[Here's Deportation Part 1. Probably pretty important to read so you can pick up with us today.]

So after Richard is convinced that my flatmate’s phone number is a fake, he asks for another number. I give him the pastor’s phone number. At this point, it’s been about 25 minutes and Richard had fully interrogated me about everything under the Scottish sun.

My spirit inside me is praying like crazy. To be blunt, this didn’t feel like a natural thing… it felt supernatural. It felt spiritual. The Bible says that our battle is not against flesh and blood [and grumpy Richard]… so I began to pray that God would win this battle and allow me into the country.

As Richard left to go call the pastor, I sat down in a chair. And I had a Blazing Furnace conversation with God.

I said,

“Hey God, just like Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego, I know what You are able to do. I know You can rescue me from this situation. I know You are able to save me from deportation. I don’t think I’m done here in Edinburgh. BUT EVEN IF YOU DON’T, even if I get sent home today, I’m not mad. I will still praise You. I have still loved my time here and I am still grateful.”

I know that sounds sugar sweet and whatever, but it wasn’t. I said it through gritted teeth and with a begging heart. It was a painful tearful moment alone in an airport. I didn’t want to leave Edinburgh. But what else could I do?

I can barely hear Richard on the phone, but his voice is angry. And now I’m SURE I’m going home. [Here's where Richard earned the name on his nametag.... he said untrue things to the pastor to try to trick him - he made the pastor believe I had said things that I hadn't said. Pastor told the truth. I told the truth. But Richard tried to trap us.]

I get it. I’m not mad. His JOB is to protect his country from dangerous people. And truthfully, it’s sweet innocent women like me that can be the really nasty ones. So Richard, bless him, was just doing his job.

When he came back from the phone call, probably 15 minutes later, his demeanor totally changed. [Insert miracle here.] He spoke kindly to me, he slowly explained why I should be deported and every reason that the right thing to do was to deport me, and then he said, “but I’m going to let you stay.”

And I almost fell on the floor with relief.

The Lord had done it. The warring angels, I believe, defeated that which tried to keep me out of the country. I don’t know if you’ve been in a situation like that, but I’m telling y’all, the atmosphere changed. No joke. I knew that the battle had been fought and I knew it had been won.

[Also, at the point, pastor and his wife and others they told were praying like CRAZYTOWN, so it certainly wasn't just me.]

Richard did, however, put a massive stamp in my passport that makes it illegal for me to go back to the UK until mid-2012. So he didn’t let me leave without a little hand slap.

Touche, Richard. Touche.

Morals of the story:

1. ALWAYS get a stamp in your passport, even if you are coming home.

2. Flying between European countries is VERY VERY DIFFERENT than traveling between US states.

3. Proverbs 19:21 — “Many are the plans in a man’s heart, but it is the Lord’s purpose that prevails.”

4. That verse would still be 100% true if I got deported.

Amen.

I’ve been strategically waiting until there was no way I would go to jail or be banned from the UK to tell you this story.

I’m thinking that since I’ve been home for one month + one week, now is an okay time.

Thesis statement: In October, Scotland tried to deport me.

Supporting details:

If you’ll recall, during the latter half of October, I spent a weekend in Prague with some of my dearest college friends who live there now. These people.

[I didn't do a great job blogging about Prague because it was right smack in the middle of 31 Days of Courage. Forgive me. But I did make a facebook album of pictures. Hopefully that will suffice.]

A simple mistake I made is I thought, “Oh, I’m just hopping to another EU country… no biggie.” So I didn’t bring my folder of paperwork [bank statements, printed flight info, etc.] with me to Prague. It was just a weekend visit between two friendly European countries.

Well, I had a lovely time in Prague and landed back in Edinburgh on Monday night around 9:30pm. There are two lines at customs- EU residents and other. In our entire flight of people, there were only two ‘other’ – me and a blonde gal. The blonde gal went through the line and then it was my turn.

I stepped up to the gentleman at customs. We’re gonna call him Richard. I’m not going to actually call him by the name on his nametag because a) you wouldn’t believe me and b) it is a cuss word and you’ll think he totally earned the nickname. Anyways, Richard.

