And the day arrived for our interview - December 3, 2011. It's been a while since the public rush to "Keep Oli and Jelena in the US," and it has been quiet. We went on about our business, left our home on the market (but it did not sell - so we're still here) and planned to get the girls back in public school. I think I just had enough of business, and needed rest. But, we prepared for this day for many years it seemed, and it was finally here.
We put together a binder of all documents needed, photos, letters many wrote on our behalf, copies of bills, tax records, and many other things necessary. Our lawyer and his son showed up, along with the news teams to show evidence of our approval. We went into the Immigration Office in Irving, TX and after a short interview we were granted permission to live here for ten years with our permanent residency, with hope to apply for citizenship in three years!!!!! It was nerve-wrecking at first, (I think my sister bit all of her nails and hair ends off) but it was awesome to spend the day with our husbands and our lawyer who worked so hard on our behalf.
The news media team captured the momentous time as we left the immigration building with the kids and lawyers beside us. I felt like the NASA team in the movie "Armageddon" coming off the shuttle. On a much smaller scale, I know, but to me it meant the world. I could not believe it was finally over, and honestly I still cannot get past the idea. Since the decision from the San Antonio official that removed us from the deportation preceding, the extreme push to make our case known significantly slowed down, and especially so after the decision in Virginia that approved our motion to reopen our case. When we for approved for green cards in December, our family and friends were sure it was a done deal and it was certainly no longer a what if - but no way any other way!
We celebrated this day and let our friends know of the great news which we could not wait to get out! The funny thing was, that our actual "green" cards, much like a drivers license card but indeed green, arrived in the mail like a credit card, in a plain white envelope. The amazing thing was that our green card arrived in the mail on Christmas Eve. It was a long awaited and anticipated present. I thank the LORD for the journey, the favor, and the many friends along the way. Although hard and extremely trying in so many ways, He gave us strength to persevere, and hope for good. I know I cannot explain all that went on personally between Best Friend and me, but all that matters is that we know. We both know Who was in charge beyond doubt. We both know He has good plans for us. We alone know the intimate conversations, prayers, and confessions throughout it all. It was a cleansing period, but a time of growth. Merry Merry Christmas to us!!!
Saturday, August 4, 2012
Waiting on Board
I sit here and try to remember all the details again - but it seems so strange to me. I remember that once we saw the tide turn and things looking more hopeful, we gave ourselves time to be still and reminisce. I was so amazed by the support, I cannot express it enough. The money raised through the Paypal account my sister started helped pay the bills during this time so we didn't have to worry. Our friends Joe and Melissa gave us money to pay our mortgage so we don't lose our home in the midst of all this. People donated for a garage sale and our friends even ran it. The money helped us stay afloat during these months and I began looking at reorganizing my life and starting all over. Dan continued his job as a detention officer at the jail, and I began thinking about putting the kids back in school and stopping home-school. It was truly a new beginning for our family.
There were some hang-ups during this time, a lot of odds and end paperwork we had to fill out, a lot of processing and looking for lost documents, deadlines and rushing to comply with it all. The time in the midst waiting for the Board of Immigration Appeals in Virginia was nerve-wrecking! We tried living the best we knew how, had out home ready to sell, and packed up our belongings just in case. There was no national coverage to my knowledge at the time, so we just prayed daily that our case would be approved and we would get a chance to reopen our case. If this happened, our lawyer would apply on our behalf as he did with our mom, and as it has been done with many foreigners, and we would fill out the needed paperwork and go through the necessary procedures and get our green cards. If Virginia denied our case again, as they have done in the past when my dad applied for our family, then we would not be able to apply for permanent residency, and would be in the same boat, probably having to go back to Serbia and wait up to or at least ten years (not sure which one because we have gotten both answers ) before we can return and try again. We were open to this by now, and knew whatever happened, it would be for our best. It was pretty scary to think about moving our entire family across the seas as my parents did, only to a place far less advanced, and without any plans.
We were told that it takes at least three months for the Board of Appeals to look at our case and decide our fate. We were told that it also depends in whose hands our case falls, and what kind of day they're having as well as their personal take on our background and case. It sounded like a gamble, but we put our trust in the LORD. Just like everything else worked out in our favor regardless of what we were told, so did this: only about a month after our case was sent to Virginia, we received the great news that they approved our appeal to reopen our case! It didn't take at least three months, and we had no complications! It was amazing and we were beyond thrilled!
There were some hang-ups during this time, a lot of odds and end paperwork we had to fill out, a lot of processing and looking for lost documents, deadlines and rushing to comply with it all. The time in the midst waiting for the Board of Immigration Appeals in Virginia was nerve-wrecking! We tried living the best we knew how, had out home ready to sell, and packed up our belongings just in case. There was no national coverage to my knowledge at the time, so we just prayed daily that our case would be approved and we would get a chance to reopen our case. If this happened, our lawyer would apply on our behalf as he did with our mom, and as it has been done with many foreigners, and we would fill out the needed paperwork and go through the necessary procedures and get our green cards. If Virginia denied our case again, as they have done in the past when my dad applied for our family, then we would not be able to apply for permanent residency, and would be in the same boat, probably having to go back to Serbia and wait up to or at least ten years (not sure which one because we have gotten both answers ) before we can return and try again. We were open to this by now, and knew whatever happened, it would be for our best. It was pretty scary to think about moving our entire family across the seas as my parents did, only to a place far less advanced, and without any plans.
We were told that it takes at least three months for the Board of Appeals to look at our case and decide our fate. We were told that it also depends in whose hands our case falls, and what kind of day they're having as well as their personal take on our background and case. It sounded like a gamble, but we put our trust in the LORD. Just like everything else worked out in our favor regardless of what we were told, so did this: only about a month after our case was sent to Virginia, we received the great news that they approved our appeal to reopen our case! It didn't take at least three months, and we had no complications! It was amazing and we were beyond thrilled!
We met with ICE following the news, and the officer said
he has NEVER seen the BIA in VA totally dismiss and close a case without having
to go through additional trials. He was shocked - I said God is for us! Our
case with the monitoring agency was closed. No more trips to check in and no more
phone calls. No more trips to the ICE office. Now we only work with our lawyer
and get all of our paperwork checked off and turned in! This is the news we
have been waiting to hear and our family was so happy! My mom said, "Of
course you stay, what - you think you be going back to Serbia - no way!"
We laugh and take a load off, but most of all relief was the word.
We had a few more hiccups because our tax returns from the prior year did not fit the recommended bracket because Dan had lost his job, and his new one did not provide sufficient funds. George and mom pledged as guardians over me and we filled out more paperwork and it looked like all was set up for our final interview!
I believe the news did some follow up stories and once again, we are beyond thankful for all of their support and help because they played a super significant role in changing the direction our case was headed. We are forever thankful for all of our family, friends, coworkers, supporters across the globe, and the media who helped us! We love you all and owe you never-ending gratitude!
Thursday, August 2, 2012
ICE ICE Baby to go
As more and more people became involved and the news of our situation spread, we received an amazing phone call from our lawyer stating that the government official who initially dismissed and denied our case in San Antonio, "changed his mind" and approved our papers to stay! It was truly a miracle because things like this just don't happen. Our lawyer took the next step in filling out paperwork and now it was up to the Board of Immigration Office in Virginia to approve the motion to reopen the case which would reverse our deportation status and make it allowed for us to submit the paperwork to apply for the permanent residency or green card. We updated our status on FB and asked for new prayers and help to reach the national news so that the officials in DC would hear of our case and somehow it would change their minds too - like hearing our case on the Texas news changed the mind of the gentleman in San Antonio. How many of you know it doesn't happen the same way twice? No matter how many people tried and tried to get our story to explode it just wouldn't. That's because we were leaning on our own understanding. This scared us, but by this time we knew if God brought us this far, He wasn't going to quit yet and not allow us to get to the end. We spoke to reporters on CNN even, our friends e-mailed the daily shows on each station, but as we prayed that only those doors which would be in our favor to open would, and none of the national news and shows came through, we knew there was a reason and it was to our benefit.
I remember going to the ICE office one Sunday afternoon, with our son in the stroller and walking around the building praying for our case, and praying for the hearts of the officers in charge. The security guard on duty came up to us asking what we were doing and when we told him, he looked at us like "I have no idea if I should let you do this or not, but I guess I will." Dan was all ready to state his rights and all, but he didn't need to, thankfully. We prayed for a meeting coming up that Congressman Michael Burgess helped set up with ICE officials. We were scared, yet peaceful in our spirit that this meeting would help and not harm our situation.
As many stories in the immigration arena came out in the media, we received endless e-mails, phone calls, FB messages and such. The News media kept resurfacing our story in different lights, and we spent most of our days speaking to others about our situation. This was okay for me, since any down-time gave me more opportunity to doubt and speculate deportation. I rebuked those thoughts as much as could and looked for opportunities to get involved and serve.
When we met with the top ICE officials, I finally realized fully how this entire situation had very little if anything to do with us. The officials were extremely polite and helpful, apologizing for the treatment we have received and assuring us that we would not get deported. I believed them, but just to be smart and not let my guard down, I continued my life as if anything could happen. I did not want to completely rely on someone's word, because as I have witnessed before, the individuals could lose their job, move away, or even change departments and the new personnel have no earthly idea about any verbal agreements, nor do they want to acknowledge or comply. So to eliminate any possible future let-downs, we kept our focus and continued working with our lawyer, the news media, and anyone who came into our path willing to help in any way. I realized that the ICE team was indeed - "just doing their job." They were instructed to apprehend the "bad guys" who weren't documented, and trained not to get personal. It was their 8-5. I saw again that America was not our enemy, that the officials (who even told us "We actually want people like you here!") were not our enemy. I saw each person as an individual and prayed for them and thought about what kind of life they live outside their job. I saw the ICE offices and different departments struggling to stay connected between themselves, and grasped at how much more difficult it was for them to stay connected with every person who lives in this country. What a job! I know we have the means to document each individual now and why we don't do proficiently is as good a question for any corporation as it is for ICE.
Recently one of the news team reporters asked me what I thought about the two-year bill to keep the "Dreamers" (or kids whose parents brought them here at a young age, and we have gone to school here and created a life here, but cannot get legal citizenship). I am copying and pasting my response here - but as you read it you will tell - it was written as a reaction and quickly, so it's a bit strong.
As for the immigration stuff... I read and read about it but bottom line- the 2-yr. act means nothing. It's just prolonging what was to happen anyway. We were in this situation for many, many years and know it does not guarantee work authorization - as we got denied before, not understanding why, and that at any given point your name could be picked for arrest. I understand that during the two years, the kids would be safe, but right after they would be in the same boat. The two year period does not allow for them to do anything to push their case forward. If I were in charge :)))
During the two years, the kids have the option to move forward with their case. They come to the immigration office and provide all necessary paperwork needed. If a lawyer is absolutely necessary as we always heard, make a clause of some sort that a specific sum is the cap, to avoid the kids (as we did) going for help from lawyer to lawyer and being denied, or asked to pay tens of thousands of dollars up front. The kids are looking forward and have hope that at the end of the two years, when all that was expected of them has been turned in, will receive permanent residency. The list could be paperwork, no felonies, knows English, can jump on one foot - whatever. But something achievable and written on paper as a sure step to the prize if the goal is reached. If they failed to comply, their case will be looked at on a case basis, and either they can restart the process or face deportation. Having worked for the citizenship will give them a sense of accomplishment, and erase the resentment many of us had. Instead of just handing out green cards (as many are against this anyway), steps a, b, and c must be taken during the two years and if one does them - he/she gets to stay. Many of the kids have families of their own who are citizens like in our case. It would make the most sense. This way, all the kids are documented, have complied, want to live here and make America their home permanently and on paper as it is in most of our hearts. The very small amount who does not comply would face the next steps.
I think the biggest issue with us was money. I held a grudge because this was not taken care for me, and my parents did not work harder to make sure we can stay legally (of course not knowing the details). I felt shame because America did not accept us. I felt a sense of entitlement, that I should be a citizen because I had no choice in the matter. We all know, entitlement kills joy in our lives. Shame kills purpose. It's been an inward prison for many years that took an act of God to bring into light and expose, and ultimately fix. I have noticed that many Americans live with a sense of entitlement just because they are Americans. They have pride to be Americans, yet it was their ancestors who fought through hell to get them there. They are just taking advantage of something inherited. We have forgotten what it means to work for the right to be called Americans. We have taken it for granted. Maybe that's why it's been so easy to pass America away to the highest bidder. I hope that if new laws pass - or something like my proposal happens :) - it unites a whole new generation of immigrants - who came here as children, who are willing to fight once again to take this land back along with current citizens and bring back the fight for this land who is being picked apart by foreigners from foreign lands, not the ones who want to live here. It's not the minimum wage jobs that people are working in rain or shine at 110 degree weather to build our roads, and buildings that's the problem. It's not the businesses we want to open and provide jobs and boost our economy. It's the millions of jobs outsourced, the six-seven figure incomes being paid to foreigners overseas instead of providing training for well capable and willing citizens or those of us who want to be citizens. I'll stop for now...
