It was April of 2009. My sister, Jelena and her fiance Steve were finishing up the last touches to get their wedding organized which was to take place in June that year. The dress was bought, venues booked and it was wedding prep time in full swing. My sister planned bridesmaid lunches and bought gifts for everyone, took photos and began organizing everything for her big day. She even moved out of the home she and Steve purchased and lived in an apartment in order to make their marriage more special once the wedding happened.
One not very particular day, Steve received an abrupt knock on the door and a swat team of at least seven guys dressed to combat a terrorist attack came to his home. My sister who was living in the apartment, was getting ready and on her way to work during this time. The officers told Steve that they were looking for a missing girl and think Jelena knows her and could help, so they needed to find her. Steve told them she did not live there and was probably on her way to work, then complied and gave them the address to her company. He called my sister and told her about this strange incident, and I think she had an idea of who it was. It has been her terror and source for nightmares and fear all these years. "They were coming to get us!"
She pulled into her parking lot at work nevertheless, and out came the van with the swat team apprehending her and knocking her down, then shoving her in the van. All this while her coworkers stood by and watched. She was dressed in a business suit for her marketing job, and treated as a criminal. She called me before then and I talked to her briefly, half scared and half trying to comfort her that it's probably nothing. Our fears that our dad had been worrying about all these years were coming to pass.
Jelena was taken to an ICE (Immigration and Custom Enforcement) holding facility where she was kept all day as they went through paperwork. She still remembers how freezing cold that cell was and how scared she was not knowing her fate and not being communicated with. She was later transported to the Rolling Plains Regional Jail and Detention Center in Haskell, TX, about a four hour drive west. I hope she writes a blog describing her experience, and explains in detail her time there. There are so many stories she told of countless women taken from their babies, families and homes, waiting, but without hope, for a miracle.
During this time, she called Steve and we found out what had happened. I called Dan who was working temporarily in Galveston with a friend, repairing the town from hurricane Ike. He advised me to go to his mom's and bring the kids. At this point, I had to flee or fight. I chose to fight. My sister was the most important friend in my life next to Dan, and I also still felt a need to protect her. I packed up the kids quickly and drove to my in-law's home. Dan and I could not imagine having our kids apprehended and taken from me by some agency. I sat with Dan's mom and proceeded to tell her as best as I could and in as short time as I could about our situation. She could not believe her ears, but offered to help in any way. I kissed my kiddos, knowing it could have been for the last time for a long time, and left. I left crying but quickly changed my mind to think positively and put on mental fight gear. It was time to settle this once and for all.
Much opposition and many temptations arose from a million different angles during this time. I had to fight to keep my sanity about me and invite the peace I knew was mine. I talked to Steve and we met to discuss what we would do next. We thought about going to Gateway Church - which was their home church at this time, and seeing if the pastors could help in any way. I called the pastors at the church we were attending, The Met Church. We called our lawyer and told him, at which he was appalled and gave names to some fellow immigration lawyers in town. I spoke to many people that day, and many lawyers, until we came to one who would see us shortly. Dan was worried that I would be picked up as well, but no one came to my home. I even asked Steve to bring me some of Jelena's clothes so I did not have to return home yet, so I can change in the bathroom of the burger place we went to. I had left early that morning in my stretchy house pants and shirt I slept in.
I even asked Steve to go home and get my book I had written which I was told the proceeds of would all go to Gateway Church. I wanted to show it to the pastor in hopes he would listen and hear our story. Now I am glad his secretary would not let me in to see him - she probably thought I was nuts! Also, now that I think about it, I have no idea what I really thought the pastors could actually do for us, but at that time I was desperate for any help. Pastor Spurling from Gateway listened to us and offered to drive up to Haskell on my sister's behalf. Matt Oxley from the Met Church also offered to drive up there and speak to Jelena. The lawyer we spoke with asked for some cash to start the process, and my mom and George paid it. This lawyer stayed with us during the urgent time with my sister, and told us that he believed a background check my sister had filled out at church in order to work with the youth is what triggered the authorities since we were now listed as fugitives. He released her case shortly after and our lawyer from Austin who helped my mom, Mr. Smith, took over. It was all happening so fast.