Richard looks through my stuff and says, “How long have you been in the UK?”

I say, “Since July.” Which is a totally true and perfectly legal answer.

See, there is a rule that you can be a tourist for up to 6 months out of a 12 month period without having a visa. Since I was only going to be in Scotland 5 months and 28 days, I did not have a visa.

He shows me on my passport that back in February, when I returned from my month in the UK, I did not get a stamp on my passport saying I landed in Atlanta.

So pretty much, it looks like I’ve been living in Scotland without a visa since January [because I have an entrance to the UK stamp in January and an entrance stamp in July, but no exit stamp.]

Not good, my people. Not good.

Richard says, “I’m sorry. But I’m going to have to send you back.”

And I’m like, “BACK!!?? I WASN’T EVEN HOME! I WAS JUST IN PRAGUE FOR THE WEEKEND! I HAVEN’T BEEN IN AMERICA SINCE JULY! BUT I WAS IN AMERICA IN JULY! I HAVE A FLAT FULL OF STUFF AND I DON’T KNOW HOW MY FLATMATES WILL PACK IT ALL AND I AM ALLOWED TO BE HERE AND PLEASE DON’T SEND ME TO AMERICA TONIGHT!”

I panicked.

Then he asked to see my paperwork [yep, the paperwork I mentioned above that I didn't have].

Then he asked for details of what I would be doing every.single.day. for the last four weeks of my time there. I answered with a shaky voice.

Then he asked for my flatmate’s phone number.

He tried to call her and for some unknown reason, it wouldn’t go through.

So he comes back to me and says, “Ms. Downs, that is a fake number and both you and I know it. Please give me a real number of someone I can reach.”

[PS- he copied my flatmate's number OUT OF MY PHONE so obviously, it is the same one I used every day. Crazy stuff.]

At this point, I am sweating like I’ve run a half-marathon, I can’t exactly breathe, and I’m shaking like a polaroid picture because I am working through in my mind what happens to a person when they get deported.

Because Richard is about to deport me. For realz.

to be continued…..

I’m thankful to be home. Thankful for my family and friends. Thankful for Chick-fil-A and bizarrely warm weather in Georgia.

I’m thankful for Edinburgh. I’m thankful for lifelong friends on the other side of the Atlantic. I’m thankful for Crossroads Church and the people there.

I’m thankful that God is near, that His ways always win, and that He dreams bigger than I can.

Happy Thanksgiving.

All my bags are packed, I’m ready to go. I’m standing here, outside your door.

No, no I’m not. Unless you live on my street in Edinburgh.

The suitcases are ready, the carry-on is ready, my hair is clean and I’m headed to the airport in just a bit. [Your prayers for a safe flight, easy connection, luggage arrival, and a calm spirit are all appreciated.]

But I have to tell you. I’m leaving some items here in Scotland. I’m going to plant them all together and see if an Annie tree grows.

[That sentence has made me laugh from the moment it started forming in my mind until now, when the humor should have passed.]

Seriously, though. I’m leaving some things behind. So as an homage to my possessions, I am going to show you these things now.

. . . . .

Item #1 : Target shirt with holes in it.

Truth of the matter is I should NOT be wearing clothes with holes. For Pete’s sake, I’m 31 years old, not a ten year old child who gets her clothes torn on tree limbs while climbing. So I am leaving this shirt here, Scotland, because I need to grow up. [Confession: this is the SECOND shirt with holes that I am throwing away. Embarrassing.]

Item #2 : Black Jeggings

To keep all of our dignities in tact, I’m going to tell this story as plain and simple as possible. I love these black jeggings [also from Target]. They are my favorite trousers. Edinburgh, the beautiful pedestrian city that is it, requires me to walk a lot. Like, A LOT. And sometimes, when you wear jeggings and walk a lot, there are consequences of the ripping kind. Ladies, are ya with me? So. The jeggings can no longer be worn, thus their abandonment. Au revoir, lovely jeggings. Thanks for the memories.