I remember going to the ICE office one Sunday afternoon, with our son in the stroller and walking around the building praying for our case, and praying for the hearts of the officers in charge. The security guard on duty came up to us asking what we were doing and when we told him, he looked at us like "I have no idea if I should let you do this or not, but I guess I will." Dan was all ready to state his rights and all, but he didn't need to, thankfully. We prayed for a meeting coming up that Congressman Michael Burgess helped set up with ICE officials. We were scared, yet peaceful in our spirit that this meeting would help and not harm our situation.
As many stories in the immigration arena came out in the media, we received endless e-mails, phone calls, FB messages and such. The News media kept resurfacing our story in different lights, and we spent most of our days speaking to others about our situation. This was okay for me, since any down-time gave me more opportunity to doubt and speculate deportation. I rebuked those thoughts as much as could and looked for opportunities to get involved and serve.
When we met with the top ICE officials, I finally realized fully how this entire situation had very little if anything to do with us. The officials were extremely polite and helpful, apologizing for the treatment we have received and assuring us that we would not get deported. I believed them, but just to be smart and not let my guard down, I continued my life as if anything could happen. I did not want to completely rely on someone's word, because as I have witnessed before, the individuals could lose their job, move away, or even change departments and the new personnel have no earthly idea about any verbal agreements, nor do they want to acknowledge or comply. So to eliminate any possible future let-downs, we kept our focus and continued working with our lawyer, the news media, and anyone who came into our path willing to help in any way. I realized that the ICE team was indeed - "just doing their job." They were instructed to apprehend the "bad guys" who weren't documented, and trained not to get personal. It was their 8-5. I saw again that America was not our enemy, that the officials (who even told us "We actually want people like you here!") were not our enemy. I saw each person as an individual and prayed for them and thought about what kind of life they live outside their job. I saw the ICE offices and different departments struggling to stay connected between themselves, and grasped at how much more difficult it was for them to stay connected with every person who lives in this country. What a job! I know we have the means to document each individual now and why we don't do proficiently is as good a question for any corporation as it is for ICE.
Recently one of the news team reporters asked me what I thought about the two-year bill to keep the "Dreamers" (or kids whose parents brought them here at a young age, and we have gone to school here and created a life here, but cannot get legal citizenship). I am copying and pasting my response here - but as you read it you will tell - it was written as a reaction and quickly, so it's a bit strong.
As for the immigration stuff... I read and read about it but bottom line- the 2-yr. act means nothing. It's just prolonging what was to happen anyway. We were in this situation for many, many years and know it does not guarantee work authorization - as we got denied before, not understanding why, and that at any given point your name could be picked for arrest. I understand that during the two years, the kids would be safe, but right after they would be in the same boat. The two year period does not allow for them to do anything to push their case forward. If I were in charge :)))
During the two years, the kids have the option to move forward with their case. They come to the immigration office and provide all necessary paperwork needed. If a lawyer is absolutely necessary as we always heard, make a clause of some sort that a specific sum is the cap, to avoid the kids (as we did) going for help from lawyer to lawyer and being denied, or asked to pay tens of thousands of dollars up front. The kids are looking forward and have hope that at the end of the two years, when all that was expected of them has been turned in, will receive permanent residency. The list could be paperwork, no felonies, knows English, can jump on one foot - whatever. But something achievable and written on paper as a sure step to the prize if the goal is reached. If they failed to comply, their case will be looked at on a case basis, and either they can restart the process or face deportation. Having worked for the citizenship will give them a sense of accomplishment, and erase the resentment many of us had. Instead of just handing out green cards (as many are against this anyway), steps a, b, and c must be taken during the two years and if one does them - he/she gets to stay. Many of the kids have families of their own who are citizens like in our case. It would make the most sense. This way, all the kids are documented, have complied, want to live here and make America their home permanently and on paper as it is in most of our hearts. The very small amount who does not comply would face the next steps.
I think the biggest issue with us was money. I held a grudge because this was not taken care for me, and my parents did not work harder to make sure we can stay legally (of course not knowing the details). I felt shame because America did not accept us. I felt a sense of entitlement, that I should be a citizen because I had no choice in the matter. We all know, entitlement kills joy in our lives. Shame kills purpose. It's been an inward prison for many years that took an act of God to bring into light and expose, and ultimately fix. I have noticed that many Americans live with a sense of entitlement just because they are Americans. They have pride to be Americans, yet it was their ancestors who fought through hell to get them there. They are just taking advantage of something inherited. We have forgotten what it means to work for the right to be called Americans. We have taken it for granted. Maybe that's why it's been so easy to pass America away to the highest bidder. I hope that if new laws pass - or something like my proposal happens :) - it unites a whole new generation of immigrants - who came here as children, who are willing to fight once again to take this land back along with current citizens and bring back the fight for this land who is being picked apart by foreigners from foreign lands, not the ones who want to live here. It's not the minimum wage jobs that people are working in rain or shine at 110 degree weather to build our roads, and buildings that's the problem. It's not the businesses we want to open and provide jobs and boost our economy. It's the millions of jobs outsourced, the six-seven figure incomes being paid to foreigners overseas instead of providing training for well capable and willing citizens or those of us who want to be citizens. I'll stop for now...
Thursday, June 28, 2012
You've Got a Friend In Me
As I looked at the events unfolding, and the favor we had in every direction, I began to get more and more encouraged. It was surreal as to how every time something would go against us - it would fix itself miraculously. No matter what we walked through, I knew God was behind this because only He can create such favor when none is either deserved or expected by any means.
Each day consisted of much time spent on the phone and talking with people who stopped by. We continued working to fix our home, and our friend Jill, offered to sell it for us making no commission for herself. It was amazing how people came to help from all sides. Our neighbors were being so supportive and I even learned about their family's issues with immigration from France and South Africa. Dan's friends from his old job came to interview us and create a video of us as well, and many wonderful friends from church came to support us and watch the news story with us and be interviewed. The Tortorici family, Rita, Roberta, Sherry and the Met Church bunch were incredible! My sister's friends Mike and Sarah and their family, Jessica, Victoria, Jewelz,The Tirado's, and many more offered so much help with the house, buying supplies, garage sales, etc. it was awesome to experience. And of course the Reeds who offered their continual support and prayers and kept me sane - Thank you to the moon and back Lissa! We love you all! Our friends from Mannatech also began calling everyone they knew in the political sects and getting the word around on social networks and e-mail. Joe-Green and Ray constantly looked for ways to help and Terri was amazing! Kim - my sister in -law, worked tirelessly on our behalf contacting even her cousin in England who was an Episcopalian bishop or something! I will never forget it.
The Global team at Gateway were the first ones to take me aside and pray with me! Pastor Geoffrey had his own story with his wife when they both won the green card lottery to come here from South Africa and he prayed with me first. Carina - my absolute favorite girl at Gateway - was incredibly sweet and supportive, offering prayers and advice on anything I needed. Pastor Troy, Lorena, Jessica and the rest of the team came together for me like nobody's business, praying for me and supporting me and I will always cherish you all! I will never forget Pastor Bob on the Freedom Team telling me that even if the authorities do not want us here, and if we are not wanted as per the system, he said "we do, we want you here." It meant a lot. It did.
My in-laws were amazing though all of this. From the first day I told them, they were amazingly supportive, writing letters on our behalf, calling political officials, and involving their church. The little Catholic church in their small town was filled with wonderful people who prayed for us daily and offered support. Also, Dan's cousins and extended family stepped in as well - helping with lawyers all the way in New York, Vermont, Massachusetts, and down to Florida - contacting officials and TV crews, and much more. It was the big family I always wanted, coming together to help!
I remember friends contacting local political offices so much that Kay Granger's office assistant said they have never had this many phone calls about one case! Michael Burgess who was the congressman for my sisters district at the time offered a lot of help too. I remember a town hall meeting one Saturday morning. About fifty of our friends and family showed up to support us, as we were going to ask questions about the immigration policy. The news crews also showed up to take note of the event. Jelena's husband, Steve stood up and asked some questions on our behalf and Mr. Burgess answered accordingly, and favorably, but as we suspected clear answers like "for" and "against" are taboo words in the government. Afterward, we had more interviews with the news teams and a private meeting with Congressman Burgess and his team. He was very professional and helpful and worked on our behalf to get us a private interview with the head ICE officials.
Our friends continued to phone politicians, and a few that stand out I would like to mention here: Senator John Cornyn, Senator Kay Bailey Hutchison, Senator Kirk Watson, Congressman Pete Sessions, and others - if anyone remembers please let me know. Even Rick Perry Glen Beck, Bill O'Reilley MSNBC, FOX NEWS and various talk shows were contacted.
Even friends on their own, like an amazing gentleman Mark Mangrum, who helped us so much in so many ways, like hiring a landscape company to help with our yard situation. The lady who owned the company came by and during her many visits I had a chance to minister to her about some messy situations at home and pray with her for her kids. It was ordained and I knew it. Mark also helped in writing an independent article http://www.texasgopvote.com/blog/current-immigration-system-obsolete-06271.
One day, a friend of mine asked if we would meet with her friend who worked on documentaries on PBS to relate our story as she was interested in doing a film on us. Jelena and I met Jodi in Waco one afternoon at a Starbucks and talked like women on fire about some great passions of ours like human trafficking. She told us stories that would make your skin crawl, and all of a sudden our meager immigration stick we were in, seemed so small. We told her our story, but more importantly we made a new friend. Jodi is such an inspirational woman with great talents and vision. Shortly after, Jodi introduced us to another wonderful lady, Sarah, a bright and charming professor at Baylor who is also involved in the film industry. We met with the ladies many times, and it seemed that we have known them forever. Although nothing ever came out of the documentary or movie, it was a fun notion, and we enjoyed spending time with our new friends.
People were contacting all kinds of groups and it seemed that all religious denominational separations were put on hold nor did it matter about one being a democrat, republican or any other political sect. All of the differences were dropped and people came together for us from all walks of life. It was certainly the LORD's doing because it was too perfect and timely to be anything else. I remember how people came together to pray on our behalf and anytime we had a favorable response we posted on Facebook people responded giving glory to God. I knew in my deepest being that the peace I had was from God. I had wisdom about each situation and special knowledge and discernment about things happening as well. So, knowing all this was His well orchestrated plan, I knew all was being worked out for our good. The truth I kept going back to was that No-one, no authority, no government official or agency, no law or person had any authority over me that was not given to him by God, and if He gave anyone the authority to deport or detain or even have us go through this ordeal - then He had a good reason behind it and it was planned for our good. It sure was. I see now that the cries of His kids came to the top of His head (I dunno but my mom used to use this terminology) and it was time - but then He always knew it would be.
Each day consisted of much time spent on the phone and talking with people who stopped by. We continued working to fix our home, and our friend Jill, offered to sell it for us making no commission for herself. It was amazing how people came to help from all sides. Our neighbors were being so supportive and I even learned about their family's issues with immigration from France and South Africa. Dan's friends from his old job came to interview us and create a video of us as well, and many wonderful friends from church came to support us and watch the news story with us and be interviewed. The Tortorici family, Rita, Roberta, Sherry and the Met Church bunch were incredible! My sister's friends Mike and Sarah and their family, Jessica, Victoria, Jewelz,The Tirado's, and many more offered so much help with the house, buying supplies, garage sales, etc. it was awesome to experience. And of course the Reeds who offered their continual support and prayers and kept me sane - Thank you to the moon and back Lissa! We love you all! Our friends from Mannatech also began calling everyone they knew in the political sects and getting the word around on social networks and e-mail. Joe-Green and Ray constantly looked for ways to help and Terri was amazing! Kim - my sister in -law, worked tirelessly on our behalf contacting even her cousin in England who was an Episcopalian bishop or something! I will never forget it.
The Global team at Gateway were the first ones to take me aside and pray with me! Pastor Geoffrey had his own story with his wife when they both won the green card lottery to come here from South Africa and he prayed with me first. Carina - my absolute favorite girl at Gateway - was incredibly sweet and supportive, offering prayers and advice on anything I needed. Pastor Troy, Lorena, Jessica and the rest of the team came together for me like nobody's business, praying for me and supporting me and I will always cherish you all! I will never forget Pastor Bob on the Freedom Team telling me that even if the authorities do not want us here, and if we are not wanted as per the system, he said "we do, we want you here." It meant a lot. It did.
My in-laws were amazing though all of this. From the first day I told them, they were amazingly supportive, writing letters on our behalf, calling political officials, and involving their church. The little Catholic church in their small town was filled with wonderful people who prayed for us daily and offered support. Also, Dan's cousins and extended family stepped in as well - helping with lawyers all the way in New York, Vermont, Massachusetts, and down to Florida - contacting officials and TV crews, and much more. It was the big family I always wanted, coming together to help!
I remember friends contacting local political offices so much that Kay Granger's office assistant said they have never had this many phone calls about one case! Michael Burgess who was the congressman for my sisters district at the time offered a lot of help too. I remember a town hall meeting one Saturday morning. About fifty of our friends and family showed up to support us, as we were going to ask questions about the immigration policy. The news crews also showed up to take note of the event. Jelena's husband, Steve stood up and asked some questions on our behalf and Mr. Burgess answered accordingly, and favorably, but as we suspected clear answers like "for" and "against" are taboo words in the government. Afterward, we had more interviews with the news teams and a private meeting with Congressman Burgess and his team. He was very professional and helpful and worked on our behalf to get us a private interview with the head ICE officials.
