About an hour and a half later the accident cleared and we started again, following a snow plow which created a safe path in front of us to drive on. For a while things went well, until the snowplow stopped, and we had to continue on our own. On we drove through the remote mountains on slippery, snow covered roads, in a vehicle with summer tires. We were praying almost non stop. And constantly in the back of our minds was the thought of that $1700 flight leaving at 6:55 in the morning for which we had no insurance. The road seemed to keep going forever. We hoped to find a taxi with better tires to take us to the border but it was nearly 2 in the morning, and the police man we met told us the chances of finding a taxi out at that time of night in this weather were very slim. We had no choice but to continue. He told us we were not far from the border.
Finally we came to another steep section of road and the car would go no further. We had only one option left. We were on a remote mountainside, in 6 or so inches of snow, it was still falling and it was about 3 in the morning. We got out of the car and started walking, dragging our luggage through the snow behind us, hoping that the border crossing was close. I was in no way prepared for walking in snowy weather, dragging luggage behind me. I had only decided to bring my coat with me at the last minute, not to mention that I wasn’t fully recovered from my sickness. Within a few minutes my feet were soaked, but on we trudged. I felt like I was walking in a dream. Several cars passed, and out of desperation we waved at them to stop. The first two or so passed, but then came a van that stopped, it was as if he had an appointment to pick us up. He had a large van, completely empty, with two extra seats up front, and when we explained our situation he was more than willing to take us the rest of the way to the border. Sashe and Marija said goodbye, and headed back to their car. We continued, in this van, with a complete stranger at 3 in the morning in the snow and cold. I could hardly believe this was really happening to me. I spoke with him in Macedonian at first, and he responded in Bulgarian. In this way it came across that he thought we were Macedonian. When I told him we were actually from America he said, "Oh, well I know English." I thought, "Yes, that would be extremely helpful at this moment." To fill up the silence as we drove, we questioned each other about our occupations, when he learned we are working with a protestant church there was a pause. Then he said, you know there are some people who go to these churches and they are crazy, they’re a little wrong in the head and they say all these !@#$ things. He asked if we were part of one of those churches, I laughed and told him no, but in retrospect, I think we may have been thinking of different things. Oh well, harmony remained between us at any rate.
We came to the border crossing, where the guard was asleep due to the lateness of the hour. Suddenly I realized how suspicious our situation looked and how much of a risk this man had taken to drive us across the border. Here were two American girls in this van at three in the morning with this Bulgarian man. Our Bulgarian friend didn’t want us to have to get out in the cold and snow, so he just took our passports and gave them to the border official, explaining our situation. The guard was unconvinced and wanted to hear our side of the story. He opened the door, looked at us, then back at our driver and asked, “So is this man your friend?”. The ludicrousness of our situation struck me as I pondered how to answer. If I said no, it would make the guard suspicious that we were being kidnapped, but if I said yes, well, I only met the guy ten minutes ago, didn't even know his name, and certainly had no way of proving he was my friend. So, we decided just to tell the guard exactly what happened. We said, “This man picked us up because we were walking along in the snow." The incredulous look on the man’s face was priceless, “You were walking along the road in this weather?” "Yes,", we responded innocently, "and there is a taxi driver waiting for us at the other side of the border, and we have to catch a flight at 6:55." The guard, unconvinced asked if we wanted to be with this guy and if we were sure there was a taxi waiting for us. Though I was grateful for his care to make sure that we were not being kidnapped, I really wanted to get going as fast as possible so I kept praying that he would decide just to let us through. We assured him everything was okay. Though he seemed to remain unconvinced, and shocked at the craziness of our situation, he let us through with a disgusted little shrug, and sarcastically invited us to come visit again.
Finally we made it to the other side, where our taxi driver was waiting. We shook hands and bade farewell to our new hero, whose name we are still ignorant of, and began a hasty departure to the airport. It was doubtful if we would arrive on time. Our taxi drivers did not speak English, and were Bulgarian. Thankfully my Macedonian was enough to communicate the essentials with them, namely the fact that our flight left at 6:55 (by this time it was four in the morning). We still had a good bit of driving in front of us, and they didn't seem to have much hope that we would make it on time.
On we went, over the snow covered mountain roads, careening around corners, passing a recent avalanche of snow that had come down the mountain. Meanwhile Jenn and I busted out laughing as the stress had let up a little and we realized the ridiculousness of our situation. After a couple hours of stressful driving, we were delivered to the airport at 6:05. We had fifty minutes to catch our international flight. A helpful check in lady got our luggage checked quickly, and told us we'd better run to get to security. We heeded her instructions, and got through security and to our gate just as it was boarding. If we had been about ten minutes later we would have missed our flight. With soaked feet, in utter exhaustion, we climbed on that plane and slept, so grateful that we did not miss our flight, and that we were not harmed in any way.
Looking back I marvel at the way God guided us through every moment. It all happened so fast I hardly knew what hit me, yet through it all, he was watching over our every step, and giving us favor. If I had known in advance what I would face that night, I'm not sure what I would have thought. But I learned a very important lesson in a way I will not soon forget. Living life on the front lines of ministry, on the edge as it were, of this battle taking place, there are moments when the protective presence of God is more important to take into consideration than the possible results of what may look like an unwise decision. I would not have chosen to take a ride from a stranger in a country where trafficking occurs. However, as we were loading our bags in that van, I learned something with an assurance that I don't think will leave me for the rest of my life. In my heart there was a deep peace, at the moment I was so stunned by everything that it didn't immediately strike me from whence that peace flowed, but I see it now. It is the reality that perfect safety for me is not found in situations free of danger, but rather, in the center of God's will for me. It is there that angels are sent to fight on my behalf, where God does the impossible, where he grants favor, and works so quickly and minutely on my behalf that my brain can hardly comprehend even the possibility of it. I am convinced that no matter what dangers I face in the future, I am perfectly safe in the center of His presence, and His will. I would not trade learning this lesson for anything.
I fully intend to walk in the footsteps of other children of God who have gone before me. I intend to go wherever I see Him leading me, and do whatever I see Him doing, regardless of the danger. I am convinced that under His wings is a place of refuge for me, that he is my protector, my deliverer, my provider and my safe place, no matter what is going on around me.
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