Unplanned and Unexpected (My Pandemic Story)- Part 2

 ....continued from previous post (Check out Part 1)

After being "trapped" Stateside for two hundred days due to the pandemic, I decided I would spend my last night at a friend's house in Virginia. I would be flying out of Norfolk, VA and my flight was scheduled to leave at 7am. The night before my flight it started to rain… and it rained… and it rained… and it rained. When we awoke in the morning, there was widespread flooding throughout the Hampton Roads area.

When we left the house that morning at 4:30am to head to the airport, we didn’t realize the extent of the flooding, until we decided to detour around one of the tunnels and cut through a low-lying neighborhood. As we saw the water covering the roadway, we thought it was just a little water so we continued on through… but the water got deeper… and deeper… and as we looked ahead we saw cars stranded ahead of us in the water. My friend stopped her car and wanted to turn around. I quickly realized that that was not an option as there were cars behind us and the water was deeper on the edges of the roadway. I encouraged my friend to keep moving forward all though I honestly wasn’t sure it was the right decision.

My AWESOME friend

She started to pray out loud as we inched deeper into the water. I joined her in prayer. As we moved forward, the water got deeper. As the water got deeper. we prayed louder.

I was sure the water was going to start coming in the bottom of the doors as I watched the cars in front of us. There were cars stalling all around us, and I began to doubt that I would be making it to the airport. I began to think that I would not make it home, that I would be delayed… again. I began to feel something like a righteous anger rise up in me, and I felt an urge to pray against this hinderance and declare that THIS WOULD NOT DETER ME.

As we turned off the main road and onto a side road, waves of water were surrounding the car. The engine started to sputter and I kept telling my friend to “stay on the gas”. “I am. I am. The car is dying,” she replied. We kept praying as I felt the car slow. No. No. This is not how this story ends. I cannot miss this flight. I had been stranded in the United States for 200 days, and I was not waiting another day to go home. We continued to pray. We could see the entrance to the interstate ahead. Should we get on the interstate? I was worried about getting on the interstate and the car dying in the tunnel. How would we get help if we were in the tunnel? The car continued to move slowly forward as the lights and alarms sounded on the dashboard and I held my breath.

I encouraged my friend to pull into a gas station near the entrance to the interstate. We pulled in and tried to decide what we would do. We kept praying as I tried to call an Uber or a Lyft but NOTHING was available. No one could get to where we were. I was worried about my friend's car... what kind of damage had we done trying to get through that water? Time continued moving forward, and I was worried about not making it to the airport on time. 

My friend was willing to try to make it to the airport. The entrance to the interstate was close, and there was no flooding on the interstate. In my spirit, I felt an urging to move and go forward. So we decided to take a chance.

As we puttered up the interstate ramp I fought against the idea of being stuck in the tunnel. I prayed against permanent damage to my friend’s car. I prayed that we would make it to the airport. While I was praying, I was reminded of all the times God had protected me over the past five years in Guatemala. I heard Him whisper to my heart “you don’t think I’ve got this?”. I laughed out loud and continued praying as we slowly began to pick up speed.

At the Airport

When we took the exit to the airport, I was laughing, crying, and praying all at the same time. I almost couldn’t believe it when we pulled up in front of the airport and stopped. I had made it to the airport. We drove through a flood, and we made it to the airport.

I unloaded my bags, hugged my friend, and entered the airport crying tears of relief. I continued crying as I checked my bags and realized that I WAS FINALLY GOING HOME.

I cried again in Dallas when I saw the sign that said Guatemala City at my gate.

However, I cried the hardest when after 200 days apart, I walked out of the airport in Guatemala City and into the arms of my husband. I clung to him as the tears of frustration and fear fell all around us. I WAS FINALLY HOME.

REUNITED

200 days apart from my husband. God did so many miracles during those 200 days. He gifted me time with my family. He gifted me memories and experiences that I wouldn’t have had. He put me with the right people at the right time to help me make it through the darkness. He brought me through a flood and protected my friend’s car from ANY damage whatsoever (no lights, no alarms, NOTHING). He strengthened and grew my marriage in ways that I still can’t explain.

But God’s not done yet. It’s November, and we’re still in the midst of this pandemic. There is still uncertainty and darkness lurking all around. BUT… GOD. He has been with us every step of this pandemic… through the joy, through the tears, through the laughter, through the moments when we didn’t think we could take anymore. He will be there tomorrow. We don’t know what tomorrow holds, but He does and HE IS GOOD.