The secret was no longer a secret. People began to find out and our phone lines were flooded with phone calls from friends and family from all over the place. It was remarkable how everyone came together to help! It was as if many people were just waiting for something to fight for and a cause to uphold.
My sister worked with Dan and also Kim, my sister in-law, so most of the employees at the company knew us. At once, the team began to come together on our behalf. My sister's current place of business also stepped in with VP's and CEO's donating and trying to help in any way. What we wanted to keep on the down-low, now everyone we knew was finding out. What once kept us in bondage was now loosening its grip as more and more people found out about it. One shocking truth was revealed: everyone was on our side! The lies that people would hate us, and shun us, and treat us bad was just that - a big, fat, lie. ALL of our friends, family, their friends and family, and even people who just found out somehow sympathized with us. I could not believe it, but the support and overwhelming encouragement was enough to fuel my desire to get my sister out ASAP!
My sister in law, Kim, came over and we began to strategize. She had not known either, so I filled her in too... Steve set up a Facebook page called "Free Jelena" and we began to post it to our own pages. This was a HUGE step for me, because I have friends on Facebook I have known since grade school, also many people I had worked with at many different establishments, and to now come out and say that I am an illegal alien was embarrassing. I had to do it though, and I knew it. People called and gave ideas about lawyers and going to the news. Steve called his neighbor who works for a news channel and we contacted some other stations but we were told that in situations like these it is actually harmful to get the story in the spotlight. We were told that it would hurt her as they will most certainly deport her. So we stayed away from the media, and went through social networks. We were on Twitter and Facebook setting up links, and Kim was getting a hold of people she knew that could help. We were letting Dan know what was happening, and that I and the kids were safe. We did not want to keep asking mom and George to pay for stuff, and I had like thirty bucks until Dan came home. Steve had just gotten laid off as well, and we had no idea what to do. He did not know how they would pay their bills and house and car payments and also have time to try to help my sister. We set up a Paypal account on Jelena's Facebook page and within the week donations were pouring in from everywhere! Including my mom and George's help, we raised enough money to pay for the lawyer, all of their bills and payments and for Steve to have for food and stuff so he does not worry about his job situation. It was so amazing to see how our friends and family pulled together and helped us!!! I began to see just how much I loved people!
Monday, March 28, 2011
The Prophecy
And so it came to pass... my mom got her Green Card! It was so amazing and we were so thankful! To share some of her story as best as I can:
After exhausting as many lawyer offices as she could find only to be told there is no way your case will be heard in court, or to be asked to pay an astronomical amount of money, my mom gave up searching for ways to get her green card. But as in all good stories, a man came along and they fell in love. George wanted to make sure my mom received her green card and they began searching for lawyers again, but this time my mom had more hope. This added hope did not last long as George and my mom were also told time after time from countless lawyers in the Austin area that her case is too complicated and they could not work on it. There were again a few lawyers who wanted a large sum of money up front with little indication they would actually get anything accomplished. George and my mom faced defeat but then George remembered a pen. Yes - a pen.
An immigration lawyer had come by his restaurant some time earlier and he left behind a pen which George had picked up. George called the number on this pen and what do you know - Mr. G. Wellington Smith said her case may be difficult but not impossible and he would take it on, without ever asking for any money up front. That was a huge break!
Within two years of Mr. Smith working with my mom, she received her green card. There was a lot of paperwork involved and meetings too, the usual, but she and George completed it all on time, and followed through. We celebrated at Cheesecake Factory, took pictures, and had fun with it. My mom's card actually came in the mail as a new driver's license, a very non-climactic end to her story.
Following, Dan and I decided to begin working with Mr. Smith in order for me to get the green card as well. We used a portion of our income tax return to begin this process in 2008 and my mom and George paid the rest of the fees. Without their help, we could not have done it. Dan and I were facing the hardest time of our lives financially. I was at home with the kids, and Dan out of work since he had undergone a company-wide layoff in 2008. Our life had begun to change and we began to experience some extremely serious marital strife because of finances or lack thereof.
My sister Jelena, and her fiance, Steven, would begin work on hers as soon after they got married in 2009. My sister was smart and told him about it from the get-go. Jelena had a good job, Steven was doing well for himself as well, and their future seemed very promising. They were anticipating marriage and children.
