Two months after we became engaged, my fiancé returned to
his home country, having completed the studies for which he was in the United
States. At the time, we thought we would only be separated for five months,
because the plan was for me to travel with my parents to his hometown, have the
wedding there, honeymoon in Europe, return to the U.S. for a stateside blessing
ceremony with my extended family and friends, and then return to his country to
live. In December 2019, this seemed like a perfect plan, though not without its
unique stressors. After all, it was basically wedding planning twice with two
different countries, multiple international flights, and moving involved. But
even so, it was a plan we were excited about and happy with.
Less than two weeks after my fiancé returned home, God
provided in a marvelous way, and my fiancé found us a beautiful apartment in a
perfect location at an amazing price. He painstakingly sent me videos and
photos, drew out the floorplan, and sketched maps to show me where it was in
relation to other locations I knew. Once it was purchased, he (and my amazing
in-laws) began preparing the home for us to move into once we were married.
(Apartments there are often purchased rather than rented, which means people
usually take the appliances with them when they move and we would need to buy
all new appliances for the kitchen and laundry plus closet units for the
bedrooms since many apartments, ours included, don’t have built-in closets.
Bottom line—there was a lot of work to do.) Things were falling into place for
us to set up our home in June, and we were eagerly counting down the days until
we became husband and wife.
But then the world shut down, and suddenly our perfect plan
started falling apart. As Covid spread around the world, travel restrictions began
to be implemented, and eventually the country we needed to fly into banned all
non-residents from entering, while my fiancé’s path out was also obstructed as
land borders were closed. It became clear that our wedding day was not going to
be June 27, 2020, and as summer turned into fall we lived in a constant state
of checking the news for any signs of opening, all while trying to be ready to
travel and have a wedding as soon as restrictions were lifted. It was
emotionally exhausting.
For the remainder of 2020, every time there seemed to be
movement towards open borders, we would formulate another “plan B” with new
dates for travel, wedding, blessing ceremony, etc. to the point that we lost
count and eventually joked we were on “plan Z.” It was mentally exhausting. And
as the one-year anniversary of our engagement rolled around in November, we had
the sinking suspicion that we weren’t going to be getting married in 2020 at
all.
We were both feeling the weight of long-distance, the strain
of a seven-hour time difference, and the frustration of trying to make major
decisions with only one to two hours a day to talk, during which times we were
usually tired of staring at a screen. Don’t get me wrong, we were incredibly
thankful for the technology that allowed us to talk and see each other every
day, but it was physically exhausting.
Then out of the blue, my fiancé found out about a special
program that would allow him to apply to cross the closed land borders to be
able to access an airport so he could fly out. It was risky, because there was
always the chance that he could get stuck in the US if the program was suddenly
stopped, but with an unknown period of separation before us, we decided it was
worth the risk to get a moment of reprieve. By God’s grace, he was approved
through the program and within a week was on a plane to the States, where he
was able to stay for a whole month through Christmas and into the new year. It
was just the boost our spirits needed to get us through what would be the most
challenging months yet.
Soon after his return home, one of my fiancé’s first orders
of business was renewing his and his family’s tourist visas to the US, which
were due to expire in March. No visa meant no stateside ceremony and no more
visits should, heaven forbid, our separation be extended even longer. Oftentimes,
this process involves an in-person interview at the US embassy, which is difficult
for my fiancé to access even in “normal” times, given its location. On top of
that, thanks to Covid, a severe backlog existed to the point that interviews
were being scheduled four or five months out. But my fiancé and his family submitted
their applications—my fiancé choosing to be honest about being engaged to an
American, even though that could have complicated matters—and within two weeks they
received word that their visas would be renewed—no interviews required! We were
all stunned and praised God for such abundant favor.
Come March 2021, two months into our second separation, the
country we were trying to get into announced they would be implementing a pilot
program, albeit one with very stringent requirements, to allow tourism to gradually
return to their country. What followed was a period of several weeks in which
stressors seemed to be converging upon us from all directions. Family matters,
unwelcome travel requirements, eruption of violence, and conflicting information
came in wave after wave, seeming to throw new obstacles up as quickly as ones were
removed. It was spiritually exhausting, and I think I cried more in those few
weeks than I did in all the weeks of 2020 combined. My fiancé, too, struggled
with being unable to help and comfort in the ways he could if he were present.
It was a rough couple of months.
But eventually, we were in a position to be able to travel,
had booked plane tickets for July 2, had rescheduled everything for the blessing
ceremony to be August 14, and had found a gorgeous venue for the wedding on
July 10 that didn’t even exist back in 2020. It seemed like our wait might
finally be coming to an end. But then, ten days before we were scheduled to
travel, the restrictions were extended indefinitely, and we were right back to square
one. To say it felt defeating is an understatement. After a year and a half of
waiting, we were finally a couple of weeks away from getting married only to be
faced with yet another wait with no end in sight.
During the next two weeks, the roller coaster intensified as
plans changed significantly in quick succession. First, we explored options of
traveling with an approved tourist group. When those fell through, my fiancé’s
family made the decision to travel to the US so that we could keep our (2nd)
original wedding date of July 10, and we started planning a small, private
ceremony to be followed by the already-planned blessing ceremony on August 14.
Within twenty-four hours, we had arranged for a venue, officiant, photographer,
flowers, hair/makeup, etc. and had informed family of the changes. But another
twenty-four hours later, we got word that my fiancé’s family would be unable to
travel due to a medical issue.
I was shell-shocked. I literally wept, and my poor fiancé had
to endure crushing waves of helplessness as he listened to me through the
phone. I don’t think I’ve ever felt such powerful frustration boiling up from my
core as I did then, followed by feelings of complete numbness. What was God
doing? We had been waiting patiently, trusting that He had a plan even when we
couldn’t see what it was. We knew without a doubt that He had brought us
together and that we were supposed to get married, but just when it seemed doors
were opening, they were getting slammed in our faces. Why put us through this
roller coaster? How much more could we take?
After another emotionally exhausting forty-eight hours or
so, we decided to stick with the idea of getting married in the US (which
brought its own risks and grief over what we would lose) and turn the August 14
blessing ceremony into our actual wedding. My fiancé decided to keep his flight
in early-July, so we could be together for the last month of engagement, and we
prayed that land borders would remain open long enough for his family to travel
in August for the wedding. Again, his traveling was risky. What if they grilled
him at passport control about why he was coming? What if they only gave him two
weeks and we had to get married with only my parents there and then be
separated again when he had to return home? “What ifs” had become our constant
companion over the last year and a half, but that didn’t make them any less
burdensome.
But praise be to God, he had the smoothest flight and entry
to the US he has ever had, and they gave him six whole months at passport
control! Once he landed in my city (after a delayed flight from Chicago—because
what’s an extra hour of waiting, right?), the relief started to set in. He was
here. At least we would be able to get married, even if it didn’t happen in the
way we wanted it to. But praise be to God again, his family was able to travel
and be here for the wedding, and God’s love was displayed.
Now that you have the outline of what happened, stay tuned for Part 2 to see the Hope that sustained us, the Hand that upheld us, and the Goodness that guided us each step of the way.