Item #3 : Two pair of Old Navy Jeans

It’s been a good season for me, y’all. Eating at home. Walking a lot. Being intentional to be as healthy as possible. So happy happy joy joy I get to leave these jeans here. I mean, they still fit sorta in that baggy-wanna-be-a-rapper kind of way. But I quit going for that look in about 1998. [Also, hopefully by leaving them here, I will refrain from "maturing" into that size again.]

Item #4 : Discover card

I am super-dee-duper close to getting out of debt. So, to ensure I don’t roll back into that slop, I’ve cut this puppy up and spread the pieces throughout trash cans in my flat. I’m not one to say that YOU can’t have a credit card – I’m not the boss of you – I’ve just “discovered”  that I don’t need easy access to money I don’t have. I want to live a debt-free lifestyle and it starts with chopped plastic. [And don't you judge me for my American flag design. I'm patriotic.]

Item #5 : Dumb Green Umbrella

It hasn’t always been a dumb umbrella. It’s just an old soul and has broken wings a-plenty. I used it for the entire five months I’ve lived here because I believe in pinching pence and there was no reason to buy a new one when this one works decently. But, within the last week, the wings have refused to cooperate, so this umbrella goes to Scottish Umbrella Heaven today… also known as the dumpster on my street.

Item #6: Beautiful Sequined Shoes

This is a real tear-jerker. I remember the day I bought these shoes and wore them to watch my friend’s husband coach middle school football. They’ve also seen glitz and glamour as my shoe of choice for the 2010 Grammy Awards in Los Angeles. But they have run their course. The sequins have fallen off in many places and the multiple wears on rainy days has caused them to draw, ahem, a little attention to themselves [in the scent department]. It is with the heaviest of hearts that I leave these beauts behind. I love you, shoes. And I always will.

Dishonorable mention goes to my H&M purse. The strap broke when I was here in February so I got it fixed in Nashville in the spring. The strap broke again in October and I binned that sucker faster than you can say CHEAP PLEATHER.

. . . . .

Somehow, by Mary-Poppins-like magic, all my other pieces of personal property have made it into a suitcase, with a few additions [thanks to the loss of weight from these items as well as the toiletries I brought in July and used up].

And the next time you hear from me, I’ll be on American soil!

Goodbye, Edinburgh. I love you like whoa.

These days are weird.

There seem to be lasts popping up all over Edinburgh. My last lunch at Potterrow on the University of Edinburgh campus. My last ride on Bus 23. My last coffee hang out with the girls. My last Tuesday. My last Wednesday.

Last.

Last.

Last.

Tonight is my last Gathering at Crossroads Edinburgh.

Here’s what. I don’t know how to say what I’m feeling, hence the reason this bloggy world is a little quiet on my end. I’ve been doing a lot of reading, specifically Re-Entry: Making the Transition from Missions to Life at Home. So hopefully all the stuff that is swirling on the inside [but staying there] has purpose and will keep me from being a total nutcase in Nashville when I’m home.

I’m not heartbreakingly devastated. I’m not crying constantly.

I’m not thrilled. I’m not excited.

I’m just quiet.

[Which, of the five options listed above, is absolutely the LEAST likely.]

So I ask for your patience and your understanding as I live in a constant flow of lasts for the next few days. Before I know it, Monday will be here and it will be my last last of Edinburgh.

There’s a season for everything, right?

[Including me being quiet. Apparently. Weird.]

Thanks for your prayers!

I have a tiny window of time to pop in and say HI and THANKS and I’M POOPED and I’M SO PUMPED, so….

Hi. Thanks. I’m pooped. I’m so pumped- the team was great fun, our students loved it, and the chili was delicious.

Here are all the pictures from last night- peruse and enjoy. [There are multiple views of me being bossy. No one is shocked.]

My favorite picture? Well, I like this one because everyone is so happy and mingle-ish.

But I also love this one because gracious, we have got some good people in our church. And I’d rather not discuss the fact that I’m leaving in approximately ten days and this will not be my life anymore and it feels weirder than I ever imagined.

There are about 25 others that are my favorite moments from last night. So, just check out the album.

Thanks again for your prayers. We had a ball… or we had a bowl?

You’re welcome.

It’s been a crazy few weeks, but whoa.oh.whoa today is the winner of them all.