Overall, everything seemed as it were falling into place as far as immigration was concerned, so we went about life as usual, having to make an occasional copy and fax, fill out forms and send photos and such.
After exhausting as many lawyer offices as she could find only to be told there is no way your case will be heard in court, or to be asked to pay an astronomical amount of money, my mom gave up searching for ways to get her green card. But as in all good stories, a man came along and they fell in love. George wanted to make sure my mom received her green card and they began searching for lawyers again, but this time my mom had more hope. This added hope did not last long as George and my mom were also told time after time from countless lawyers in the Austin area that her case is too complicated and they could not work on it. There were again a few lawyers who wanted a large sum of money up front with little indication they would actually get anything accomplished. George and my mom faced defeat but then George remembered a pen. Yes - a pen.
An immigration lawyer had come by his restaurant some time earlier and he left behind a pen which George had picked up. George called the number on this pen and what do you know - Mr. G. Wellington Smith said her case may be difficult but not impossible and he would take it on, without ever asking for any money up front. That was a huge break!
Within two years of Mr. Smith working with my mom, she received her green card. There was a lot of paperwork involved and meetings too, the usual, but she and George completed it all on time, and followed through. We celebrated at Cheesecake Factory, took pictures, and had fun with it. My mom's card actually came in the mail as a new driver's license, a very non-climactic end to her story.
Following, Dan and I decided to begin working with Mr. Smith in order for me to get the green card as well. We used a portion of our income tax return to begin this process in 2008 and my mom and George paid the rest of the fees. Without their help, we could not have done it. Dan and I were facing the hardest time of our lives financially. I was at home with the kids, and Dan out of work since he had undergone a company-wide layoff in 2008. Our life had begun to change and we began to experience some extremely serious marital strife because of finances or lack thereof.
My sister Jelena, and her fiance, Steven, would begin work on hers as soon after they got married in 2009. My sister was smart and told him about it from the get-go. Jelena had a good job, Steven was doing well for himself as well, and their future seemed very promising. They were anticipating marriage and children.
Overall, everything seemed as it were falling into place as far as immigration was concerned, so we went about life as usual, having to make an occasional copy and fax, fill out forms and send photos and such.
The In-Between Years
Many years passed and my life had been "normal" as I had mentioned before. Although I could not leave the country, Daniel and I took many trips within the US and managed to have fun. I had buried the immigration stuff and hoped it would never appear. My sister and I secretly applied for the Green Card Lottery one year, but did not win. I did not tell Dan about any of this still. My dad would mail us forms to sign from time to time, which we did and sent back. He advised us to keep going to the office in San Antonio and get our work authorization cards, but I was so fed up with all of this, and wanted nothing to do with it. I did not want to think about it nor hash it up again. I mean I buried the problem right? Too bad things do not go away when you just try to forget about them. At one time or another, everything comes out in the open - either by us bringing them up and working on the issue, or having to face it at the most inopportune times. I would chose the former if I had to do it again.
In 2003, Daniel and I experienced God in a way I wish for everyone. I have not been the same since. My life has been a roller coaster ride that I would need a volume of books to explain with. Daniel worked for a direct marketing company and I was an associate selling the nutritional products. During an international event in 2004, a strange man from Korea named Dan Hahn came up to me as I was sitting outside of the Dallas Convention Center. He explained to me that he is prophet of God and begun to tell me some remarkable things that would occur in my life. He mentioned things I never said to anyone, including my favorite verse in the Bible : Matthew 6:33. He brought up the green card. He told me that things would end in this department and within 3 years my family would get a green card. My mom did, in 2007. At the time though, I was like - okay, whatever. I did not care about that. But something stirred in me when he brought it up. Like - how dare he? It was personal and hidden. I liked it that way. I got some old familiar negative feelings back, feelings of discomfort and rejection. I knew he had no way of knowing this other than the fact that God actually revealed it to him. So because of this, I knew it was time to bring it up again. I thought about it, and felt maybe we would just get it in the mail and it would be a discrete ordeal. YAH!
