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Aaron, David, Ian & Joyce Reed at Goodbye Party
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Crossroads Women’s Bible Study says goodbye to Joyce
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The Baja Ferry
One day Jesus said to his disciples, “Let’s go over to the other side of the lake.”
THE OTHER SIDE
We’d set our plan in motion two weeks before our departure date of June 25th. (To officially begin our year of U.S. Assignment.) We were going to travel by ferry to Topolobampo, Mexico (a six hour ride), then drive to Navojoa for the night. The next day we’d drive 8 hours to the border, and then another 3 hours to Phoenix. By choosing this route, we’d cut our travel time in half. (It’s a 2-3 day drive up the Baja to CA, and then another day over to AZ.)
David went to the ferry terminal to buy our tickets and to get the permit that allowed us to drive the car on the mainland side of Mexico. Our missionary friends the Dresselhaus family were leaving at the same time, so we’d planned our ferry ride together. Tickets and permits were purchased with no hassle. We continued to pack non-stop and to start attending goodbye parties. We were renting a house so we had to pack the entire house and cart it over to a storage unit. Good thing we started a month early!
As they sailed, Jesus fell asleep. A squall came down on the lake, so that the boat was being swamped, and they were in great danger.
THE FIRST WAVE
Three days before our departure, a tropical storm began brewing and started heading towards the Baja Peninsula. It was called Andres. Soon, it was being called a hurricane. If it continued on its present course, it was predicted to hit La Paz on Thursday, June 25th. Hmmmm, what should we do? The last time a hurricane hit La Paz, roads were flooded, the ferry stopped running for several weeks, and many people were stranded. We decided to bump our tickets up a day early, just in case. This was easily done for a small fee. The morning of our departure, now Wednesday the 24th, dawned bright and clear. The storm had wound down and was now going out to sea. Good for us since none of us had looked forward to being potentially seasick on the ferry. Several of our La Paz friends came and prayed with us. Then we jumped in the car which was pulling a small trailer, and headed for the ferry terminal.
THE SECOND WAVE
The ferry was scheduled to pull out at 3pm. We were told to be there at 1pm with our car. We pulled into the revision line and handed the customs official our paperwork. She noted immediately that nothing on our permit mentioned a trailer. David said, “But no one ever told me I needed a permit for the trailer.” “I’m sorry sir, but you need one. You’ll have to park and go obtain a new permit.” So we turned around, parked in the parking lot, and went to the appropriate window.
The woman working in this office on that particular day was not familiar with any situation that took her outside the normal lines of operation. First, she had to figure out how to cancel our present paperwork. Second, she had to issue a new permit that included the trailer. This involved her first 2 calls to Mexico City which is where the main office for the car permits is located. Third, she got stuck because she didn’t know what “class” to label our trailer. Another phone call to Mexico City. Fourth, it took her 15 minutes to find the expiration date on David’s FM3 which is a Mexican passport we’re required to obtain each year. When David discovered her dilemma, he pointed it out to her immediately. Fifth, she was still stuck on classifying the trailer and so she called Mexico City a fourth time.
In the meantime, the boys and I were hanging out with Lois and Joel Dresselhaus. They were waiting to walk on the ferry. Steve, the dad, had driven their car on the ferry ages ago. At 2pm, passengers were allowed to board. We hugged Lois and Joel goodbye, not sure if we would be traveling with them or not. David had now been at the window for almost one hour. At 2:15, he finally got all the required paperwork. We dashed for the car and drove back to the revision line. We had no idea that the ferry stopped boarding at 2:30pm. Best that some information isn’t discovered until later!
THE THIRD WAVE
We submitted our new paperwork to the woman at the revision booth. Car checked out. The trailer was now added to the permit. She went to check the VIN number for the trailer. And couldn’t find it. David and Ian got out to help her search for the sticker where the VIN number should be. They found the sticker but not the number—it had worn off in the sun. The only thing that saved us in that moment was the fact that the name of the trailer was still printed on the trailer’s side which also matched the title. She waved us through. David drove on the ferry and the boys and I walked on the ferry at 2:30pm. We were the second to last car to drive on that day. Needless to say, it took my nerves at least an hour to calm down!