Our friends continued to phone politicians, and a few that stand out I would like to mention here: Senator John Cornyn, Senator Kay Bailey Hutchison, Senator Kirk Watson, Congressman Pete Sessions, and others - if anyone remembers please let me know. Even Rick Perry Glen Beck, Bill O'Reilley MSNBC, FOX NEWS and various talk shows were contacted.
Even friends on their own, like an amazing gentleman Mark Mangrum, who helped us so much in so many ways, like hiring a landscape company to help with our yard situation. The lady who owned the company came by and during her many visits I had a chance to minister to her about some messy situations at home and pray with her for her kids. It was ordained and I knew it. Mark also helped in writing an independent article http://www.texasgopvote.com/blog/current-immigration-system-obsolete-06271.
One day, a friend of mine asked if we would meet with her friend who worked on documentaries on PBS to relate our story as she was interested in doing a film on us. Jelena and I met Jodi in Waco one afternoon at a Starbucks and talked like women on fire about some great passions of ours like human trafficking. She told us stories that would make your skin crawl, and all of a sudden our meager immigration stick we were in, seemed so small. We told her our story, but more importantly we made a new friend. Jodi is such an inspirational woman with great talents and vision. Shortly after, Jodi introduced us to another wonderful lady, Sarah, a bright and charming professor at Baylor who is also involved in the film industry. We met with the ladies many times, and it seemed that we have known them forever. Although nothing ever came out of the documentary or movie, it was a fun notion, and we enjoyed spending time with our new friends.
People were contacting all kinds of groups and it seemed that all religious denominational separations were put on hold nor did it matter about one being a democrat, republican or any other political sect. All of the differences were dropped and people came together for us from all walks of life. It was certainly the LORD's doing because it was too perfect and timely to be anything else. I remember how people came together to pray on our behalf and anytime we had a favorable response we posted on Facebook people responded giving glory to God. I knew in my deepest being that the peace I had was from God. I had wisdom about each situation and special knowledge and discernment about things happening as well. So, knowing all this was His well orchestrated plan, I knew all was being worked out for our good. The truth I kept going back to was that No-one, no authority, no government official or agency, no law or person had any authority over me that was not given to him by God, and if He gave anyone the authority to deport or detain or even have us go through this ordeal - then He had a good reason behind it and it was planned for our good. It sure was. I see now that the cries of His kids came to the top of His head (I dunno but my mom used to use this terminology) and it was time - but then He always knew it would be.
Wednesday, June 27, 2012
News Flash!
As I write about this time now, I so wish that I had done this while all this was going on. Like kept journal or even blogged on here on a daily basis! UGH! But oh well. I know I was scatterbrained and sitting down to collect my thoughts and write was not in my plans then. Anyway, the first few days were filled with friends and family contacting us and bringing us food, helping in the house, helping with the kids, and taking them places. I am so thankful for the many wonderful friends, I cannot express.
We called the news media this time as our lawyer suggested, and Lari from FOX news, Casey from Channel 8, and even the CBS Channel 11 team came by our home to interview us. (please someone remind me of the wonderful reporter who helped us as I lost her card and cannot remember her name). They were all so very nice and helpful, I was amazed. We even got an interview for the Dallas Morning News paper, and metro columnist, Jacquielynn Floyd did a very compelling story on us as well. The funny thing about this was that I was contacted via Facebook by a Serbian reporter who wanted to use the story he had read in the Dallas paper in Serbia. I said okay and gave him some more information as well, and he wrote a very nice story about us in Serbia also! It was amazing.
The only thing was, even though Lari had warned me about paying no attention to comments, I started reading the comments anyway, from people who wrote under the articles about us online. There was a lot of hate from people saying we should go home and be deported, but there was a lot of nice caring comments as well. The one that got me the most was under the Serbian article. When the picture was taken at my sister's home for the Dallas Morning News, the photographer said to look sternly into the camera and not to smile, and so we listened and did as we were asked. In this picture, I look very much Middle Eastern, and apparently the Serbian readers did not want me to come back to Serbia either! I was floored. The comments were derogatory and again - telling me to stay here in the States and not be let back into Serbia, because I was "cigani." (I think a racial slur for Gypsies from Romania, Turkey, India, etc.). More reason for rejection, but by now, I was done with that. Now I remember my mom warning me to never let go of her hand when we were walking through town when I was younger because I was darker complected and could be easily mistaken for a Gypsy and if kidnapped by them, no one would suspect a thing. Childhood memories... really.
Anyway, We tried to stay clear of reading comments after that and concentrated on listening to the media personnel. The FOX team was incredible, even having us in the studio and on evening prime time at the station to get our story out. Everyone was eager to help and I began to understand how much I loved America and the people. The hatred and bitterness I had was not geared towards people but enemies I could not see. I also saw that computer glitches, paperwork mishandling, improper training and all of that played a big part as well. During this time, our lawyer kept trying to get a hold of the chief council in San Antonio who dismissed our case and denied us. We were all hoping he would see the news or he would get word about it!
I had my ankle monitor on still, which I was told I needed to keep on me until I was deported. It was somewhat of a large computer plug with a box attached to it, that whenever my light began to blink yellow, I had to find a plug nearby and plug in to recharge. In the video clips available on the Facebook page you can see what it looked like.http://www.facebook.com/groups/164355385075/ I had to keep it on green and not let it get to red or it would alert the authorities. Here's a funny story:
A few days later, we were contacted by my friend's boyfriend Joe, who worked for a news station in Austin, where we grew up, that wanted to do our story. As time was critical and we needed to get as much publicity in hopes it would reach the decision makers who would reverse our case, we jumped at any opportunity that presented itself. Austin is closer to San Antonio so - yes please! We prayed only the beneficial requests would actually make it through to us, and this is exactly the way it was. So we packed up to drive to Austin, and if I remember right, I okay-ed it with the surveillance representative in charge of me - but if not - I did not think much of it because I was told I could not leave the state. Anyway, I can't remember, but I know we would not have gone if I had any belief that it would harm our case or if it was against the surveliiance rules. So we packed up to go to my mom's in Austin and midway on I35 my monitor starts beeping. I'm flipping out because we just passed some towns and there is not another gas station until Waco or something. Dan's going ninety miles an hour to get me somewhere where I can plug in, and finally pulls into a gas station that looked like a Mosque replica where we get out and I bring my charger. So, I walk in with a monitor around my ankle and a charger for it in my hand and I know I'm freaking they guy out behind the register. Dan walks in with the kids too who had to go to the restroom, so it's a whole pack of us. I go in WI-FI sitting area that's almost like a room for professionals and their electronic devices in the middle of nowhere in a gas station! A lady is there on her lap-top as we walk in and Dan helps me plug in, and the kids sit around me like it's no big deal for mom to plug in her ankle monitor at all. She looks at us, looks at my monitor, and "oh look at the time," leaves very quickly after. It was hilarious. So I get all charged up but as we're walking out, I'm still beeping, and the dude behind the register is still not happy about all of this. We get in the van, and the monitor wont stop beeping. Then the beeping gets more frequent and I think develops a new tone, so Dan flips out and turns around, as we're thinking a chopper's going to land around us anytime now and the swat team that gets out will drop us all to the ground! We start driving back and wonder if we are not suppose to go to interview in Austin after all? But I called my surveillance rep as I had her card, and she told me that the beeping occurs to alert the authorities when I have gone near an airport, train or bus station - which I didn't know - and apparently the gas station we stopped at was a truck stop/bus station! Really? So she reset my monitor and we headed back to Austin. It was neat that my oldest daughter was praying this whole time in the Spirit and prophesying to us about all kinds of stuff. One of the things she said was that our story will not get viral media attention until it is all over with. I was a bit disappointed because we were told that was our only chance, but God wanted us to rely on Him and not the media. I got it finally and it took my 13 year old to make it clear! Go figure!
Thanks to Joe who supported us and worked on our behalf, we had two interviews in Austin with Channel 8 TWC, and NBC KXAN also CW Austin, and came back to more recaps and follow up interviews in Fort Worth. We became known as the "sisters" and the support never stopped from all ends of the earth. I loved the special notes and messages that I am so upset are gone from the FB page now! I read over them every day for inspiration and encouragement. While we were in Austin we got to see our friends we grew up with which are so dear to me, because they have meant so much to Dan and I throughout the years! Sean, Amy and family, Dave, Christine, Camille, Scott, Kerry, Alicia, and Dana. The rest of the crew, most of which is scattered now, like Mel and the LA bunch, Chris and Justin in San Fran area, we kept in touch with over phone, Facebook and e-mail. It was the people during this time that helped make the cause worth fighting for.
We called the news media this time as our lawyer suggested, and Lari from FOX news, Casey from Channel 8, and even the CBS Channel 11 team came by our home to interview us. (please someone remind me of the wonderful reporter who helped us as I lost her card and cannot remember her name). They were all so very nice and helpful, I was amazed. We even got an interview for the Dallas Morning News paper, and metro columnist, Jacquielynn Floyd did a very compelling story on us as well. The funny thing about this was that I was contacted via Facebook by a Serbian reporter who wanted to use the story he had read in the Dallas paper in Serbia. I said okay and gave him some more information as well, and he wrote a very nice story about us in Serbia also! It was amazing.
The only thing was, even though Lari had warned me about paying no attention to comments, I started reading the comments anyway, from people who wrote under the articles about us online. There was a lot of hate from people saying we should go home and be deported, but there was a lot of nice caring comments as well. The one that got me the most was under the Serbian article. When the picture was taken at my sister's home for the Dallas Morning News, the photographer said to look sternly into the camera and not to smile, and so we listened and did as we were asked. In this picture, I look very much Middle Eastern, and apparently the Serbian readers did not want me to come back to Serbia either! I was floored. The comments were derogatory and again - telling me to stay here in the States and not be let back into Serbia, because I was "cigani." (I think a racial slur for Gypsies from Romania, Turkey, India, etc.). More reason for rejection, but by now, I was done with that. Now I remember my mom warning me to never let go of her hand when we were walking through town when I was younger because I was darker complected and could be easily mistaken for a Gypsy and if kidnapped by them, no one would suspect a thing. Childhood memories... really.
Anyway, We tried to stay clear of reading comments after that and concentrated on listening to the media personnel. The FOX team was incredible, even having us in the studio and on evening prime time at the station to get our story out. Everyone was eager to help and I began to understand how much I loved America and the people. The hatred and bitterness I had was not geared towards people but enemies I could not see. I also saw that computer glitches, paperwork mishandling, improper training and all of that played a big part as well. During this time, our lawyer kept trying to get a hold of the chief council in San Antonio who dismissed our case and denied us. We were all hoping he would see the news or he would get word about it!
I had my ankle monitor on still, which I was told I needed to keep on me until I was deported. It was somewhat of a large computer plug with a box attached to it, that whenever my light began to blink yellow, I had to find a plug nearby and plug in to recharge. In the video clips available on the Facebook page you can see what it looked like.http://www.facebook.com/groups/164355385075/ I had to keep it on green and not let it get to red or it would alert the authorities. Here's a funny story:
A few days later, we were contacted by my friend's boyfriend Joe, who worked for a news station in Austin, where we grew up, that wanted to do our story. As time was critical and we needed to get as much publicity in hopes it would reach the decision makers who would reverse our case, we jumped at any opportunity that presented itself. Austin is closer to San Antonio so - yes please! We prayed only the beneficial requests would actually make it through to us, and this is exactly the way it was. So we packed up to drive to Austin, and if I remember right, I okay-ed it with the surveillance representative in charge of me - but if not - I did not think much of it because I was told I could not leave the state. Anyway, I can't remember, but I know we would not have gone if I had any belief that it would harm our case or if it was against the surveliiance rules. So we packed up to go to my mom's in Austin and midway on I35 my monitor starts beeping. I'm flipping out because we just passed some towns and there is not another gas station until Waco or something. Dan's going ninety miles an hour to get me somewhere where I can plug in, and finally pulls into a gas station that looked like a Mosque replica where we get out and I bring my charger. So, I walk in with a monitor around my ankle and a charger for it in my hand and I know I'm freaking they guy out behind the register. Dan walks in with the kids too who had to go to the restroom, so it's a whole pack of us. I go in WI-FI sitting area that's almost like a room for professionals and their electronic devices in the middle of nowhere in a gas station! A lady is there on her lap-top as we walk in and Dan helps me plug in, and the kids sit around me like it's no big deal for mom to plug in her ankle monitor at all. She looks at us, looks at my monitor, and "oh look at the time," leaves very quickly after. It was hilarious. So I get all charged up but as we're walking out, I'm still beeping, and the dude behind the register is still not happy about all of this. We get in the van, and the monitor wont stop beeping. Then the beeping gets more frequent and I think develops a new tone, so Dan flips out and turns around, as we're thinking a chopper's going to land around us anytime now and the swat team that gets out will drop us all to the ground! We start driving back and wonder if we are not suppose to go to interview in Austin after all? But I called my surveillance rep as I had her card, and she told me that the beeping occurs to alert the authorities when I have gone near an airport, train or bus station - which I didn't know - and apparently the gas station we stopped at was a truck stop/bus station! Really? So she reset my monitor and we headed back to Austin. It was neat that my oldest daughter was praying this whole time in the Spirit and prophesying to us about all kinds of stuff. One of the things she said was that our story will not get viral media attention until it is all over with. I was a bit disappointed because we were told that was our only chance, but God wanted us to rely on Him and not the media. I got it finally and it took my 13 year old to make it clear! Go figure!