Shortly after, I was reading a book by T. D. Jakes called "Woman Thou Art Loosed," which I grabbed from my mom's library, just because I knew he was a Christian preacher. The book was mainly about freeing women from the spirit of abuse, focusing specifically on different abusive situations women go through, and helping to get the shame off and deal with the hurts. As I read that book, everything pointed to my situation of immigration. Everything I read correlated to my situation and although the subjects are very different, the underlying message was the same. It was a false message actually:
"Because this happened to you (abuse, neglect, trauma from someone behaving in an evil way against you or in my situation - my parents brought me over and now the government saw me as a fugitive for nothing I did) you are different in the worst way, shame on you, you do not belong, you are not like the others. You are unwanted, we don't want the likes of you in our neighborhoods, or anywhere in this country. Go hide! Go back home! You are as a leper. Don't tell anyone your secret. No one will want to be your friend. No one wants the likes of you around." ETC...
The idea of telling Dan and dealing with my shame before him was more than I could bear but it would not leave me alone. It was such a strong pulsing tremor in my head - for me to tell Daniel about my situation. After weeks of trying to fight the overwhelming urge to come out clean, I finally spit it out on a drive back home form Austin. It was night-time, and the kids were a sleep int he car. I remember how long it took me to get it out. I cried uncontrollably and Dan was wondering what in the world it could be. It was not adultery as I told him, so he hadn't a clue. It was like a feeling of nausea and every discomfort imaginable - but why?
Why did I believe a lie that I was at fault and this was such a shameful thing is beyond me now. How could I allow such a huge stone in my heart that has kept me down for so many years? Why did something someone else did cause me to feel shame and keep it a secret as it were my fault? Why did I allow the media, the government or other people who spoke about similar situations to make me feel unwanted and untouchable?
After I told Dan, he simply said, okay, and I looked at him like - really? That's it? He understood that it hurt me and I obviously felt a release when I told him about it, but he did not understand why. He wanted to know why I did not tell him earlier and I explained that I could not bear to have him hate me for it and treat me different. Then I felt bad for not trusting him enough. Overall, it was a HUGE step for me, and afterward, such weight lifted off of me that I could breathe like I could not remember when.
Now that Dan knew, I told him that we would have to get a lawyer to take care of my situation, but since we were not in a good financial standing, it did not matter to me. We needed money for bills and other things, so we both placed it on the back burner this time. We did not mess with the idea, and lived as we have been.
I had gotten a part-time job at our church at that time, but did not tell anyone about my situation. I used my social security number, my driver's license, as in the past, but I felt so convicted this time. Although I considered myself a citizen, and certainly a Texas Resident, I blocked out the fact that I needed paperwork to substantiate this. It was an area I avoided, and I took on the oblivious attitude regarding this. But the nagging feeling of "I must say something or quit," continued. At the time, I took on the responsibility of trying to homeschool my kids, so I quit the job at church and my feelings changed. Again, things seeemed to be leveled out and my secret buried again. I was relieved that I had a reason now to stay at home and did not have to look for work and pretend I was legal. Although we could have defintely benefited from the extra money from me working, I beleive the times I spent at home with the kids were the best opportunity I ever got. In all things, God works everything for my good.
In 2003, Daniel and I experienced God in a way I wish for everyone. I have not been the same since. My life has been a roller coaster ride that I would need a volume of books to explain with. Daniel worked for a direct marketing company and I was an associate selling the nutritional products. During an international event in 2004, a strange man from Korea named Dan Hahn came up to me as I was sitting outside of the Dallas Convention Center. He explained to me that he is prophet of God and begun to tell me some remarkable things that would occur in my life. He mentioned things I never said to anyone, including my favorite verse in the Bible : Matthew 6:33. He brought up the green card. He told me that things would end in this department and within 3 years my family would get a green card. My mom did, in 2007. At the time though, I was like - okay, whatever. I did not care about that. But something stirred in me when he brought it up. Like - how dare he? It was personal and hidden. I liked it that way. I got some old familiar negative feelings back, feelings of discomfort and rejection. I knew he had no way of knowing this other than the fact that God actually revealed it to him. So because of this, I knew it was time to bring it up again. I thought about it, and felt maybe we would just get it in the mail and it would be a discrete ordeal. YAH!
