was sitting next to the couch where I sleep. As soon as I opened my eyes, she gave me good news, Wells Fargo FINALLY updated my account and my money was showing up, up until yesterday I had no money in my account because all of the transactions read
"Pending".
I was ready to go. I took my backpack. And I drove to Salt Lake. I got there at 4.45 AM and waited for my flight. I took
"Jesus, the Christ" with me. I have been reading that book for a month, I haven't finished it yet. Everything was going perfectly.
I got to Denver at 7.08 AM. I was impressed with the airport. It is awesome. The internet sucked though. I couldn't connect for more than a couple minutes. Every person with PCs seemed to connect just fine. Was it my MAC? Anyway, I needed to go to the consulate and I didn't know anyone there, so I had to take a cab.
I had never taken a cab in the US, but I had heard they were very pricey. And it's true. I kept looking at the taximeter (sp?) every minute and it seemed like the price went up every second. 10; 10.25; 10.50... By the time we got to the consulate (nine-ish) I had to pay $63. It hurt me so bad. Anyway, I was there. I had arrived. I went to the suite where the consulate was located and I said I needed to renew my passport. They took me to some lady.
- The Consul is not here today. We can't do the renewal without him.
- What?
- You can come back tomorrow.
- I don't live here. I live in Utah. I'm going back there tonight.
- He's not here. You can leave your stuff here and then send a prepaid mail and we'll send them back.
- How am I going to go back to Utah without my passport? I can't leave them here.
- Then you'll have to mail them. The Consul is in the Denver Convention. You know? You should've called before coming. We close at 2 PM. Yesterday he came in at 3.30 PM and said he probably wouldn't be coming in today. I'm sorry. There's nothing we can do.
I left. As soon as I left the suite, I started crying, a lot. I was so frustrated. I remembered all the bad things that had happened to me the last months. My car, my friends, if I didn't get the papers done, I was totally screwed. I was just asking
"Why is everything going so wrong for me? Why is this all happening to me?" I had spent $296.99 on my plane ticket, $63 on a cab to get there, and I still needed to call one to take me to the airport, and I had gone all the way to Colorado for nothing. I kept crying and yelling "
Why God? Why are you letting this happen to me? Where are you? Why have you left me?" I called my mom and started crying to her. I told her God had forgotten me and she said that wasn't true and stuff. I was so focused on myself, all I could say was
"After this, do you think I'm going to want to go to church?" She told me I couldn't blame it on God, that it was my fault for not calling before and making sure the consul would be there. She told me to stay there. To stay until the last minute and wait. I didn't have to be at the airport until 6 PM anyway.
"He won't come. They just told me!" I said.
I wanted to swear. I wanted to scream and break everything. My mom kept trying to help but she couldn't. I was so mad I hung up on her. I didn't want to hear her testimony. I started doubting if God even cared about me. I went back to the office and asked the lady if I could stay and wait just in case. She said I could stay until 2 PM. They took pity on me because my eyes were so red, and my make up all ruined. They knew I had been crying. I sat down and got
"Jesus, the Christ" out of my backpack.
I felt bad for everything I had said about God not caring. And I prayed. I prayed like I've never prayed before. I told God that I was sorry I said all the things I had said. I asked him to bring the consul. After a while praying for the consul to come, I decided that was not what I wanted. And I said
"God, I know you could make him come if you wanted to. And if you want, bring him. Please, do your will. But if you do this for me, I promise you, I will dedicate the rest of my life to you and to serve you. But be it not as I want it, but as you do."You would imagine the consul came through the door after my prayer, but he didn't. The people at the consulate were getting calls and people were there and they told them all that the consul would not come. He had called or something. Yet, I stayed. And I started reading the book. I got to Chapter 20, and I read.
"The disciples were terror-stricken; yet through it all Jesus rested peacefully. In their extremity of fear, the disciples awakened Him, crying out, according to the several independent accounts "Master, Master, we perish"; "Lord, save us: we perish"; and "Master, carest thou not that we perish?" They were abjectly frightened, and at last partly forgetful that there was with them One whose voice even death had to obey. Their terrified appeal was not wholly devoid of hope nor barren of faith: "Lord, save us" they cried. Calmly He replied to their piteous call, "Why are ye fearful, O ye of little faith?"