Thanks to Joe who supported us and worked on our behalf, we had two interviews in Austin with Channel 8 TWC, and NBC KXAN also CW Austin, and came back to more recaps and follow up interviews in Fort Worth. We became known as the "sisters" and the support never stopped from all ends of the earth. I loved the special notes and messages that I am so upset are gone from the FB page now! I read over them every day for inspiration and encouragement. While we were in Austin we got to see our friends we grew up with which are so dear to me, because they have meant so much to Dan and I throughout the years! Sean, Amy and family, Dave, Christine, Camille, Scott, Kerry, Alicia, and Dana. The rest of the crew, most of which is scattered now, like Mel and the LA bunch, Chris and Justin in San Fran area, we kept in touch with over phone, Facebook and e-mail. It was the people during this time that helped make the cause worth fighting for.
Tuesday, June 26, 2012
Socially Accepting the Challenge
And so it began... Dan and went inside and he immediately called my sister and Steve who came over right away. This situation included her, as when her visit to check in came up, she would be given the same information. We called our lawyer who filled us in on what we were facing and basically there is nothing he could do at this point since our case was closed. He was very upset about it and had been trying to get a hold of the officer who dismissed us to change his mind but with no success. Our lawyer, Mr. Smith, said that the only chance we have at this point is to go to the media and hope the pressure changes the mind of the counsel who is in charge because everything else is done. He cannot explain why our case was denied, and said there were no reasons for the decision, and it did not agree with the way he believes the law should work. It should not be that it works for some and not for others, but a step by step process that if you follow through and complete diligently you would get favorable results. If you do not go through the process - then you do not. Sounds too simple I guess. Afterall, my mom got her green card and she was the one who initially came to this country with us as children. We did not chose to come here nor did we understand or know anything about immigration as kids. We simply went along with our parents like children do. And now, our mom is allowed to stay, but we have to go back to a place we have not returned to in over 26 years, and would have a very hard time adjusting to. It made no sense. What was wrong with us and why were we still unwanted? Is it just a computer glitch or a simple eenie - meenie - miney -mo and we were not it?
I called the Serbian Embassy in Chicago and they too, were flabbergasted by our situation and said they would do anything to help. Nebojsa in the Consulate office assisted us whenever we needed help and we are truly grateful. The good thing was that due to the ankle monitor there was a stall about me going to Chicago in order to obtain my passport and the legal travel documents needed for deportation.
My sister's friend, Jessica asked how she could help and after we suggested the media - she ran with that idea. Fairly soon, we had numerous phonecalls to our home for possible interviews. Also, Steve updated the FB website to now include my story. He changed it from "Free Jelena," to "Keep Oli and Jelena in the US." http://www.facebook.com/groups/164355385075/ (Although this page started out differently and well over 1000 members supported us as I read we hit 1000 on June 21, 2010 Twitter page, FB changed their format and I think due to lack of updates at first, but then a change of format, the page is now labeled "group" and all the members were erased). Unlike button. My sister wrote up a wonderful post about me - one of those Steel Magnolia tearjerkers. I was touched but still in shock and disbelief. My sister-in-law, Kim called again as news was getting around her place of work - where Dan and Jelena both worked as well, for a very long time. People began calling as they saw the Facebook update and I think Dan and Steve answered most phone calls. http://twitter.com/#!/keepolijelena (and there was Twitter too :)
As the urgency was setting in, I remember going through the file cabinet and shredding everything. I had to keep busy. So apparently shredding our old bank statements and bills was a priority to me - I think I just dazed, actually. My sister kept asking what I needed since everyone is calling and asking how they can help. I knew our home was in desperate need of repair, but the only thing we had that we could sell and make money on, on which to live in Serbia. We had no savings left as I mentioned before, and were in a terrible financial shape. We owned the home for about 13 years, so we had equity in it. My reasoning was to fix it up quick and sell it for the best price possible. I knew that once I left, Dan would not take this project on, and probably short-sell it (and when I asked later, he admitted to this excatly), in order to come to Serbia quicker. This would leave us with very little cash to live on and I was worried for my family. I had to act quick and think fast. I asked my sister to let everyone know if they wanted to help, we needed help fixing the house. Immediately people from all over started coming to our house and painting, bringing supplies, food, calling to see what they could do, etc. I wish I had written a diary during this time. I wish I noted every note, e-mail, message, and visit. It was extremely overwhelming and humbling. My sister set up some spreadsheet and my best friend Melissa kept a notebook of needs and things done. It was amazing. I had no will to try but peace through it all. I remember laughing aloud to stay sane because observing my house was too surreal. Inside, I knew God would turn everything out for the best, and no matter what, it will be for my my best. I wanted to scream, yet I just went along with whatever others did and set up. I did not care what was going on; I was in a kind of a zone.
We had dinner provided for at least a week I think, and it was such a blessing seeing I was in no shape to cook or shop for food. So much thanks to Tonya and the Tortorici family, Rita, Roberta and the Met Church ladies who made some kind of care calendar and had people sign up to bring us food. I was literally living as a dead woman. All drive left me and I gave in and let it be. I was weak, but within me the peace was undeniable. It made me smile and laugh and wonder why everyone around me was so worried. Now don't get me wrong, there were certainly times when I dropped my guard and fell into the circumstances and panicked. But strangely, those times prepared me for this extreme sense of patriotism towards America I cannot explain. I felt like the first settlers and long forgotten immigrants who came here many moons ago. I was fighting for my family, for my freedom, and for a chance to be called an American. I was fighting for peace, a better life and greater opportunity for our kids. I paid a dear price and felt mistreated for many years, but then it all went away, and rejection disappeared with the support of so many friends and even people from all over the world we have never even met. I felt God gave me supporters and encourages for the fight. There was even a nice lady from Dublin, Ireland who was supporting us and several from Japan and Australia/New Zealand area! I felt empowered.
I knew I wanted our family to stay here. I wanted my children to go to school here. I wanted to play with my great-grandchildren here. I wanted us to retire here. THIS IS MY HOME! And I fought for it. In it all, I had peace that if we had to leave we would still be together and it would begin an entire new adventure for us. If I turned to "signs" for clues or guides in my life, I would not have fought because all the "signs" pointed to us moving to Serbia. Our neighbor told us of a friend with a mission field in Serbia he could hook us up with. It seemed like the same story but in reverse of us moving here back in 1985 that we "had" to re-live because it was a generational thing... I felt very adventurous and energetic in starting new and fresh because our life was so hard here and we were about to lose our home anyway. Dan and I were sooooo hungry for change. At this point any kind of change to our mundane, poor, and unproductive lives. But - there was a small part of me who saw this as a reason to fight. A part of me who saw this as an opportunity, in this land of opportunity. But as it is said, every testimony begins with a test. And we had so many tests, the eager hope of that many grand testimonies gave me a taste for victory I'll never forget.
I called the Serbian Embassy in Chicago and they too, were flabbergasted by our situation and said they would do anything to help. Nebojsa in the Consulate office assisted us whenever we needed help and we are truly grateful. The good thing was that due to the ankle monitor there was a stall about me going to Chicago in order to obtain my passport and the legal travel documents needed for deportation.
My sister's friend, Jessica asked how she could help and after we suggested the media - she ran with that idea. Fairly soon, we had numerous phonecalls to our home for possible interviews. Also, Steve updated the FB website to now include my story. He changed it from "Free Jelena," to "Keep Oli and Jelena in the US." http://www.facebook.com/groups/164355385075/ (Although this page started out differently and well over 1000 members supported us as I read we hit 1000 on June 21, 2010 Twitter page, FB changed their format and I think due to lack of updates at first, but then a change of format, the page is now labeled "group" and all the members were erased). Unlike button. My sister wrote up a wonderful post about me - one of those Steel Magnolia tearjerkers. I was touched but still in shock and disbelief. My sister-in-law, Kim called again as news was getting around her place of work - where Dan and Jelena both worked as well, for a very long time. People began calling as they saw the Facebook update and I think Dan and Steve answered most phone calls. http://twitter.com/#!/keepolijelena (and there was Twitter too :)
As the urgency was setting in, I remember going through the file cabinet and shredding everything. I had to keep busy. So apparently shredding our old bank statements and bills was a priority to me - I think I just dazed, actually. My sister kept asking what I needed since everyone is calling and asking how they can help. I knew our home was in desperate need of repair, but the only thing we had that we could sell and make money on, on which to live in Serbia. We had no savings left as I mentioned before, and were in a terrible financial shape. We owned the home for about 13 years, so we had equity in it. My reasoning was to fix it up quick and sell it for the best price possible. I knew that once I left, Dan would not take this project on, and probably short-sell it (and when I asked later, he admitted to this excatly), in order to come to Serbia quicker. This would leave us with very little cash to live on and I was worried for my family. I had to act quick and think fast. I asked my sister to let everyone know if they wanted to help, we needed help fixing the house. Immediately people from all over started coming to our house and painting, bringing supplies, food, calling to see what they could do, etc. I wish I had written a diary during this time. I wish I noted every note, e-mail, message, and visit. It was extremely overwhelming and humbling. My sister set up some spreadsheet and my best friend Melissa kept a notebook of needs and things done. It was amazing. I had no will to try but peace through it all. I remember laughing aloud to stay sane because observing my house was too surreal. Inside, I knew God would turn everything out for the best, and no matter what, it will be for my my best. I wanted to scream, yet I just went along with whatever others did and set up. I did not care what was going on; I was in a kind of a zone.
We had dinner provided for at least a week I think, and it was such a blessing seeing I was in no shape to cook or shop for food. So much thanks to Tonya and the Tortorici family, Rita, Roberta and the Met Church ladies who made some kind of care calendar and had people sign up to bring us food. I was literally living as a dead woman. All drive left me and I gave in and let it be. I was weak, but within me the peace was undeniable. It made me smile and laugh and wonder why everyone around me was so worried. Now don't get me wrong, there were certainly times when I dropped my guard and fell into the circumstances and panicked. But strangely, those times prepared me for this extreme sense of patriotism towards America I cannot explain. I felt like the first settlers and long forgotten immigrants who came here many moons ago. I was fighting for my family, for my freedom, and for a chance to be called an American. I was fighting for peace, a better life and greater opportunity for our kids. I paid a dear price and felt mistreated for many years, but then it all went away, and rejection disappeared with the support of so many friends and even people from all over the world we have never even met. I felt God gave me supporters and encourages for the fight. There was even a nice lady from Dublin, Ireland who was supporting us and several from Japan and Australia/New Zealand area! I felt empowered.
I knew I wanted our family to stay here. I wanted my children to go to school here. I wanted to play with my great-grandchildren here. I wanted us to retire here. THIS IS MY HOME! And I fought for it. In it all, I had peace that if we had to leave we would still be together and it would begin an entire new adventure for us. If I turned to "signs" for clues or guides in my life, I would not have fought because all the "signs" pointed to us moving to Serbia. Our neighbor told us of a friend with a mission field in Serbia he could hook us up with. It seemed like the same story but in reverse of us moving here back in 1985 that we "had" to re-live because it was a generational thing... I felt very adventurous and energetic in starting new and fresh because our life was so hard here and we were about to lose our home anyway. Dan and I were sooooo hungry for change. At this point any kind of change to our mundane, poor, and unproductive lives. But - there was a small part of me who saw this as a reason to fight. A part of me who saw this as an opportunity, in this land of opportunity. But as it is said, every testimony begins with a test. And we had so many tests, the eager hope of that many grand testimonies gave me a taste for victory I'll never forget.
Friday, July 22, 2011
The Turning Point
And so... it was a day I left and went to Starbucks with a book, and cried out to God that I am just like anyone else and cannot hold it together any longer by trying to be a "good Christian wife." I know what the Bible says about divorce, but I see no other way. If there was a way I would follow it, but I only saw fog no matter how hard I tried. So in other words, I stopped trying. I had to for my sanity's sake. My best friend Melissa called just then and when I told her where I was and what I was contemplating, she and her husband Joe came to the coffee shop right away. We talked, and Joe prayed for me and Dan, begging me to not call it quits. I listened but did not hear. I went home, and agreed with God to keep going, just a bit longer. Then...