Shortly after, I was reading a book by T. D. Jakes called "Woman Thou Art Loosed," which I grabbed from my mom's library, just because I knew he was a Christian preacher. The book was mainly about freeing women from the spirit of abuse, focusing specifically on different abusive situations women go through, and helping to get the shame off and deal with the hurts. As I read that book, everything pointed to my situation of immigration. Everything I read correlated to my situation and although the subjects are very different, the underlying message was the same. It was a false message actually:
"Because this happened to you (abuse, neglect, trauma from someone behaving in an evil way against you or in my situation - my parents brought me over and now the government saw me as a fugitive for nothing I did) you are different in the worst way, shame on you, you do not belong, you are not like the others. You are unwanted, we don't want the likes of you in our neighborhoods, or anywhere in this country. Go hide! Go back home! You are as a leper. Don't tell anyone your secret. No one will want to be your friend. No one wants the likes of you around." ETC...
The idea of telling Dan and dealing with my shame before him was more than I could bear but it would not leave me alone. It was such a strong pulsing tremor in my head - for me to tell Daniel about my situation. After weeks of trying to fight the overwhelming urge to come out clean, I finally spit it out on a drive back home form Austin. It was night-time, and the kids were a sleep int he car. I remember how long it took me to get it out. I cried uncontrollably and Dan was wondering what in the world it could be. It was not adultery as I told him, so he hadn't a clue. It was like a feeling of nausea and every discomfort imaginable - but why?
Why did I believe a lie that I was at fault and this was such a shameful thing is beyond me now. How could I allow such a huge stone in my heart that has kept me down for so many years? Why did something someone else did cause me to feel shame and keep it a secret as it were my fault? Why did I allow the media, the government or other people who spoke about similar situations to make me feel unwanted and untouchable?
After I told Dan, he simply said, okay, and I looked at him like - really? That's it? He understood that it hurt me and I obviously felt a release when I told him about it, but he did not understand why. He wanted to know why I did not tell him earlier and I explained that I could not bear to have him hate me for it and treat me different. Then I felt bad for not trusting him enough. Overall, it was a HUGE step for me, and afterward, such weight lifted off of me that I could breathe like I could not remember when.
Now that Dan knew, I told him that we would have to get a lawyer to take care of my situation, but since we were not in a good financial standing, it did not matter to me. We needed money for bills and other things, so we both placed it on the back burner this time. We did not mess with the idea, and lived as we have been.
I had gotten a part-time job at our church at that time, but did not tell anyone about my situation. I used my social security number, my driver's license, as in the past, but I felt so convicted this time. Although I considered myself a citizen, and certainly a Texas Resident, I blocked out the fact that I needed paperwork to substantiate this. It was an area I avoided, and I took on the oblivious attitude regarding this. But the nagging feeling of "I must say something or quit," continued. At the time, I took on the responsibility of trying to homeschool my kids, so I quit the job at church and my feelings changed. Again, things seeemed to be leveled out and my secret buried again. I was relieved that I had a reason now to stay at home and did not have to look for work and pretend I was legal. Although we could have defintely benefited from the extra money from me working, I beleive the times I spent at home with the kids were the best opportunity I ever got. In all things, God works everything for my good.
Thursday, March 3, 2011
The San Antonio Trips
I think the biggest stress causing ordeal award goes to our multiple trips to the immigration office in San Antonio. While young, we had no idea why this was such a big deal, but knew it had something to do with staying here. We would all load up from Austin after dad spent like two weeks preparing paperwork, stressing to the point no one dared come near him. We would get up early and get all dressed up and take what seemed to be a very, very long drive to San Antonio. My parents fought a lot during the drive and my sister and I tried to think positive. If things went well, as my sister remembers correctly, we went out to eat after the meeting: Olive Garden on the Riverwalk. But, if they denied us again or whatever negative conclusion occurred, a horrible and immediate drive home followed. And my dad was so angry that as a child I wanted to do something to make it better. I wanted to fix the relationship between he and my mom. I wanted to protect my sister. I was angry at America for making my family sad. I hated whatever "immigration" was because it made my dad so angry. I made inner vows and judgments then that I would be strong for everyone.