THE EYE OF THE STORM
We had a respite from the chaos. The ferry ride went smoothly. We docked on the other side and drove 2 hours to Navojoa where we stayed in a Best Western for the night. The next morning we took off for the border. About a half hour from where we had to stop and turn in our car permits, our family and the Dresselhaus family stopped to say goodbye to each other. Once in AZ, we were headed in different directions.
The disciples went and woke Jesus saying, “Master! Master! We’re going to drown!”
THE WIND
About 15 miles from the US/Mexican border, you stop at a toll booth to turn in your car permit. We have done this numerous times with no problems. This time, not so lucky. When we handed over our permit, the man at the window said, “Where’s your buggies?” David gave him a blank look. “What? We don’t have any buggies.” “Yes, you do. It says so right here on your permit.” This was when we discovered that the incompetent employee at the ferry had classified our trailer as a dune buggy trailer, carrying dune buggies! Now we did have a problem. A real one. Because it now appeared that we had once had buggies, and now we didn’t. Had we sold them illegally? David was sent across the highway to the main office. The boys and I parked off the road with the car and the trailer. Our friends turned in their permit and drove off towards the border.
Almost 40 minutes went by before we saw David on the opposite side of a security fence, waving for us to come over. So we locked up the car, dodged semis, and joined him by the office buildings. He said that our paperwork had made its way through every office and was now in the office of the top commander on duty. This man was hopeful, but said that the paperwork had to be cleared up in Mexico City before they could let us go. David had explained the mistake and was trusting that everyone believed him. The four of us held hands and prayed.
Then David said, “You know, worst case scenario is that they’ll impound the trailer. If they do that, we might not see anything in it again. Maybe we should move some stuff from the trailer to the car.” Okay, at this point, I hit meltdown. I’d been packing for a month, saying goodbyes, graduating my oldest son from high school, orienting the first volunteer couple to cover our ministry in La Paz, and we almost didn’t make the ferry the day before. Now, because of a clerical error, I might have possessions confiscated when I was so close to the U.S. border. I started to cry. I couldn’t even pray anymore. All I could whisper was, “Jesus, Jesus, Jesus.”
The boys and I returned to the trailer to begin the sorting process. I stared at guitars, clothes, financial files, computers and honestly didn’t know where to begin. I took a deep breath and pulled myself together. This was not the moment to have a hysterical breakdown!
About twenty minutes later, with stuff strewn on the ground around us, we were given the news that the paperwork was cleared and that we could take the trailer with us. Praise God! We loaded everything back inside, and then had to make a U-turn to go back through the line to hand in our new paperwork.
He got up and rebuked the wind and the raging waters; the storm subsided and all was calm.
THE ONE THAT ALMOST SWAMPED THE BOAT
Everything went great until, once again, the VIN number on the trailer couldn’t be located. David got out of the car and explained what happened to it. He showed the woman the title. She still had to call it in. Within minutes, the same top commander was across the street and we were pleading our case with him yet again. I sat in the front seat of the car trembling. The same litany in my heart and head, “Jesus, Jesus, Jesus.” I was exhausted at every level. The commander said, “Cancel their permit and let them go. These people have been here long enough.” The woman at the booth said, “Even without a VIN number?” He replied, “It’s okay. Let them go.” A true God moment. Then, he turned to David, “Just get that VIN number fixed in AZ, sir.” David agreed. After being delayed 1.5 hours, we were finally on our way again.
Another half hour and we were at the border. I was so relieved to cross over into the United States. Finally, we were on the other side.
WHERE IS YOUR FAITH?
In the Bible story of Luke 8:22-25, after Jesus rebuked the wind and the waves, he asked his disciples, “Where is your faith?” In fear and amazement they asked each other, “Who is this man?”
