Military Convoy Part 3

Pulling out of the Villa de Leyva square is a feeling I both will never forget and one that I can't describe fully.  It was dark with a tinge of lightening in the sky as we hit the edge of town.  Looking out the front of the truck all you could see were shadowed mountains and the growth in the high desert.  Out the back of the truck were the silhouettes of the soldiers outlines against the horizon.  The wind was very chilly.  At first we were only going maybe 40, but you could feel the urgency as the large trucks picked up speed on the tiny mountain roads.  The truck was filled with roaring cold air.  For the first half hour it was interesting enough to ignore the cold.  Watching the changing shapes as the sun rose, reflecting on the fact that we were REALLY here.  However, as we rose higher and higher into the mountains the temperature began to drop.  We weren't dressed for this. 

In the front of the truck were three people who will forever hold a special place in my heart.  Where they were from I do not know.  Two young men and a young woman.  For the first extended period of time the men stood at the front of the truck shooting video.  They were quick to smile and enjoying this adventure.  As it got colder and colder they started pulling shirts and other clothing out of their bags.  Wrapping them around the hands of the kids, trying to keep them warm.  Someone found a blanket for the mother with the small infant.  We were in this together.  Everyone was freezing.  Finally, our angels in the front climbed up the wooden slats and untied the tarp.  The wind was held at bay.  The air warmed.  The kids smiled again.  We knew in only awhile we would reach the town where the bus waited.  It was ok.

We reached the city where we believed the bus awaited.  It was still early morning, around 7 am.  As we pulled into town the older gentleman across from me announced our arrival and everyone clapped.  That was it, right?  The hard part was over.  The soldiers called out to raise the tarp.  It was so very cold, but not much more.  As we moved through town we could feel the intensity pick up in the soldiers behind us.  Why? we wondered.  They were focused on the road ahead of us now.  Where was the bus?  As we left the city we all realized the relative comfort of a bus was not to be for us.  So was the small warmth of the tarp.  They wanted to see.  Teeth chattering we looked at our children.  Our friends in the front once again pulled out items from their rucksacks.  Harry, as I would later learn his name, took out a small wooded flute and played bringing small smiles.  Then a tambourine which he passed around for all the kids to try.  After that came small crocheted mice.  Small items they obviously sold to pay for their traveling.  A distraction, no matter how small, to take young minds off the predicament.

Meanwhile on the roads were downed trees, patches of burnt road from previous roadblocks.  At every slowdown the adults looked at each other and at the soldiers, peered around to see if any real danger awaited.  The trucks maintained a very fast speed and then would slam the brakes sending everyone sliding across the benches and floor while they worked their way around these blocks.  The need for fast transit was obvious.

One of the children needed a restroom.  Desperately.  We had reached the point of tears and there would be no more waiting.  As other realized the problem, murmuring turned into a roar of "stop the truck" and "we much stop for the child".  While none liked the idea and the soldiers were very tense, they pulled over.  We rushed to a restroom with significant panic.  What if the left?  Back to the truck we ran.  My feet were barely on the floor when the truck started moving.  As I stumbled back to a seat, patting and reassuring my little one, I prayed, again.

Another few miles, another couple slowdowns and maneuverings.  We reached a small town.  There was a crowd in the road.  Some burning brush.  They held their ground.  At this point, due to our stop, our truck was in the rear.  We rumbled to a stop and saw soldiers getting out in front of us.  They walked toward the crowd with confidence.  As they approached the strikers retreated slowly off the edge of the road.  The soldiers held their position as the trucks moved around the mess in the road.  It was small, they were just getting started, but it was very clear how serious this situation was.  Breath held.

Back on the road for a few more minutes.  In Ubate they stopped and asked everyone if they needed a restroom.  The tension was lessened, we had passed the area they were most concerned with.  They would not allow the tarp to be down despite the frozen and miserable children huddled against us,  but they did allow a blanket to be stretched across the opening on the bottom half.  When we once again started moving it was far from warm, but the windbreak offered some relief.  The older lady in the floor offered peanuts.  Others started to chitchat a bit.  They asked if it was our first time in Colombia, and apologized for the experience.  I responded, truthfully, that we liked Colombia.  The people are amazing.  Our stay in Villa de Leyva was a blessing.  We could live without the evacuation.  Everyone laughed.  Still a couple hours to go.  Cold.  Rough.  Muscles tense.  We would feel this tomorrow. 

Finally we hit the outskirts of Bogota.  Almost there?  Toll booth.  Pulling over.  Why?  Again, Harry leaned out and asked.  A problem on the road.  We have to go around.  A dirt road rutted from heavy use.  Moans as we bounced along, still at a quick speed.  There was no thought to comfort, only getting through.  Thirty minutes and a real road.  Oh, thank you!  How much farther?

I see the sign.  They are taking down the blanket.  We are here.  The truck rolls to a stop.  The soldiers get down and wait to help us jump the 3 feet to the ground.  Our old friend/driver Mauricio is there as promised.  The sun is warm.  We are not.  Harry finds me, asks if we need anything and leaves me his email addy.  They give the kids hugs and fist bumps.  They are our angels on this road out. 

We are exhausted to our bones.  However, as I sit the car heading to the adoption hotel, I can't help reflect of the goodness of the people in our truck.  People coming together.  Sharing, smiling, helping.  Genuine goodness in the midst of stress and worry.  Different languages, different backgrounds, different ideas/beliefs/customs I am sure.  But there, on the road to Bogota, we were friends.  I will always look back at the day with a shake of my head, a furrowed brow due to the memories of what if's.... and a smile because I saw the best in people despite the harshness of circumstances.

....  We finally were able to travel to Duitama Tuesday and file our papers.  It was very very hard on the girls and on me.  Such brokenness in the journey healed so very little at a time.  They told us Duitama has a fast court.  Please pray for that.  I am struggling.  Being away from Brian and the boys, away from everything and everyone.  I try to remind myself that this is NOTHING compared to what the girls are going through as I Skype multiple times a day and facebook, etc. but it is hard.  Really hard.  Our daughters are strong.  I am in awe of them.  The fight can be hard, but they are worth every minute.  Beautiful angels brought to us with God's purpose.  Pray I am headed home with them soon.  We all need it.

Love to you all!