I hated talking about San Antonio. San Antonio was the headquarters for immigration, a place where the rejection was set in stone and written in some legal paperwork. Even at school in Texas History when the town was mentioned it made me cringe. It held awful memories for me and my family. When I visited with Dan, I tried so hard to mask my feelings, and I bet we probably fought every time. I remember at least that I drank myself to oblivion once while there, probably trying to escape the pain subconsciously.
I cannot seem to stress enough how bazaar this is on the mind of a young child. Imagine your kids, if you have any, between 6 and 14 and trying to explain to them the judicial system, how the immigration process works and what that all means. I don't think the immigration employees even know! The bottom line that is taken is that we started to believe lies about ourselves. We thought we did something wrong; we could not understand how someone could tell you that you cannot live somewhere. Are we not all people on this only one planet with life on it? Should we not stick together? Can't we live wherever we find room? Why can someone tell you that you have to leave if you want to stay? If nothing criminal and illegal was done - why do they want me to leave? What if I did good and volunteered and did things right? Could I stay? No.
Then I will do the opposite. If they treat me like a criminal and unworthy, maybe I can just misbehave a little...
I hated talking about San Antonio. San Antonio was the headquarters for immigration, a place where the rejection was set in stone and written in some legal paperwork. Even at school in Texas History when the town was mentioned it made me cringe. It held awful memories for me and my family. When I visited with Dan, I tried so hard to mask my feelings, and I bet we probably fought every time. I remember at least that I drank myself to oblivion once while there, probably trying to escape the pain subconsciously.
I cannot seem to stress enough how bazaar this is on the mind of a young child. Imagine your kids, if you have any, between 6 and 14 and trying to explain to them the judicial system, how the immigration process works and what that all means. I don't think the immigration employees even know! The bottom line that is taken is that we started to believe lies about ourselves. We thought we did something wrong; we could not understand how someone could tell you that you cannot live somewhere. Are we not all people on this only one planet with life on it? Should we not stick together? Can't we live wherever we find room? Why can someone tell you that you have to leave if you want to stay? If nothing criminal and illegal was done - why do they want me to leave? What if I did good and volunteered and did things right? Could I stay? No.
Then I will do the opposite. If they treat me like a criminal and unworthy, maybe I can just misbehave a little...
Married Life in the US
As I grew up as American as possible, I learned how to live and get by with who I was. My parent's separated, then divorced, which fit the profile of most of my friends. I got a job early and started paying for the things I wanted. I had lots of boyfriends and adapted to the party lifestyle early on. The best thing that happened was that I met my husband. At none other than K-Mart, Daniel and I sparked a connection and bond I have never witnessed with any other couple. We are truly soul mates.
In 1990 we began dating, and have not stopped since. Daniel loved me most yet cared the least about my immigration status. I felt safe around him and knew he would protect me. He and his family are so proud to be Americans that I never had the nerve to share my history with them. They thought I was legal since I had a social security number, driver's license, and did everything according to the rules. I just never pursued my residency. I never even told Dan before we got married. I was so done with it all and wanted to forget about it and go on with my life.
The last time I spent a day at the immigration office was in the nineties sometime. My mom took my sister and I and we went to see if we could somehow reopen our case and get somewhere. Until now, my dad has fought on his own and been denied over and over that at best we were granted work authorization cards. He never took a lawyer, and trying to accomplish anything concerning immigration without legal council is almost impossible. While in the San Antonio office that day, an officer told me that the only way for me to stay here is to get my husband to petition for me. My case would be separated from my family and I would face the new challenges on my own (with Daniel really, but I was embarrassed to tell him). I was scared to tell Dan and get him involved in all of this mess and at the same time worried what would happen to my family. It seemed like I would get to stay but they would get deported, and I figured we are all in this together. Plus, I was lazy to work on my status and angry at my parents who did not finish it for us. I felt like it was not my responsibility and wanted to wait it out to see what happens, to make them somehow pay for bringing us here like this. Much resentment and anger towards our parents fueled my attitude of indifference.
