Andile could not contain himself. He was through the door before I realized the limousine was outside. The day was finally here. Make-A-Wish was sending him on a cruise! He would meet Mickey and Minnie and Donald and Goofy--in person! He couldn’t wait. Who would have imagined that, in a few days, my happy little boy would be taken from me and detained as an illegal immigrant.

From the airplane in Newark to the ship in Port Canaveral, everything went so smoothly. Once aboard, Andile picked over his food, although it had been hours since we had eaten. Finally, he ran to the kiddy pool and rides, stripping off shoes, socks and shirt. The water was cool in the thick, muggy Florida air. The Disney Dream ship had great accommodations. The sleeping quarters, food and entertainment were excellent. Andile had plenty of supervised activities so I could relax, knowing he was well cared for. This was an entirely child-friendly environment. He romped and roamed and had the time of his life.

We returned to the US a little browner, more relaxed and very contented. Andile wore an African cap with a visor, ready for the Florida sun. We stood before a customs booth, with completed form, declaring seven small souvenirs. The Customs and Border Protection Officer paused at the South African passport. He questioned me regarding the extended stay in the US. Andile’s US visa did not expire until 2022, but he had been in the States more than the 6 months stamped therein. I told the officer I did not realized there was a limited time he could remain in the country. He had been granted a ten year visa. Was it really an issue, since he was a child and I, his mother, was an American citizen? I began to pray.

An immigration officer came and interviewed me. He decided Andile’s visa was not an issue. However, the first officer questioned me a second time. He asked about my role as a missionary, my financial resources, the funding of the cruise and, subsequently, how Andile qualified for Make-A-Wish. I tried to be as transparent as possible and shared the confidential medical information. He became very agitated, suggesting we had put him at risk by not giving him that information from the start. He left, apparently to consult with his superiors.

The same officer interrogated us again, this time focusing on Andile’s adoption papers. On previous international trips, no one had asked for adoption papers. This time I had inadvertently left them in NJ. Make-A-Wish, the school and the pediatric clinic all had copies--but were closed for the Thanksgiving weekend. The friend who had been hosting us in NJ over the past year was traveling with us. So I contacted her elderly father who lived next door. It took several hours for him to find my original documents in our crowded little room, even as I directed him by phone. It would take at least another hour for him to find someone to fax the documents to Florida.

Meanwhile, the officer summonsed two local policemen to the room where we had been detained for more than 8 hours. He informed me he was taking custody of Andile since I could not prove I was his mother. He would send my son to a detention facility, south of Miami, three hours away. I asked about the faxed adoption papers. He said he had not received them. He began reading Andile his rights. My phone kept ringing and he paused with each interruption. My friend’s father called to assure me the documents had been faxed. I turned to a female officer and asked her to check the fax machine while the first officer continued reading the rights. A few minutes later, she returned with the faxed copies. The interrogating officer refused to accept the adoption papers, questioning their authenticity. He told me I could take them to immigration court and prove to them I was the mother.

I looked at Andile. He had remained calm, but was now beginning to cry, hearing my voice quiver. I prayed with him and whispered in his ear. I reminded him of the Source of our strength. God was with him although I would not be. I promised not to leave Florida without him. Yes, all of this was frightening, but we would get through it. I hugged him and kissed him hard. Andile was placed in a government SUV and driven away. He was later transferred to another law enforcement vehicle and put in the back cage, separated from two male drivers in front. He cried all the way to the detention center--and for every night he would spend there.

The local policemen gave me a ride to a nearby restaurant, since the port had closed and we were an hour from the airport. The senior officer commented, “You must be a woman of strong faith. I saw you speaking with your son and then he pointed up. Were you telling him about God?” I responded in the affirmative. “How do you remain so calm? I don’t know what I would do if someone took away my child.” I explained to him that I was not calm and it was only the Holy Spirit who was giving me control. How would ‘going off,’ I continued, help my son cope or help our situation--especially with policemen present, as if drama was expected...