I went into the monitoring company who by now has changed to BI http://bi.com/ for my routine check in and was told some crazy news. Apparently the motion to reopen our case was denied back in February and even our lawyer kept it from us. All the while he tried all he could to turn the minds of the ones in charge because as he said - there was no reason for the denial, and it was one of those decisions people make according to their moods. And the guy in San Antonio who denied us apparently had a very bad day and for whatever reason stamped our case closed and done. Not in a good way. The agent assigned to my case placed an ankle monitor on me as she described the specifics about the green and red lights on it. I was in shock and could not believe what was happening but at the same time surprisingly calm and at peace. I was told my case was closed and I needed to go to Chicago and get my passport situation taken care of ASAP because I was in the process of being deported and had to leave the country in TWO weeks.
Driving home, I tried to let it all sink in but I was beaten down to the core by this time so I was immune to pain and felt nothing at all. Since we only had the van at this time, Dan was waiting on me to take him to a part time gig selling roofs he was attempting. He got in the car when I pulled into the garage and asked how my visit was, expecting to hear the usual. I lifted up the bottom of my pant leg and exposed the ankle monitor. I briefly told him what happened and that I had to leave the country in two weeks. I said it very matter-of-fact like, still in shock and tazed. He spoke sharply to me to stop the car and looked at me asking questions like - why are you taking me to work, and what are you doing? He said for us to go back into the house and do something about this. He said it did not end there. He took charge for the first time in a very long time. He said many things to me that day, but I knew nothing else mattered and he will fight for me. His job situation did not matter because in at least this - he still had it in him to fight for his princess. I felt loved again. I saw a glimpse in his eyes. I felt it in my bones coming straight from his heart. Even for just a moment. The eyes of my own heart were opened so that I saw Love, I knew I had hope and power, and the inheritance of victory in battle is mine.
I agreed with Dan that I would fight to stay with him. The easy way for me would have been to accept deportation and go willingly, and it would have made sense with our marriage situation. It would have been my "way out." There were moments I was tempted to look forward to being alone in a foreign land and have time to myself to get in shape and "find myself" and come back all chic like Sabrina. But when I looked at my knight in shining armor as I saw him this way for the first time since we first courted, I saw love and I could not turn away from love.
The warrior spirit returned to both of us. It was like we had something in common to fight for since fighting to survive financially was only dividing us and breaking us apart due to our differing views. We gave up fighting to keep our bodies fit and we lost the will to fight to make God "like" us. Just as we were, we offered ourselves to God and knew we could trust Him, that He has ordained all of this. Every circumstance won its battle against us but now the last battle for the win of the war was aimed at us directly. We mustered up any will to survive we had left and let go. There was much more we have not discovered yet. We became stronger together. The battle begun. I knew the road would be a lot harder but at the end of the day, I didn't want to end up singing "Rolling in the Deep."
I went into the monitoring company who by now has changed to BI http://bi.com/ for my routine check in and was told some crazy news. Apparently the motion to reopen our case was denied back in February and even our lawyer kept it from us. All the while he tried all he could to turn the minds of the ones in charge because as he said - there was no reason for the denial, and it was one of those decisions people make according to their moods. And the guy in San Antonio who denied us apparently had a very bad day and for whatever reason stamped our case closed and done. Not in a good way. The agent assigned to my case placed an ankle monitor on me as she described the specifics about the green and red lights on it. I was in shock and could not believe what was happening but at the same time surprisingly calm and at peace. I was told my case was closed and I needed to go to Chicago and get my passport situation taken care of ASAP because I was in the process of being deported and had to leave the country in TWO weeks.
Driving home, I tried to let it all sink in but I was beaten down to the core by this time so I was immune to pain and felt nothing at all. Since we only had the van at this time, Dan was waiting on me to take him to a part time gig selling roofs he was attempting. He got in the car when I pulled into the garage and asked how my visit was, expecting to hear the usual. I lifted up the bottom of my pant leg and exposed the ankle monitor. I briefly told him what happened and that I had to leave the country in two weeks. I said it very matter-of-fact like, still in shock and tazed. He spoke sharply to me to stop the car and looked at me asking questions like - why are you taking me to work, and what are you doing? He said for us to go back into the house and do something about this. He said it did not end there. He took charge for the first time in a very long time. He said many things to me that day, but I knew nothing else mattered and he will fight for me. His job situation did not matter because in at least this - he still had it in him to fight for his princess. I felt loved again. I saw a glimpse in his eyes. I felt it in my bones coming straight from his heart. Even for just a moment. The eyes of my own heart were opened so that I saw Love, I knew I had hope and power, and the inheritance of victory in battle is mine.
I agreed with Dan that I would fight to stay with him. The easy way for me would have been to accept deportation and go willingly, and it would have made sense with our marriage situation. It would have been my "way out." There were moments I was tempted to look forward to being alone in a foreign land and have time to myself to get in shape and "find myself" and come back all chic like Sabrina. But when I looked at my knight in shining armor as I saw him this way for the first time since we first courted, I saw love and I could not turn away from love.
The warrior spirit returned to both of us. It was like we had something in common to fight for since fighting to survive financially was only dividing us and breaking us apart due to our differing views. We gave up fighting to keep our bodies fit and we lost the will to fight to make God "like" us. Just as we were, we offered ourselves to God and knew we could trust Him, that He has ordained all of this. Every circumstance won its battle against us but now the last battle for the win of the war was aimed at us directly. We mustered up any will to survive we had left and let go. There was much more we have not discovered yet. We became stronger together. The battle begun. I knew the road would be a lot harder but at the end of the day, I didn't want to end up singing "Rolling in the Deep."
The Year in Waiting
We got used to the routine and kept going forward. Jelena spent her time planning for her wedding, and I stayed home with the kids, home-schooling and spending time with them. Early of 2010, Jelena was called into the surveillance company's office and an ankle monitor was placed on her because she lacked a specific document she had no idea about. I do not recall all the reasoning behind it, like I said, I hope she writes her own experience to describe the parts I have missed. So as I remember, the wedding shower at Plaka Greek Cafe (a Greek restaurant in Georgetown my mom and step-dad, George, own) was conducted with the bride-to-be cuffed with an ankle monitor under her jeans! She wore that monitor for two weeks I believe until the documents were provided - she was told if she did not provide the document, she would be deported and thus the need for the ankle monitor. In March of 2010, Jelena and Steve married at Gateway church, the way my sister had dreamed of. We had a beautiful ceremony, our oldest daughter, Claudia sang and Isabel and Gabriel were flower girl and ring bearer. The ceremony was exciting and fun, and it took place at the old Grapevine Theater on Main Street. As my mom reconciled with her cousin in Fort Wayne, IN we had our only cousins at the wedding as well as our aunt from Serbia we have not seen in many years. It was magical and beautiful.
March was also mine and Daniel's 14th wedding anniversary. Although this time should have been grand and blissful, for Daniel and myself it was anything but that. All the immigration mess aside, we were struggling like never before in our marriage. It seemed we were alright on the outside like so many marriages these days, attending a thriving church regularly, volunteering and having our kids involved. We even took a trips to try to hold the family together. These were the good times that probably did serve to keep us together...
While he worked in Galveston with a friend, Kenny, doing some plumbing work after the hurricanes hit, I and the kiddos joined him and stayed to play on the beach. Although we ate the Sam's Club mega boxes of mac and cheese EVERY day, his mom bought us before we left, it was a blessed opportunity for us to have fun and be together, enjoying life with our kids. We got a Route 44 Cherry Limeaid everyday between 2 and 4pm to share, and stepped on crabs at night as we walked on the beach. One week we saved enough and shared a dinner out and played miniature golf - even if just the kids played, after watching the volcano show across the street in front of Rainforest Cafe. During the holidays of 2009, we even took a trip to Branson, MO. What many did not know, we made that trip on like $300 (my mom gave us) for 5 days. It was a time share deal I had purchased before he got laid off, and we did not see any shows either; just went sight-seeing and had money for food and gas. But it was a fun family time nonetheless and we all enjoyed it very much! Especially running in our bathing suits in the freezing cold to the pool across the parking lot!
As much as we tried to make the best of things, we were not superhuman and the effects of our situations caught up to us no matter how hard we tried to suppress them. We had to get everything worked out and in the open but the fiery darts against us all happened at once. We were bombarded from every angle in our marriage while still wounded from the immigration trials.
Dan had fallen into despair after losing his job of 13 years, and after all the doors to ministry opportunities closed, he closed up and was unreachable. I could not work and begged him - and nagged of course - everyday, to get a second job or a better paying one. We had gotten into so much debt while he was looking for work and was unemployed, that this very low-paying job would in no way get us back on our feet. (very low-paying government job while he worked as an officer in a jail). I thought of how my mom worked two jobs without knowing the language well and not being documented and wished Dan had at least half that zeal for his family. I know some say that "undocumented illegals" take the jobs from Americans - but I have witnessed firsthand this to be untrue. For example, my mom accepted any job and worked as a grocery store bagger, envelope stuffer and metal sorter. She was happy to have a job and although she worked 70+ hours a week for very little money, she worked to provide as best she knew how. Our family never applied for any form of government assistance nor did my mom sue for child support. Dan was a capable middle-aged man who knew English well, is very intelligent and resourceful, capable of doing any job with perfection from management and audio engineering to cooking, plumbing and craftsmanship. But accepting a job at a retail store or Micky D's was out of the question, and like the cousin in Christmas Vacation, Eddie - he was "waiting for a management position". I think it's because we hold a certain pride in the US and have been conditioned to stay in our field, or not accept less b/c it will hurt our resume, and even legit hopes of achieving our dreams and working for ourselves get in the way of buckling down and doing whatever to get by. I know Dan went through a very rough time with no mentors alongside him, and I know he had no idea what to do and it was scary for him. He lost hope, became depressed, and resorted to sending resumes while expecting no one to respond - and no one did. There was no real effort and it seemed me and the kids were not worth fighting for. It seemed he has given up on us and even though our home was in foreclosure stages, he sat back expecting a miracle to drop from the sky... I at least wanted him to take this opportunity and take some college courses, but that did not work out either. I guess no matter how hard you try, you cannot change someone or "make" them do what you think they should. I was so humbled during this time, like never before. To be in such a weak spot in your lief that you have to accept food from other sources other than from the work of your hands is very degrading. I did not like the way I acted towards Dan, and came to the conclusion that he did not love me anymore. And this lie made me sad and I started to believe I did not want to be with someone who did not love me. Separation? That was the answer to wake Dan up, I thought. I wanted the movie and fairy tale - for him to fight for me and his family, try hard and give all he has like a knight in shining armor coming to our rescue. But then there was that promise of "for better or for worse." I thought I would go crazy and I know Dan was at the end of his rope too.
But instead, I became the nagging wife who is never satisfied and he the absent father who could not provide. We were very unhappy with each other and resorted to eating junk food and becoming as lazy as possible. I wanted to be the typical stay at home wife at the suburbia churches and was embarrassed to accept money from friends, gift cards from our church and even food. I was prideful, had an issue receiving help, and Dan was tired of me complaining.
We took financial classes and Dan started joining groups in which other unemployed individuals also looked for work. We tried marriage help at church and read books about it. We went to counseling and marriage classes. We were tried and tested in every way, even in ways of immorality I won't mention here. We were blessed by an awesome couple Gay and Russell from church to be given an opportunity to complete three weekends of an incredible conference called Discovery, through which we got rid of many demons in our lives. It was like freedom ministry on steroids. We attended a freedom conference called Kairos at our church. We picked ourselves up and dragged us bleeding and bruised, crawling up to each of these events. But each event was a very helpful reminder of God's love and a timely push to persevere.
In the midst of this, Dan began developing a heart murmur and we had to go to many hospitals and emergency rooms to try to figure out what in the world was going on. We got deeper and deeper in debt with added medical bills. I was so mad at him that I could not even be symphatetic as he wanted me to be and as I wanted myself to care. Dan was fearful of the worst, and I wished it were me. Immigration did not matter anymore and I started to wish they would just come and take me away. I was at the end of my rope myself and I just hope we hid it from our kids well enough. I know we hid it pretty well from everyone else.
To recap this year, it started with severe financial difficulty, major debt, then a low-paying job, heart problems for Dan including many hospital and ER visits, marital strife for the both of us and talks of separation, we got fat again, our home on the verge of being taken from us and all savings and 401K spent. We were exhausted in the area of ministry, felt the sifting like crazy and wanted out. BOTH of our cars died - like engines blew up and everything - and we had to borrow money from Dan's parents in order to get a used van. (1997 used). I felt like a failure in homeschooling my kids and I cried daily while feeling like I was a "bad mother." I was anything but a supportive wife and Dan was not a provider and leader we both know he can be. Hopelessness was the buzz word we were tempted with. It was the hardest year of our lives and one we thought we would never recover from.
March was also mine and Daniel's 14th wedding anniversary. Although this time should have been grand and blissful, for Daniel and myself it was anything but that. All the immigration mess aside, we were struggling like never before in our marriage. It seemed we were alright on the outside like so many marriages these days, attending a thriving church regularly, volunteering and having our kids involved. We even took a trips to try to hold the family together. These were the good times that probably did serve to keep us together...