The officer told us that day to just live as we have been living, and go on with life as we have. So, with nothing solved and not being any further to a resolve, the three Mitic ladies left the San Antonio office that day hopeless. There was such a stronghold on me involving anyone else and our immigration "secret." I had to protect us by not telling anyone about our situation, that it was like Gollum's "my precious." A dark, dark secret - except - when I look back now after having daughters of my own as my sis and I were, - I just want to hold me. This secret was shame, resentment, insecurity, and all the nasty things we place on ourselves when most circumstances were far beyond our control. I see this now a lot with women who have been abused as children, teens, or even adults. They hold a secret and have shame for something someone else did and created in their lives. I felt if I told anyone (EVEN my own husband who I know loves me beyond a shadow of a doubt) they would shame me even more, ridicule me, not like me, think less of me, pity me, and the worst: make fun of me.
Daniel and I have shared a most bizarre and wonderful life together. We live to give and love people. We speak to our family daily and see them often. We adore our friends that have crossed our paths, and our times together. We have enjoyed the most sacred moments together and have three beautiful, beautiful children which I cannot begin to comprehend why we were blessed with them. Just because. Grace.
From days of Hair bands, goth, grunge and garage band days, to days of leading worship in church, Daniel and I have witnessed a lot happen within our lives. We have been honest with each other and gone through the biggest break-up dilemmas and came out on the other end victorious. From jobs to debt, from fun trips to ugly fights, from raising kids to gaining weight - our life has been what most people may look upon as "normal."
Immigration, green cards, citizenship and passports - bah! What's that? I have managed to create an American life for me and my new family. But that is not how the story was written...
In 1990 we began dating, and have not stopped since. Daniel loved me most yet cared the least about my immigration status. I felt safe around him and knew he would protect me. He and his family are so proud to be Americans that I never had the nerve to share my history with them. They thought I was legal since I had a social security number, driver's license, and did everything according to the rules. I just never pursued my residency. I never even told Dan before we got married. I was so done with it all and wanted to forget about it and go on with my life.
The last time I spent a day at the immigration office was in the nineties sometime. My mom took my sister and I and we went to see if we could somehow reopen our case and get somewhere. Until now, my dad has fought on his own and been denied over and over that at best we were granted work authorization cards. He never took a lawyer, and trying to accomplish anything concerning immigration without legal council is almost impossible. While in the San Antonio office that day, an officer told me that the only way for me to stay here is to get my husband to petition for me. My case would be separated from my family and I would face the new challenges on my own (with Daniel really, but I was embarrassed to tell him). I was scared to tell Dan and get him involved in all of this mess and at the same time worried what would happen to my family. It seemed like I would get to stay but they would get deported, and I figured we are all in this together. Plus, I was lazy to work on my status and angry at my parents who did not finish it for us. I felt like it was not my responsibility and wanted to wait it out to see what happens, to make them somehow pay for bringing us here like this. Much resentment and anger towards our parents fueled my attitude of indifference.
The officer told us that day to just live as we have been living, and go on with life as we have. So, with nothing solved and not being any further to a resolve, the three Mitic ladies left the San Antonio office that day hopeless. There was such a stronghold on me involving anyone else and our immigration "secret." I had to protect us by not telling anyone about our situation, that it was like Gollum's "my precious." A dark, dark secret - except - when I look back now after having daughters of my own as my sis and I were, - I just want to hold me. This secret was shame, resentment, insecurity, and all the nasty things we place on ourselves when most circumstances were far beyond our control. I see this now a lot with women who have been abused as children, teens, or even adults. They hold a secret and have shame for something someone else did and created in their lives. I felt if I told anyone (EVEN my own husband who I know loves me beyond a shadow of a doubt) they would shame me even more, ridicule me, not like me, think less of me, pity me, and the worst: make fun of me.
Daniel and I have shared a most bizarre and wonderful life together. We live to give and love people. We speak to our family daily and see them often. We adore our friends that have crossed our paths, and our times together. We have enjoyed the most sacred moments together and have three beautiful, beautiful children which I cannot begin to comprehend why we were blessed with them. Just because. Grace.
From days of Hair bands, goth, grunge and garage band days, to days of leading worship in church, Daniel and I have witnessed a lot happen within our lives. We have been honest with each other and gone through the biggest break-up dilemmas and came out on the other end victorious. From jobs to debt, from fun trips to ugly fights, from raising kids to gaining weight - our life has been what most people may look upon as "normal."
Immigration, green cards, citizenship and passports - bah! What's that? I have managed to create an American life for me and my new family. But that is not how the story was written...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)