Thank you for taking the time to read my blog. I appreciate your friendship, prayers and support. To find out more about our ministry in Guatemala, check out our website: www.newstrengthgt.com 

-Meaghen

Unplanned and Unexpected (My Pandemic Story) - Part 1

When I traveled to the United States on March 3, 2020, I only planned to stay in the States for three weeks and return home to Guatemala on March 24, 2020. I had no idea that what started as a three-week journey would turn into a two-hundred-day rollercoaster ride of emotions, faith, and personal growth.

Sisters :) 

When the President of Guatemala announced that he would close the borders of the country on March 16, 2020 my husband and I made the decision that I would stay in the United States. My husband, my home, our ministry, and our lives were all left behind in Guatemala. However, we couldn’t imagine that the borders would be closed for more than a month at most. I was staying with my sister in Pennsylvania and helping her and her husband by caring for my two nephews. I didn’t want to leave my sister on such short notice, and at the time most media sites were reporting that COVID-19 was just a “flu-like disease” that wouldn’t have a large impact on the majority.

Slowly the days transformed into weeks. My original flight home was cancelled and rescheduled for May. After hanging up the phone with the airline, panic began to consume me as I felt uncertainty, frustration, and despair swirling around me. The tears came with gasping sobs as I felt trapped and alone. Despite being with my family, I had no “escape”. I couldn’t get home. Leaving the house was dangerous and uncertain as the news reported the latest information on the spread of the virus, and information was constantly changing. It was still too early to understand how the virus spread from person to person and some believed that the virus lived on surfaces for extended times.  

Wearing our "masks" 

I took refuge in prayer, in worship, and in exercise. Each morning I tried to start the day with worship music and stretching. I tried to leave the house in the afternoons to run and hike in the neighborhood surrounding the house.  We had spontaneous dance parties with my nephews and tried to laugh as much as possible. In the midst of the unknown, there were so many moments with my family that served as beacons of hope that kept me moving forward. 

March turned into April, which edged into May. There was still no news of border openings. Each Sunday evening the President of Guatemala would announce the latest policy changes, and each Sunday there was no mention of reopening borders or the airport. Darkness and uncertainty hid at the edges of my emotions and engulfed me in unexpected moments. There was more than one tear-filled phone call between my husband and I during those months expressing frustration and uncertainty. Each time we would listen and attempt to encourage each other in the hopes that we would be reunited shortly.

As May came to a close, my flight was once again cancelled and pushed back into June. Guatemala saw growing unrest as many had been without work for months and subsequently unable to feed their families. Many took to the streets begging for food and necessities at intersections. My husband single-handedly spearheaded and executed a small food distribution through our ministry.

With no news on the border reopening coming out of Guatemala, I decided to relocate to my father’s house in North Carolina. My father lives minutes from the Outer Banks where I grew up. The ocean has always been a place of healing for me, and if I couldn’t go home to Guatemala I wanted to be near the ocean.

As summer started on the Outer Banks, I decided to take a side job working retail to keep myself occupied and distracted. June merged into July and with it two more flight cancellations. Each time a flight date would approach, I would try not to get my hopes up. I would watch the Sunday Presidential announcements with hope that this would be the week that the airport would reopen, to be engulfed in despair and uncertainty with the realization that I would not be returning this time. I found myself in tears at work, and more than once in the arms of my supporting coworkers. My coworkers tried to keep my spirits up, and I now know why God placed me in that place during this time.

My Dad

My father and I passed countless hours fishing. During the pandemic, I spent time with my family that I will forever treasure. I poured out my heart in worship and prayer when I felt that I could not handle anymore. God was always faithful in those moments to lift my head, encourage my heart, and bring the comfort I needed. My husband and I continued to share our frustrations, joys, and sorrows in our daily phone calls and messages.

July changed into August and another flight cancellation. Tears poured out as uncertainty once again engulfed me. I began to explore alternative ways to enter Guatemala as the airports in Mexico had never shutdown and I was familiar with the Mexico border crossing. My husband encouraged me to keep waiting as I calculated the risks.

Slowly the whispers started and the news started to trickle in that there was a new date for the airport to reopen. News sources started to pick up the story and began reporting that the airport would reopen September 18, 2020. Guatemala was expected to open it’s borders. I was cautiously optimistic and still remember waiting for that Sunday’s Presidential announcements. There had been potential opening dates in the past and each time, the dates were pushed back. My flight at the time was for September 9^th.  On Sunday, September 6^th, the President announced that they were preparing to open the airport on September 18^th, and if preparations were completed in time they would do so. 

I squealed and jumped and ran through the house celebrating!! "They're going to open the airport! They're going to open the airport!" I yelled.  IT WAS OFFICIAL!! I WAS GOING  HOME.

Keep reading about my crazy journey home in my next post....