While he worked in Galveston with a friend, Kenny, doing some plumbing work after the hurricanes hit, I and the kiddos joined him and stayed to play on the beach. Although we ate the Sam's Club mega boxes of mac and cheese EVERY day, his mom bought us before we left, it was a blessed opportunity for us to have fun and be together, enjoying life with our kids. We got a Route 44 Cherry Limeaid everyday between 2 and 4pm to share, and stepped on crabs at night as we walked on the beach. One week we saved enough and shared a dinner out and played miniature golf - even if just the kids played, after watching the volcano show across the street in front of Rainforest Cafe. During the holidays of 2009, we even took a trip to Branson, MO. What many did not know, we made that trip on like $300 (my mom gave us) for 5 days. It was a time share deal I had purchased before he got laid off, and we did not see any shows either; just went sight-seeing and had money for food and gas. But it was a fun family time nonetheless and we all enjoyed it very much! Especially running in our bathing suits in the freezing cold to the pool across the parking lot!
As much as we tried to make the best of things, we were not superhuman and the effects of our situations caught up to us no matter how hard we tried to suppress them. We had to get everything worked out and in the open but the fiery darts against us all happened at once. We were bombarded from every angle in our marriage while still wounded from the immigration trials.
Dan had fallen into despair after losing his job of 13 years, and after all the doors to ministry opportunities closed, he closed up and was unreachable. I could not work and begged him - and nagged of course - everyday, to get a second job or a better paying one. We had gotten into so much debt while he was looking for work and was unemployed, that this very low-paying job would in no way get us back on our feet. (very low-paying government job while he worked as an officer in a jail). I thought of how my mom worked two jobs without knowing the language well and not being documented and wished Dan had at least half that zeal for his family. I know some say that "undocumented illegals" take the jobs from Americans - but I have witnessed firsthand this to be untrue. For example, my mom accepted any job and worked as a grocery store bagger, envelope stuffer and metal sorter. She was happy to have a job and although she worked 70+ hours a week for very little money, she worked to provide as best she knew how. Our family never applied for any form of government assistance nor did my mom sue for child support. Dan was a capable middle-aged man who knew English well, is very intelligent and resourceful, capable of doing any job with perfection from management and audio engineering to cooking, plumbing and craftsmanship. But accepting a job at a retail store or Micky D's was out of the question, and like the cousin in Christmas Vacation, Eddie - he was "waiting for a management position". I think it's because we hold a certain pride in the US and have been conditioned to stay in our field, or not accept less b/c it will hurt our resume, and even legit hopes of achieving our dreams and working for ourselves get in the way of buckling down and doing whatever to get by. I know Dan went through a very rough time with no mentors alongside him, and I know he had no idea what to do and it was scary for him. He lost hope, became depressed, and resorted to sending resumes while expecting no one to respond - and no one did. There was no real effort and it seemed me and the kids were not worth fighting for. It seemed he has given up on us and even though our home was in foreclosure stages, he sat back expecting a miracle to drop from the sky... I at least wanted him to take this opportunity and take some college courses, but that did not work out either. I guess no matter how hard you try, you cannot change someone or "make" them do what you think they should. I was so humbled during this time, like never before. To be in such a weak spot in your lief that you have to accept food from other sources other than from the work of your hands is very degrading. I did not like the way I acted towards Dan, and came to the conclusion that he did not love me anymore. And this lie made me sad and I started to believe I did not want to be with someone who did not love me. Separation? That was the answer to wake Dan up, I thought. I wanted the movie and fairy tale - for him to fight for me and his family, try hard and give all he has like a knight in shining armor coming to our rescue. But then there was that promise of "for better or for worse." I thought I would go crazy and I know Dan was at the end of his rope too.
But instead, I became the nagging wife who is never satisfied and he the absent father who could not provide. We were very unhappy with each other and resorted to eating junk food and becoming as lazy as possible. I wanted to be the typical stay at home wife at the suburbia churches and was embarrassed to accept money from friends, gift cards from our church and even food. I was prideful, had an issue receiving help, and Dan was tired of me complaining.
We took financial classes and Dan started joining groups in which other unemployed individuals also looked for work. We tried marriage help at church and read books about it. We went to counseling and marriage classes. We were tried and tested in every way, even in ways of immorality I won't mention here. We were blessed by an awesome couple Gay and Russell from church to be given an opportunity to complete three weekends of an incredible conference called Discovery, through which we got rid of many demons in our lives. It was like freedom ministry on steroids. We attended a freedom conference called Kairos at our church. We picked ourselves up and dragged us bleeding and bruised, crawling up to each of these events. But each event was a very helpful reminder of God's love and a timely push to persevere.
In the midst of this, Dan began developing a heart murmur and we had to go to many hospitals and emergency rooms to try to figure out what in the world was going on. We got deeper and deeper in debt with added medical bills. I was so mad at him that I could not even be symphatetic as he wanted me to be and as I wanted myself to care. Dan was fearful of the worst, and I wished it were me. Immigration did not matter anymore and I started to wish they would just come and take me away. I was at the end of my rope myself and I just hope we hid it from our kids well enough. I know we hid it pretty well from everyone else.
To recap this year, it started with severe financial difficulty, major debt, then a low-paying job, heart problems for Dan including many hospital and ER visits, marital strife for the both of us and talks of separation, we got fat again, our home on the verge of being taken from us and all savings and 401K spent. We were exhausted in the area of ministry, felt the sifting like crazy and wanted out. BOTH of our cars died - like engines blew up and everything - and we had to borrow money from Dan's parents in order to get a used van. (1997 used). I felt like a failure in homeschooling my kids and I cried daily while feeling like I was a "bad mother." I was anything but a supportive wife and Dan was not a provider and leader we both know he can be. Hopelessness was the buzz word we were tempted with. It was the hardest year of our lives and one we thought we would never recover from.
Thursday, July 21, 2011
Another Journey Begins...
While my sister was donning an orange jumpsuit and waiting for her cash we sent in so she can buy extra items like a toothbrush and ice cream, freezing in the cell with other women with even more horrific stories from all over the world who have been at the Haskell prison for months and months - I was being summoned to the ICE office myself. Dan came with me, but was not allowed in, so he waited for me outside for what seemed to be an eternity. As I walked in the back to meet with the officers, it seemed I was taken to a movie set back in the 80's of a police office. The way everyone spoke and talked was saddening, and I just sat back taking it all in and wondering how these officers could find peace and a positive outlook on life. I'm sure that after dealing with criminals like the few I witnessed behind me who were smuggling people in from Mexico and obviously lying about their identity, the officers become tainted and lose feeling. I don't know, but there is definitely a need to help those in our public offices. Greater pay and benefits for example? If police officers, fire fighters, teachers, and many other government employees especially in the military branches who work with people to raise up and protect people got paid half as much as IT professionals who raise up and protect computers, maybe things would be different. I suppose being satisfied in life helps to be more loving towards humanity and treating people with respect. The old adage that you treat others the way you would want to be treated should stand for those you do not respect, know, and even your enemies. Treating criminals "like criminals" only makes them want to become greater criminals. We are creating this world around us. I'm not saying that the punishment does not fit the crime, and I even support the death penalty in some cases. But the road to it needs to be paved with respectable and decent people in charge, professionals who convey truth in ways that make even criminals on their way to the electric chair feel remorse for their actions. Although it may not help their circumstances, the power of Love can absolutely change their eternal destination.
Anyway, I told them my story and filled out paperwork, stamped my fingers and all that jazz. I asked them to talk to my lawyer so he can let them know we were underway of getting this taken care of, but they were fed up with speaking with lawyers, I think. I received some paperwork that were to be known as "my papers" from that day on, and I was to carry them with me wherever I went. The paperwork included my rights, picture, fingerprints, etc. I was placed on a monitoring system, through which I had to call weekly on a voice recognition program and report to the office on a regular basis as well. I began to receive home visits so that they were sure I would not leave. Now, we have been in the same house for 13 years, and I was not a threat. I think although this was necessary protocol, it was a waste of taxpayers money - taxpayers, which included us. The company that was outsourced to take care of "watching us" was G4S (Group 4 Securicor http://www.g4s.com/) and it reminded me of the Bourne Identity movies when I looked them up, although the US Dallas division lacked this cool and sophisticated style . I really had no idea how serious this was, and honestly, had blocked it out of my mind so I don't know. I didn't want to think of myself as a criminal, and hated the concept. I wished I had been strong enough to face my fears and tell Dan back then and file to get my paperwork situated when I was first old enough to do it. I had been so scared to take this on, so I hid it well. I craved to be a normal US citizen and dreamed of being born here. But now - I felt weaker than ever, and filled with regret.
My sister stayed in Haskell for almost a month. My mom came to stay with us for a week and help translate all of the departure paperwork needed - which was actually deportation proceedings. For some reason ICE gave us this paperwork in original Serbian Cyrillic which even mom could hardly depict. Steve was flipping out and very nervous, as he was jobless and without his future wife in a short week.We prayed and prayed and trusted that God had a bigger plan than what we could see and know. One good thing that happened was that my mom's cousin who she had spoken to since we have been in the States, came to visit during this time and help and support us. It was a very wonderful reunion with Gordanana (as my son Gabriel called her)! My sister called when allowed but the trembling and fear in her voice made us even more aware of how proactive we had to be and how urgent our prompt cooperation. The women in my sister's cell did not have the support system she did, to help give them hope of being released to their families anytime soon. One woman was taken from her newborn baby and one while on her way back to her country of origin. I cannot help but think there has to be a better way to document people who want to be here and become Americans one day and set them apart from those who have come to abuse the system, commit crime, with no loyalty or dedication to this great land.
Because of much help from our friends and family, who contacted politicians on our behalf, Jelena was released. It could have been the "temp" lawyer's help who was working on her behalf for this short time, but we do not think so. Nevertheless, our lives returned to normal with a few minor adjustments. We both were placed on the surveillance system as I described before, and this became a part of life for us. We checked in to the ICE office whenever scheduled, as well as making our appointments with G4S. Meanwhile, our lawyer was working hard to create a possibility as with our mom, and obtain permanent residency for us. Since Jelena and Steve had planned a wedding in June, with this major upset, the plans were changed. Our lawyer told them they had to get married as soon as possible so he can continue to work on her behalf and have hopes of it turning positive. The good news was that Jelena was released from Haskell and did not have to get married in an orange jumpsuit. Pastor John Spurling took time out of his busy schedule, on his son's birthday even, to marry my sister and Steve at the Southlake Town-Center, not long after she was released from prison. His commitment to help people and love for others was an amazing example of God's kindness. At the Men's Conference called the Alpha Summit, Dan and Steve went to during this time, the confirmation set, and we began to attend Gateway Church.
Things slowed down, and life went on. Jelena and Steve moved their wedding date at the church, because she still wanted a ceremony, a chance to wear her dress and use the decorations she had already bought. The small ceremony in the gazebo in May included only us and our mom and George. We thought about going ninety miles an hour and keeping the date to June and making it happen, but I think my sister was just exhausted and a wedding ceremony did not have the wondrous appeal as it once did. It was a very weird time in our lives, filled with trials and tests of every kind.
I remember going to see another lawyer in Dallas, Mr. Gary Davis. He met us immediately and was a lot easier to understand than our lawyer, as he is younger and spoke in terms we understood. He explained the entire situation to us, and encouraged us, gave us advice and provided answers to all of our questions. In the end, he never charged us and we are so grateful for his time and effort. We were so amazed by this man after all of our experiences in the past with lawyers who only demand money - there are still a few good men. I would definitely recommend Gary Davis for any immigration needs for anyone in the Dallas/Fort Worth area, and of course G. Wellington Smith in the Austin area.
She stayed at home for the next year planning her wedding as best as she could and I continued home-schooling our kids, and volunteering at church. My husband soon got a permanent job at the Denton County Jail as an officer, and Steve received a new job soon as well, much better than the previous one. Dan still went on his mission trip to Africa, in the fall, even though he was reluctant in doing so, in fears of leaving us for a few weeks. But we had peace about it and knew it was time for him to go and fulfill a prophecy spoken over him some years ago. In the midst of our financial drama, we managed to raise the money with many friends and family members chipping in, including help from our church. We received a lot of support as I knew it was meant to happen. I wish I could have been there with the Kidstand team, but it was not time for me to be loosed out into to the world yet.
We were adjusting to life once again, and soon put all of the craziness behind us, as we planned to receive our green cards within two years. Of course, we put it behind us only as much as we could, because the weekly check-ins, phonecalls, or trips to the ICE office kept us humbled as fugitives in a foreign land. But we kept this stuff to ourselves, and after thanking everyone who supported us on Facebook and so on, we thought we would never have to revisit this mess again. We were just going through required protocol until our lawyer finishes up our case. Even though he thought the reporting and check in's were a bit much, he advised us to comply with everything and just go through it.