I’m really excited about it- I love chili, I love competitions, I love when all our Crossroads students get together and bring their friends. And I LOVE that the American football team from Napier University is coming to judge the cook-off. [Read: must. make. lots. of. chili. for. big. boys.]

Which, by the way, I must confess- I just tasted my chili and my.word. If I could put that flavor on EHarmony, I’d have a lot of fellas knockin’ on my door. Or sending me an email. Whatevs.

Back to the chili cook-off.

All the emotions that party planners have, I am having : excited, nervous, happy, stressed, deeply angry [not really. exactly... just more extended stress]. I had one of those nights last night where I laid in bed and right as I would fall asleep, my brain would think of another thing for the to-do list.

Do you have a nametag plan?

What if there isn’t enough chili?

Take the sharpies back to the office tomorrow.

Text that girl and that guy to make sure they remember the supplies they are supposed to bring.

So pretty much, I’m running on 3.5 hours of sleep, a long to-do list, and a no water soy chai latte, extra hot.

It’ll all work out. It always does. And I spent the morning in the office getting everything ready….

[those actually will connect... hence the two green leaf halves]

[You can take the teacher out of the school, but you can't take the school-like crafting out of the teacher.]

Melissa and I went and passed out flyers and hung up signs earlier this week…. we were proud of ourselves, so I took a picture. She’s the cutest.

Tonight is exciting for a lot of reasons…. the friendships, the football team, the chili, the outreach, all of it.

Would you pray for us tonight? Pray that people would come, that their hearts would be open, that all the details would fall into place, that it will be a night FULL of fun and ease and connections and that many would come back!

[For your personal knowledge, I've added two things to my to-do list since starting this post. Wowsa.]

When I’m not making to-do lists and boiling two pots of chili on the stove and wondering what songs to put on the playlist, I’m thinking about the fact that these kind of events are really amazingly fun.

I’m also thinking how this is my last big hurrah in Edinburgh.

I’m also thinking that I could really use a nap.

. . . . .

Do you have a favorite chili recipe? Or a secret ingredient? 

Two weeks from today, I will wake up and eat breakfast with my family.

In America.

How can that be? Didn’t I JUST get here? These five months have crawled and flown at the same time. But nevermind that. They are over now.

I’m walking around and treating every quiet moment like a scene in a movie that I’m trying to watch and memorize simultaneously. The leaves have mostly fallen and the ones left in the trees here are dark with determination to hang on. The sun sets around 4:30pm and by 6:30pm, it might as well be midnight. I stood on Princes Street last night just after dinner in the deeply dark and cold night and looked up at a cloudless sky. The moon was turned up three notches too bright and I just took it all in. I panned around for a 360° view of my daily landmarks that will be memories too soon.

I don’t know how to do this. How to leave. How to end.

I’m a starter. I like starting things. I don’t like endings… especially when endings come with unknowns and confusion and sadness. Everything changes when I’m home. This chapter of my Edinburgh story ends and I don’t know when the next one gets written. This thing that has been building for the last 11 years, living in Scotland, suddenly is my history instead of my future. I have to leave a community that I love, friendships that I want to maintain, and students that are growing in their faith day by day.

I’m sad to leave.

But turn that Annie-is-sad-to-leave coin over and you see a girl who is READY. FOR. HOME. I miss my family like whoa. I miss Nashville and my friends so much. I’m ready for the upcoming weddings and babies and holidays and all the things that December forward holds. And just to be honest, there are also some serious and heartbreaking things going on in some of my friends’ lives and I just want to be there. I want to cook and hug and sit and just be in the same room as the hurting ones.

I told my friend Hannah over chai this morning that I never want to leave Edinburgh… and I want to leave right now.

So as you can imagine, my insides are completely confused.

I think this is living. Hurting. Leaving. Returning. Rejoicing. Mix it all in a bowl carved out of grace and somehow, you survive.

Days like today I am deeply grateful for eternity, where time and distance and separation will be things we barely remember from before forever. I long for the day when my friends will all be within reach and my heart will be reunited- unlike now, where one jaggedly ripped half lives on each side of the Atlantic.