I look back at the mishaps of our two day journey to the border, and I wonder “Where was my faith?” Not that I doubted who God was, that God was with us, or that we were continually under his protection. But I had reached a limit of coping. And I do remember muttering, “God, I can’t take any more of this. I’m exhausted. Why is this happening now?” And all that kept echoing in my heart was this phrase, “Trust me.”
Have you ever been in a place where you’re physically, emotionally, mentally, and spiritually exhausted? A five year, second-term on the mission field had brought me to such a place. And it’s difficult to trust when you’re in such a place. To believe that someone is in control when everything else seems to be spinning out of control. Honestly, I don’t know how much faith I really exercised when we were stuck 15 miles from the border, and I thought our trailer might be impounded. I only had enough faith to whisper, “Jesus.”
But that seemed to be enough. The wind and the waves were stilled. And we made it safely to the other side.
All the way to Tucson, as we drove along the highway, I was trembling with fear and amazement. Who is this God? Who is this God? A God who cared enough about my exhausted state, my meager possessions, my desperate plea for help when there were certainly greater crises in other parts of the world to deal with in that particular moment. “Trust me,” God said. Some days, that’s all your heart has to hold on to. And some days, it’s just enough to get you to the other side.
Peace and Grace,
Joyce Anderson-Reed
David Reed
THE OTHER SIDE
We’d set our plan in motion two weeks before our departure date of June 25th. (To officially begin our year of U.S. Assignment.) We were going to travel by ferry to Topolobampo, Mexico (a six hour ride), then drive to Navojoa for the night. The next day we’d drive 8 hours to the border, and then another 3 hours to Phoenix. By choosing this route, we’d cut our travel time in half. (It’s a 2-3 day drive up the Baja to CA, and then another day over to AZ.)
David went to the ferry terminal to buy our tickets and to get the permit that allowed us to drive the car on the mainland side of Mexico. Our missionary friends the Dresselhaus family were leaving at the same time, so we’d planned our ferry ride together. Tickets and permits were purchased with no hassle. We continued to pack non-stop and to start attending goodbye parties. We were renting a house so we had to pack the entire house and cart it over to a storage unit. Good thing we started a month early!
As they sailed, Jesus fell asleep. A squall came down on the lake, so that the boat was being swamped, and they were in great danger.
THE FIRST WAVE
Three days before our departure, a tropical storm began brewing and started heading towards the Baja Peninsula. It was called Andres. Soon, it was being called a hurricane. If it continued on its present course, it was predicted to hit La Paz on Thursday, June 25th. Hmmmm, what should we do? The last time a hurricane hit La Paz, roads were flooded, the ferry stopped running for several weeks, and many people were stranded. We decided to bump our tickets up a day early, just in case. This was easily done for a small fee. The morning of our departure, now Wednesday the 24th, dawned bright and clear. The storm had wound down and was now going out to sea. Good for us since none of us had looked forward to being potentially seasick on the ferry. Several of our La Paz friends came and prayed with us. Then we jumped in the car which was pulling a small trailer, and headed for the ferry terminal.
THE SECOND WAVE
The ferry was scheduled to pull out at 3pm. We were told to be there at 1pm with our car. We pulled into the revision line and handed the customs official our paperwork. She noted immediately that nothing on our permit mentioned a trailer. David said, “But no one ever told me I needed a permit for the trailer.” “I’m sorry sir, but you need one. You’ll have to park and go obtain a new permit.” So we turned around, parked in the parking lot, and went to the appropriate window.
The woman working in this office on that particular day was not familiar with any situation that took her outside the normal lines of operation. First, she had to figure out how to cancel our present paperwork. Second, she had to issue a new permit that included the trailer. This involved her first 2 calls to Mexico City which is where the main office for the car permits is located. Third, she got stuck because she didn’t know what “class” to label our trailer. Another phone call to Mexico City. Fourth, it took her 15 minutes to find the expiration date on David’s FM3 which is a Mexican passport we’re required to obtain each year. When David discovered her dilemma, he pointed it out to her immediately. Fifth, she was still stuck on classifying the trailer and so she called Mexico City a fourth time.