Anyway, I told them my story and filled out paperwork, stamped my fingers and all that jazz. I asked them to talk to my lawyer so he can let them know we were underway of getting this taken care of, but they were fed up with speaking with lawyers, I think. I received some paperwork that were to be known as "my papers" from that day on, and I was to carry them with me wherever I went. The paperwork included my rights, picture, fingerprints, etc. I was placed on a monitoring system, through which I had to call weekly on a voice recognition program and report to the office on a regular basis as well. I began to receive home visits so that they were sure I would not leave. Now, we have been in the same house for 13 years, and I was not a threat. I think although this was necessary protocol, it was a waste of taxpayers money - taxpayers, which included us. The company that was outsourced to take care of "watching us" was G4S (Group 4 Securicor http://www.g4s.com/) and it reminded me of the Bourne Identity movies when I looked them up, although the US Dallas division lacked this cool and sophisticated style . I really had no idea how serious this was, and honestly, had blocked it out of my mind so I don't know. I didn't want to think of myself as a criminal, and hated the concept. I wished I had been strong enough to face my fears and tell Dan back then and file to get my paperwork situated when I was first old enough to do it. I had been so scared to take this on, so I hid it well. I craved to be a normal US citizen and dreamed of being born here. But now - I felt weaker than ever, and filled with regret.
My sister stayed in Haskell for almost a month. My mom came to stay with us for a week and help translate all of the departure paperwork needed - which was actually deportation proceedings. For some reason ICE gave us this paperwork in original Serbian Cyrillic which even mom could hardly depict. Steve was flipping out and very nervous, as he was jobless and without his future wife in a short week.We prayed and prayed and trusted that God had a bigger plan than what we could see and know. One good thing that happened was that my mom's cousin who she had spoken to since we have been in the States, came to visit during this time and help and support us. It was a very wonderful reunion with Gordanana (as my son Gabriel called her)! My sister called when allowed but the trembling and fear in her voice made us even more aware of how proactive we had to be and how urgent our prompt cooperation. The women in my sister's cell did not have the support system she did, to help give them hope of being released to their families anytime soon. One woman was taken from her newborn baby and one while on her way back to her country of origin. I cannot help but think there has to be a better way to document people who want to be here and become Americans one day and set them apart from those who have come to abuse the system, commit crime, with no loyalty or dedication to this great land.
Because of much help from our friends and family, who contacted politicians on our behalf, Jelena was released. It could have been the "temp" lawyer's help who was working on her behalf for this short time, but we do not think so. Nevertheless, our lives returned to normal with a few minor adjustments. We both were placed on the surveillance system as I described before, and this became a part of life for us. We checked in to the ICE office whenever scheduled, as well as making our appointments with G4S. Meanwhile, our lawyer was working hard to create a possibility as with our mom, and obtain permanent residency for us. Since Jelena and Steve had planned a wedding in June, with this major upset, the plans were changed. Our lawyer told them they had to get married as soon as possible so he can continue to work on her behalf and have hopes of it turning positive. The good news was that Jelena was released from Haskell and did not have to get married in an orange jumpsuit. Pastor John Spurling took time out of his busy schedule, on his son's birthday even, to marry my sister and Steve at the Southlake Town-Center, not long after she was released from prison. His commitment to help people and love for others was an amazing example of God's kindness. At the Men's Conference called the Alpha Summit, Dan and Steve went to during this time, the confirmation set, and we began to attend Gateway Church.
Things slowed down, and life went on. Jelena and Steve moved their wedding date at the church, because she still wanted a ceremony, a chance to wear her dress and use the decorations she had already bought. The small ceremony in the gazebo in May included only us and our mom and George. We thought about going ninety miles an hour and keeping the date to June and making it happen, but I think my sister was just exhausted and a wedding ceremony did not have the wondrous appeal as it once did. It was a very weird time in our lives, filled with trials and tests of every kind.
I remember going to see another lawyer in Dallas, Mr. Gary Davis. He met us immediately and was a lot easier to understand than our lawyer, as he is younger and spoke in terms we understood. He explained the entire situation to us, and encouraged us, gave us advice and provided answers to all of our questions. In the end, he never charged us and we are so grateful for his time and effort. We were so amazed by this man after all of our experiences in the past with lawyers who only demand money - there are still a few good men. I would definitely recommend Gary Davis for any immigration needs for anyone in the Dallas/Fort Worth area, and of course G. Wellington Smith in the Austin area.
She stayed at home for the next year planning her wedding as best as she could and I continued home-schooling our kids, and volunteering at church. My husband soon got a permanent job at the Denton County Jail as an officer, and Steve received a new job soon as well, much better than the previous one. Dan still went on his mission trip to Africa, in the fall, even though he was reluctant in doing so, in fears of leaving us for a few weeks. But we had peace about it and knew it was time for him to go and fulfill a prophecy spoken over him some years ago. In the midst of our financial drama, we managed to raise the money with many friends and family members chipping in, including help from our church. We received a lot of support as I knew it was meant to happen. I wish I could have been there with the Kidstand team, but it was not time for me to be loosed out into to the world yet.
We were adjusting to life once again, and soon put all of the craziness behind us, as we planned to receive our green cards within two years. Of course, we put it behind us only as much as we could, because the weekly check-ins, phonecalls, or trips to the ICE office kept us humbled as fugitives in a foreign land. But we kept this stuff to ourselves, and after thanking everyone who supported us on Facebook and so on, we thought we would never have to revisit this mess again. We were just going through required protocol until our lawyer finishes up our case. Even though he thought the reporting and check in's were a bit much, he advised us to comply with everything and just go through it.
Monday, March 28, 2011
Pre-Marriage Haskell
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!
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!
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...
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
The Immigrant Stigma and Demoralizaton
From 1985 on, we had to come to grips with some facts about our situation. We were unwanted and illegal aliens. I hated that. Although my dad kept working with the immigration departments in San Antonio, TX to get it all worked out and we are able to remain here legally, the process was surprisingly lengthy and unorganized. We were not allowed to leave the country. I thought about it when my husband (then boyfriend) and I were spending my Senior High-School Spring Break in South Padre. I had that rebellious spirit then, and wanted to cross on over to Mexico just to see what happens. But I got scared, and never ventured south of the border then or ever since. I think the love for travel and seeing the world is embedded in my bones. I feel it. I want to experience life in different cultures and take my family around the world to teach them about life first hand. But to feel like a bird trapped in a cage - although a very big and beautiful cage - it's still crippling. I have missed out on one of my best friend's wedding in Mexico. I have missed out on incentive trips and company trips with my husband. I have missed out on cruise opportunities with my husband. I wanted to go back to where I was born and visit the grandma who raised me as her health is declining. I wanted to show my husband Daniel my place of birth, and the house where I grew up in. I wanted to go back when my grandpa, my hero, died. I could not leave though. If I left, I could not re-enter back for at least ten years or maybe never be able to come back again. And that would have been even worse torture.
I had to come to grips with the fact that we may always live like this. I may always feel unwanted and alienated. But there was an exception to this that I found at a small church we went to for a short while, called Austin Bible Church. My favorite memories during the early years revolved around here as I witnessed something different. The people seemed very nice to us and thus my parents became very involved. We went to the pastor's home for lunches, hung out with the other church leaders as well in their homes and I got a glimpse of community. My mom cooked and baked for the pot-lucks and everyone loved the ethnic foods and praised her for it. I remember pulling up to our apartment door one day and finding bags and bags of groceries in front of our door, with an unanimous note. Some church members bought us a ton of stuff and left it at our door. I did not understand why - were we poor and needed food, or am I witnessing some random act of kindness I am so unaccustomed to? The youth pastor bought a New Testament Bible in Serbian for me so I can understand it better and I read it all the time. He even gave me a really fancy leather-bound Bible in English with my full name inscribed on the front of it, too. I accompanied some kids in decorating the Christmas tree with strung berries and popcorn and I found out what going caroling meant. It was nice. Almost too nice. We stopped going there though, for reasons I don't know, and we were back on our own trying to find community with other Serbian people we have met in the area.
I don't know about other Serbians or Yugoslavians, but in my family there always seemed be an issue with people. I wondered why we had to leave friendships and not talk to people anymore. For example: We met a very nice Serbian family who quickly became our new godparents. They treated us like they knew us for life and we have always been family. We loved each other like family. I loved being in their home because it was beautiful and richly decorated, and they had a pool as well. It made me feel like I had a wealthy family that I could talk about to friends and felt a little bit better about who I was. The family friendship was short lived though and I have not spoken to them in many, many years. My mom has a story here, but maybe one day she can tell it.
So we had no family, no friends, and it seemed there was something so wrong with us; that somehow we had a Scarlett Letter "U" and we were unwanted, untouchable, unemployed, un- whatever.... It seemed that all of our problems originated with the immigration situation, and all of our heart's desires were for being accepted as a citizen or permanent resident of this country. If my dad could legally work, he would have a better job in his field of engineering or architecture and we would have more money, a nicer place to live and less stress over how to make bills and pay for food and clothes. If we were legal residents, we would not have to fear being "picked up by the police" all the time and live freely. If we were legal, my parents would fight less and fear less and be less stressful.
I learned English quickly, and read all the time. I became a better speller than most of my friends. I tried to do everything I could, to fit in. I even worked hard to get all A's and get my first crack at designer clothes - stonewashed Guess Jeans. Yeah, buddy. I stayed up late recording top forty songs off the radio on my recorder (yes a recorder) and replayed them back dozens of times until I learned the lyrics. It's so much easier now, jeez. I wanted to be a part of the in-crowd. I wanted to be popular and not feel ashamed for who I was. I battled with self esteem issues and thought of myself in such a negative way. It seemed that in our school, the popular kids had parents who were very involved in their lives. Their parents could afford their designer clothes, cheerleader uniforms and extra curricular activities. My biggest concerns were fitting in and impressing friends at this time. I remember how many times I got in trouble at school just trying to do dumb things to make people laugh. Only to to be liked.
I even thought if I just could get on the cheerleading team maybe I could be a part of the crowd I looked enviously upon. I did not know many gymnastic moves although I tried every day to perfect hand stands and round-offs. I chickened out to try out for cheerleading, but actually showed up to try out for the school mascot instead. This ended as I was only told my behavior was so out of hand and I had too many "E's" (I think that was the letter for misbehaving on the report cards then) that I had to leave. This scarred me as well, and now I was through with trying to overachieve and be involved. I wanted to hide even more.
My parents used to be very involved when I was younger in Yugoslavia, and I missed that. My mom was now forced to work two jobs just to provide the basics for us and did not understand to speak or read and write in English. My mom tried going to night classes to learn English, but they began to interfere with her job schedule so she quit. Also, I think they were too hard, and overwhelming, and she had no assistance. Shortly after we came here, my mom began working odd and end jobs, like stuffing envelopes, counting metal tidbits for some machines, and babysitting our neighbor's son. During my middle school years, my mom worked full time at K-Mart and in the evenings at a local grocery chain, HEB, as a bagger. I hardly ever saw her because she worked two jobs for most of her life to make sure we had what we needed. I was left to take care of my sister, and I resented being an overseer, since I was not ready to give up my childhood yet. And this is how my intense decline in morality and my behavior began.
I was ashamed of our heritage and even wanted my dad to drop me off far from the school so I was not seen getting out of the brown Gremlin and with him. He has a very dark complexion, like me, and everyone thought he was of Middle Eastern or Hispanic descent. So then naturally, most people thought the same of me. So now not only was I ashamed of my own heritage, but ashamed of being Hispanic or Middle Eastern too, even though I'm not! I wanted us all to be a light skinned, light-eyed Americans! Isn't it funny how we think we know best about how we should look and try so hard to be someone we were not made to be? I used to be embarrassed when my mom spoke to me in Yugoslavian in public, and when my friends came over. I just wanted to be "normal." I refused to speak Serbian and even answered my mom back in English or pretended I didn't understand her. I got pretty good at this, that one day I woke up and truly could not communicate. I had forgotten to speak in Serbian, and even though I may have acted proud of this, deep inside I knew I was sorry. We try to hide from who we are, and many times go to extreme measures to achieve this, but eventually we are found. One way or another, we cannot escape from who were created to be.
Why could not my dad make more money and have a better paying job? I did not understand. Although he always seemed busy and working, going on business trips and such, we never seemed to have enough money. A struggle began in my life against money at this time, and money won. I became a slave to it and succumbed to the love of it. I wanted to have the lives of my friends' and envied them. I blamed the American government for my poor life, although I always had enough food, clothing, and a roof over my head. I suppose I learned the need for more, and began to compare with the Joneses, the Smiths, the Williams', and even the Rodriguez'. Comparing with others is a HUGE mistake for anyone, but one very easy to make.
I understood now about social security cards and work authorizations. Although we had legal social security numbers and cards, there was an imprint on them that they were only allowed for work in conjunction with a work authorization card. Somehow, when my mom applied for jobs, this part was overlooked. But
with my dad, shortly after the initial hire, the employer found out he was working on a short term authorization card, and my dad would be let go. Maybe it was because his positions were paid more. Back then it was not cool and sought after to hire contractors and foreigners. My dad's experience in many types of engineering, architecture, teaching, and even soccer refereeing was reduced to him working at Home Depot for a while, restaurants as a dish-washer, even Pottery Barn and K-Mart as a stocker and clerk. All these jobs were short lived and my dad's credit took a nosedive. His demeanour changed, and he became disillusioned with the American Dream. He drank more, smoked more, and went out often. We have come to know what debt is and our family was plagued with it. His expensive suits were replaced with jeans and free, event t-shirts. He no longer even went out to expensive restaurants and hotels to sit and pretend this was the life he should be living. He stopped taking photographs. He took his lot in life. He was an unwanted illegal, unable to produce a lasting legacy of any kind for his family. His venture for a better life backfired. His life was wasting away before him, he had no hope of retaining a job, and he gave up. It has been so hard on my sister and I to watch and witness the decline of our family.