Settling down in a corner of the restaurant, I began calling and e-mailing everyone I could think of. A fellow missionary from Fort Lauderdale sent someone to get me. The intercessor and the chaplain from my Missionary Partnership Team kept me lifted up in prayer. I contacted friends and family who worked for Homeland Security or the FBI or practiced law. I sent texts to friends in Johannesburg and around the country asking for prayer. Days later, I called Dr. Frances Manning-Fontaine, a pastor in my Missionary Partnership Network. On my behalf, she reached out to her personal acquaintances, a congressman and a senator, both from NJ. The Make-A-Wish director followed up with them, and things happened.

Four anguishing nights and 5 stressful days later, Andile was released into my custody. I had driven 2 hours each day to visit him. I was not required to provide additional documentation regarding guardianship. There were no fines for Andile overstaying the visa. We did not have to appear in court. Andile’s passport was returned to us, personally, by the same agency that confiscated it. Finally, we left for New Jersey one day after his release, escorted by Homeland Security officers through the Fort Lauderdale Airport in case there might be additional problems.

I can’t stop wondering, what was accomplished by separating a child from his mother to send to a “detention center for unaccompanied alien minors?” And then releasing him to the same adult who claimed to be his mother from the start? What was the purpose of detaining a 9-year-old in a facility with teenagers and then segregating him in a dark, cold room each night? And why was he taken to a local hospital where blood work was done and injections given without parental consent? (To this day, they have not responded to my requests for those medical records!) For the weeks that followed, I have asked these questions and tried to hear what God could possibly teach me from all of this.

Several years ago, I read Bernard T. Adeney’s Strange Virtues: Ethics in a Multicultural World (InterVarsity Press, 1995). At the time I was serving in South Africa, and struggled with some of the author’s perceptions about what was right and wrong in a foreign context. I had found it particularly difficult to digest the discussion on bribery. I was reminded of my discomfort when pastors, with whom I served, joked about including funds for bribes in their ministry budgets. They anticipated border post shakedowns whether making a mission trip to Swaziland, Mozambique or Zimbabwe. Personally, I wondered about the role of faith, or the need to confront spiritual warfare. Yet, time and again, Christians from South Africa and other countries remind me how easy it is to insist on playing by the rules when you are an international guest, coming from one of the most influential powers in the world. So often our USA passports give us clout. Seldom are we forced to bow in the face of foreign corruption or deal with oppressive consequences on our own.

Even when a South African-born worker from my son’s orphanage had been illegally detained, I still didn’t understand. Why hadn’t she called me? I knew someone who worked for the South African police. They would have gotten her out. Why did she pay the bribe? Even when she told them she was a citizen, not a foreigner, they detained her. As I responded to the Customs and Border Protection officer‘s threats, I was reminded of her. “I’m an American citizen, you can‘t talk to me like that!”

Today when I look back on what should have been a dream vacation, all I remember is the nightmare. In hindsight I wonder, did I miss the whole point? On the few occasions I encountered corrupt Johannesburg police, unless asked outright, I struggled to discern when they wanted a bribe. Was all of this in Florida really about an overstayed visa, a communicable disease or even adoption papers? I’ve been told they have to deal with too many illegal alien minors on their borders. But what did that have to do with us? The officer had asked questions about my finances along with questions about my son‘s health and adoption. What did he really want? If I had offered him the $190 in my pocket, would my son have remained safely in my care, avoided the fear, trauma and wondering what in the world was happening? On the other hand, could I consider myself a woman of faith, and be okay with that? Paying a bribe may have been easier, yet living for God often costs more.

As we struggles with the usual--and unusual--stresses of being missionaries on furlough, be reminded how dependent we are on your prayers. Intercession is a must as we maneuver spiritual minefields in our daily walk. Please consider pledging monthly support so we may raise 100% of the funds required for our living costs, our administrative fees with International Ministries as well as donations for our mission partners in South Africa. Then we can return to service on the field. We need your help!