And it hit me. It was me. I was that disciple that asked for the Lord to save me, but I did it without enough faith. I remembered Job and all he had to go through, yet he still had faith. And I thought about me, and how I couldn't keep going anymore. I was that disciple of little faith. And I started praying again. Trying to believe my words, and putting all the trust I got from who knows where into believing that God would free me. If not, then he was teaching me something. Maybe to be more prepared and call ahead. I stopped wanting the consul to come. I knew he wouldn't come. And instead of focusing on the problem at hand, I started focusing on how to get out of it.
"I still can send my papers from UT" I thought. But I didn't have anywhere to go so I just stayed in the consulate. I kept reading. And this little quote brought me peace. I was reading about the raising of the daughter of Jairus, and when they told Jairus that she was dead, and yet he kept asking Jesus to save her, the servants told him to stop troubling Jesus since she was already dead. Jesus looked at Jairus and said:
"Be not afraid; only believe."
It was like God was talking to me from the words of that book and I tried to believe. I got to the consulate at 9ish. I fell asleep on a chair. I woke up, I read a bit more. Even if the consul would never come, I had peace, and I knew there was something I needed to learn and I was ready. At 12.40 PM I was getting ready since I had to leave in an hour. I kept repeating the quote to myself, only believe, miracles happen, right? Then maybe I just needed to learn to trust a bit more even if nothing was going to happen. I mean, I was not as active as I used to be, my faith was fragile, how could I expect God to do something for me?
I saw a man coming out from an inside door, he was another worker. Then another man, and then he said
"Buenas Tardes" and kept going. The lady came out of her office and said:
"This is the consul. We can get your passport renewed now." Wait, what? Please, repeat. I am not sure if I heard right. Is that the consul? He came? He came? He really came? As he shook my hand, I couldn't help the tears falling out of my eyes. It was a miracle. It was my miracle. It was the Lord's way of telling me
"See, Nadia? I am here. I was always here. I never left you." Maybe I needed to learn to leave everything in the hands of the Lord. And maybe he wanted me to promise him I was going to change. The consul stayed for like 10 mins and then left. I felt so blessed.
This was my miracle. This was my road to Damascus. My personal road to Damascus. My proof that the Lord exists. And I know that it might be hard to believe, but my faith has gotten stronger, it is stronger than ever right now. The Lord never left me, he just wanted to try my faith, to see if I was going to do everything he asks of me. And I couldn't really pass the test, yet God has given me one more chance. He has brought upon me a miracle. How many people can say they've had miracles in their lives? Miracles as life-changing as mine? I am not saying you need a miracle to believe. Sometimes miracles are little things, like when I got my visa, and some other blessings that He can give you, but sometimes God shakes you a little and shows you He never leaves you. And that is just what He did for me.
I called my cab, and I had to pay $58.75, I got a guy from Nepal as my taxi driver and he was so different from the first guy who drove the cab. The Nepali didn't care about the speed limit, it was 45 and he was going 70. It's funny how customs change in between different cultures. He even got to 85 at one time, I think. Anyway.
I got to the airport and I went to the check in and for some reason they couldn't find my e-ticket. I would have freaked out, but my renewed faith didn't let me. I knew things would be fine. And I just said
"God, please help me" and they were able to find my ticket.
I waited there until my plane came, I boarded and now I am back in Provo. I am a new person. And I have felt something I never thought I'd feel. I have felt God's love at its fullest. And I wouldn't change what has happened to me. I am very happy I had that
"Jesus, the Christ" book with me. I love that book. I love it now and I will always relate it to my miracle.
I am very sure everything will work out now. God is with me. And I have promised to dedicate my life to him, and I will not break that promise. If you have any ideas on what I could do, please let me know. The Lord deserves to have my life, because he gave it to me. And I am ready to show him I am not the immature person I was.
At the end, it was true,
"Be not afraid, only believe" and things really will work out for the best.
*
These are some pics of my little trip. They look pretty good considering they were taken with a camera phone.
This is some kind of fountain in the airport. It looks sweet!
That is the building where the Consulate is.
The coat of Arms of Peru.
Another shot of the building.
My passport renewed.
The address of the consulate is 1001 South Monaco Pkwy. I thought I'd take a pic of the name.
Arriving to the Airport.
Beautiful American Flag.
I love escalators. I think they look cool.
My gate C40. Almost ready to board and return to Provo-town.
Me and my scary look.
The plane is pretty.
P.S. Exactly a year ago, today, was the last time I was in Peru.