There are so many factors that contributed to my parents separation. I can speculate on what really did it, but to say that they were not happy would be an understatement. It oozed out of their pores. After many back and forth attempts, my parents finally divorced. The thought of a new baby even came about, but my little brother died shortly before his time to be born. The ordeals which happened around this time can be summed up in their own book. It felt like there was something missing from the equation, a common thread that could bring my family together in diversity instead of us facing it alone and breaking apart during the sufferings and trials. We had lost hope.
My parents became scared that while in the deportation process that we have been in since our visas expired, we would get "picked up" and deported. My sister and I have feared this so much, that our hair rose up and our stomachs turned at every corner. When we heard the sirens of even ambulance or fire trucks, we assumed it was the police coming to get us. We had no idea what we have done, just believed that for some reason we were bad and unwanted so we had to "keep it on the down-low." We lived in fear as did my parents. As I grew up and had my brush in with the police with many speeding tickets and such, the rebellion in me caused the attitude of "you don't scare me." I developed somewhat of a hatred for the law as did my sister. My sister was so little at the time though, that the fear really injected itself in her and she has spent most of her life afraid of being arrested, publicly humiliated, and detained. I will later write about how this came to pass just like that - in 2009.
The facts I knew of about my immigration situation I hid from everyone I knew. I had become so hardened by now that I think I lived in a disillusioned world in which I was a permanent resident. I was an all-American party girl, with a leather jacket, Marlboro's, and a kick-butt attitude. By high-school, I had blended in pretty well, and all I had to occasionally answer was that I was not of Hispanic descent. One man even got angry with me because I did not understand when he spoke Spanish to me, and cursed at me saying I was denying my heritage and should be ashamed. I laughed and told everyone, and found comfort in the fact that all I had to do was prove I was not Hispanic.
I even hid my shame from my Daniel. I met Dan after moving back to Texas, and we began dating when I was 16. I never talked about immigration with him, and although we kept everything - and I mean everything- in the open about what happens with us, I kept this secret from him. I married Daniel and hid this even then. I guess I lied from the beginning when we initially talked about it, or maybe it was that he heard me tell others, I don't remember. We never discussed it for some reason, and that was okay with me. It was too late to talk about it years later, so I just kept on hiding my past, and putting covers on the roots of rejection. I began to forget why I would get so angry at times and jealous of others. I completely forgot why I felt such a huge weight of shame over me, and usually blamed it on alcohol and such.
Years have passed, and I wanted nothing to do with immigration. I didn't want to hear the word, talk about deporting, immigrants, foreigners, even other countries. I was done and so rebellious at this time that anger spewed out at the most inopportune times. I held resentment and downright animosity against America although I did not want to and hid it out of embarrassment. I wanted to be a part of this country, be accepted, and wanted. I wanted to love it like so many patriots including my husband and his family. I acted as if I did, but there was so much hurt that I could not deny.
I had to come to grips with the fact that we may always live like this. I may always feel unwanted and alienated. But there was an exception to this that I found at a small church we went to for a short while, called Austin Bible Church. My favorite memories during the early years revolved around here as I witnessed something different. The people seemed very nice to us and thus my parents became very involved. We went to the pastor's home for lunches, hung out with the other church leaders as well in their homes and I got a glimpse of community. My mom cooked and baked for the pot-lucks and everyone loved the ethnic foods and praised her for it. I remember pulling up to our apartment door one day and finding bags and bags of groceries in front of our door, with an unanimous note. Some church members bought us a ton of stuff and left it at our door. I did not understand why - were we poor and needed food, or am I witnessing some random act of kindness I am so unaccustomed to? The youth pastor bought a New Testament Bible in Serbian for me so I can understand it better and I read it all the time. He even gave me a really fancy leather-bound Bible in English with my full name inscribed on the front of it, too. I accompanied some kids in decorating the Christmas tree with strung berries and popcorn and I found out what going caroling meant. It was nice. Almost too nice. We stopped going there though, for reasons I don't know, and we were back on our own trying to find community with other Serbian people we have met in the area.
I don't know about other Serbians or Yugoslavians, but in my family there always seemed be an issue with people. I wondered why we had to leave friendships and not talk to people anymore. For example: We met a very nice Serbian family who quickly became our new godparents. They treated us like they knew us for life and we have always been family. We loved each other like family. I loved being in their home because it was beautiful and richly decorated, and they had a pool as well. It made me feel like I had a wealthy family that I could talk about to friends and felt a little bit better about who I was. The family friendship was short lived though and I have not spoken to them in many, many years. My mom has a story here, but maybe one day she can tell it.
So we had no family, no friends, and it seemed there was something so wrong with us; that somehow we had a Scarlett Letter "U" and we were unwanted, untouchable, unemployed, un- whatever.... It seemed that all of our problems originated with the immigration situation, and all of our heart's desires were for being accepted as a citizen or permanent resident of this country. If my dad could legally work, he would have a better job in his field of engineering or architecture and we would have more money, a nicer place to live and less stress over how to make bills and pay for food and clothes. If we were legal residents, we would not have to fear being "picked up by the police" all the time and live freely. If we were legal, my parents would fight less and fear less and be less stressful.
I learned English quickly, and read all the time. I became a better speller than most of my friends. I tried to do everything I could, to fit in. I even worked hard to get all A's and get my first crack at designer clothes - stonewashed Guess Jeans. Yeah, buddy. I stayed up late recording top forty songs off the radio on my recorder (yes a recorder) and replayed them back dozens of times until I learned the lyrics. It's so much easier now, jeez. I wanted to be a part of the in-crowd. I wanted to be popular and not feel ashamed for who I was. I battled with self esteem issues and thought of myself in such a negative way. It seemed that in our school, the popular kids had parents who were very involved in their lives. Their parents could afford their designer clothes, cheerleader uniforms and extra curricular activities. My biggest concerns were fitting in and impressing friends at this time. I remember how many times I got in trouble at school just trying to do dumb things to make people laugh. Only to to be liked.
I even thought if I just could get on the cheerleading team maybe I could be a part of the crowd I looked enviously upon. I did not know many gymnastic moves although I tried every day to perfect hand stands and round-offs. I chickened out to try out for cheerleading, but actually showed up to try out for the school mascot instead. This ended as I was only told my behavior was so out of hand and I had too many "E's" (I think that was the letter for misbehaving on the report cards then) that I had to leave. This scarred me as well, and now I was through with trying to overachieve and be involved. I wanted to hide even more.
My parents used to be very involved when I was younger in Yugoslavia, and I missed that. My mom was now forced to work two jobs just to provide the basics for us and did not understand to speak or read and write in English. My mom tried going to night classes to learn English, but they began to interfere with her job schedule so she quit. Also, I think they were too hard, and overwhelming, and she had no assistance. Shortly after we came here, my mom began working odd and end jobs, like stuffing envelopes, counting metal tidbits for some machines, and babysitting our neighbor's son. During my middle school years, my mom worked full time at K-Mart and in the evenings at a local grocery chain, HEB, as a bagger. I hardly ever saw her because she worked two jobs for most of her life to make sure we had what we needed. I was left to take care of my sister, and I resented being an overseer, since I was not ready to give up my childhood yet. And this is how my intense decline in morality and my behavior began.
I was ashamed of our heritage and even wanted my dad to drop me off far from the school so I was not seen getting out of the brown Gremlin and with him. He has a very dark complexion, like me, and everyone thought he was of Middle Eastern or Hispanic descent. So then naturally, most people thought the same of me. So now not only was I ashamed of my own heritage, but ashamed of being Hispanic or Middle Eastern too, even though I'm not! I wanted us all to be a light skinned, light-eyed Americans! Isn't it funny how we think we know best about how we should look and try so hard to be someone we were not made to be? I used to be embarrassed when my mom spoke to me in Yugoslavian in public, and when my friends came over. I just wanted to be "normal." I refused to speak Serbian and even answered my mom back in English or pretended I didn't understand her. I got pretty good at this, that one day I woke up and truly could not communicate. I had forgotten to speak in Serbian, and even though I may have acted proud of this, deep inside I knew I was sorry. We try to hide from who we are, and many times go to extreme measures to achieve this, but eventually we are found. One way or another, we cannot escape from who were created to be.
Why could not my dad make more money and have a better paying job? I did not understand. Although he always seemed busy and working, going on business trips and such, we never seemed to have enough money. A struggle began in my life against money at this time, and money won. I became a slave to it and succumbed to the love of it. I wanted to have the lives of my friends' and envied them. I blamed the American government for my poor life, although I always had enough food, clothing, and a roof over my head. I suppose I learned the need for more, and began to compare with the Joneses, the Smiths, the Williams', and even the Rodriguez'. Comparing with others is a HUGE mistake for anyone, but one very easy to make.
I understood now about social security cards and work authorizations. Although we had legal social security numbers and cards, there was an imprint on them that they were only allowed for work in conjunction with a work authorization card. Somehow, when my mom applied for jobs, this part was overlooked. But
with my dad, shortly after the initial hire, the employer found out he was working on a short term authorization card, and my dad would be let go. Maybe it was because his positions were paid more. Back then it was not cool and sought after to hire contractors and foreigners. My dad's experience in many types of engineering, architecture, teaching, and even soccer refereeing was reduced to him working at Home Depot for a while, restaurants as a dish-washer, even Pottery Barn and K-Mart as a stocker and clerk. All these jobs were short lived and my dad's credit took a nosedive. His demeanour changed, and he became disillusioned with the American Dream. He drank more, smoked more, and went out often. We have come to know what debt is and our family was plagued with it. His expensive suits were replaced with jeans and free, event t-shirts. He no longer even went out to expensive restaurants and hotels to sit and pretend this was the life he should be living. He stopped taking photographs. He took his lot in life. He was an unwanted illegal, unable to produce a lasting legacy of any kind for his family. His venture for a better life backfired. His life was wasting away before him, he had no hope of retaining a job, and he gave up. It has been so hard on my sister and I to watch and witness the decline of our family.
There are so many factors that contributed to my parents separation. I can speculate on what really did it, but to say that they were not happy would be an understatement. It oozed out of their pores. After many back and forth attempts, my parents finally divorced. The thought of a new baby even came about, but my little brother died shortly before his time to be born. The ordeals which happened around this time can be summed up in their own book. It felt like there was something missing from the equation, a common thread that could bring my family together in diversity instead of us facing it alone and breaking apart during the sufferings and trials. We had lost hope.
My parents became scared that while in the deportation process that we have been in since our visas expired, we would get "picked up" and deported. My sister and I have feared this so much, that our hair rose up and our stomachs turned at every corner. When we heard the sirens of even ambulance or fire trucks, we assumed it was the police coming to get us. We had no idea what we have done, just believed that for some reason we were bad and unwanted so we had to "keep it on the down-low." We lived in fear as did my parents. As I grew up and had my brush in with the police with many speeding tickets and such, the rebellion in me caused the attitude of "you don't scare me." I developed somewhat of a hatred for the law as did my sister. My sister was so little at the time though, that the fear really injected itself in her and she has spent most of her life afraid of being arrested, publicly humiliated, and detained. I will later write about how this came to pass just like that - in 2009.
The facts I knew of about my immigration situation I hid from everyone I knew. I had become so hardened by now that I think I lived in a disillusioned world in which I was a permanent resident. I was an all-American party girl, with a leather jacket, Marlboro's, and a kick-butt attitude. By high-school, I had blended in pretty well, and all I had to occasionally answer was that I was not of Hispanic descent. One man even got angry with me because I did not understand when he spoke Spanish to me, and cursed at me saying I was denying my heritage and should be ashamed. I laughed and told everyone, and found comfort in the fact that all I had to do was prove I was not Hispanic.
I even hid my shame from my Daniel. I met Dan after moving back to Texas, and we began dating when I was 16. I never talked about immigration with him, and although we kept everything - and I mean everything- in the open about what happens with us, I kept this secret from him. I married Daniel and hid this even then. I guess I lied from the beginning when we initially talked about it, or maybe it was that he heard me tell others, I don't remember. We never discussed it for some reason, and that was okay with me. It was too late to talk about it years later, so I just kept on hiding my past, and putting covers on the roots of rejection. I began to forget why I would get so angry at times and jealous of others. I completely forgot why I felt such a huge weight of shame over me, and usually blamed it on alcohol and such.
Years have passed, and I wanted nothing to do with immigration. I didn't want to hear the word, talk about deporting, immigrants, foreigners, even other countries. I was done and so rebellious at this time that anger spewed out at the most inopportune times. I held resentment and downright animosity against America although I did not want to and hid it out of embarrassment. I wanted to be a part of this country, be accepted, and wanted. I wanted to love it like so many patriots including my husband and his family. I acted as if I did, but there was so much hurt that I could not deny.
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