In the meantime, the boys and I were hanging out with Lois and Joel Dresselhaus. They were waiting to walk on the ferry. Steve, the dad, had driven their car on the ferry ages ago. At 2pm, passengers were allowed to board. We hugged Lois and Joel goodbye, not sure if we would be traveling with them or not. David had now been at the window for almost one hour. At 2:15, he finally got all the required paperwork. We dashed for the car and drove back to the revision line. We had no idea that the ferry stopped boarding at 2:30pm. Best that some information isn’t discovered until later!
THE THIRD WAVE
We submitted our new paperwork to the woman at the revision booth. Car checked out. The trailer was now added to the permit. She went to check the VIN number for the trailer. And couldn’t find it. David and Ian got out to help her search for the sticker where the VIN number should be. They found the sticker but not the number—it had worn off in the sun. The only thing that saved us in that moment was the fact that the name of the trailer was still printed on the trailer’s side which also matched the title. She waved us through. David drove on the ferry and the boys and I walked on the ferry at 2:30pm. We were the second to last car to drive on that day. Needless to say, it took my nerves at least an hour to calm down!
THE EYE OF THE STORM
We had a respite from the chaos. The ferry ride went smoothly. We docked on the other side and drove 2 hours to Navojoa where we stayed in a Best Western for the night. The next morning we took off for the border. About a half hour from where we had to stop and turn in our car permits, our family and the Dresselhaus family stopped to say goodbye to each other. Once in AZ, we were headed in different directions.
The disciples went and woke Jesus saying, “Master! Master! We’re going to drown!”
THE WIND
About 15 miles from the US/Mexican border, you stop at a toll booth to turn in your car permit. We have done this numerous times with no problems. This time, not so lucky. When we handed over our permit, the man at the window said, “Where’s your buggies?” David gave him a blank look. “What? We don’t have any buggies.” “Yes, you do. It says so right here on your permit.” This was when we discovered that the incompetent employee at the ferry had classified our trailer as a dune buggy trailer, carrying dune buggies! Now we did have a problem. A real one. Because it now appeared that we had once had buggies, and now we didn’t. Had we sold them illegally? David was sent across the highway to the main office. The boys and I parked off the road with the car and the trailer. Our friends turned in their permit and drove off towards the border.
Almost 40 minutes went by before we saw David on the opposite side of a security fence, waving for us to come over. So we locked up the car, dodged semis, and joined him by the office buildings. He said that our paperwork had made its way through every office and was now in the office of the top commander on duty. This man was hopeful, but said that the paperwork had to be cleared up in Mexico City before they could let us go. David had explained the mistake and was trusting that everyone believed him. The four of us held hands and prayed.
Then David said, “You know, worst case scenario is that they’ll impound the trailer. If they do that, we might not see anything in it again. Maybe we should move some stuff from the trailer to the car.” Okay, at this point, I hit meltdown. I’d been packing for a month, saying goodbyes, graduating my oldest son from high school, orienting the first volunteer couple to cover our ministry in La Paz, and we almost didn’t make the ferry the day before. Now, because of a clerical error, I might have possessions confiscated when I was so close to the U.S. border. I started to cry. I couldn’t even pray anymore. All I could whisper was, “Jesus, Jesus, Jesus.”
The boys and I returned to the trailer to begin the sorting process. I stared at guitars, clothes, financial files, computers and honestly didn’t know where to begin. I took a deep breath and pulled myself together. This was not the moment to have a hysterical breakdown!
About twenty minutes later, with stuff strewn on the ground around us, we were given the news that the paperwork was cleared and that we could take the trailer with us. Praise God! We loaded everything back inside, and then had to make a U-turn to go back through the line to hand in our new paperwork.
He got up and rebuked the wind and the raging waters; the storm subsided and all was calm.
THE ONE THAT ALMOST SWAMPED THE BOAT
Everything went great until, once again, the VIN number on the trailer couldn’t be located. David got out of the car and explained what happened to it. He showed the woman the title. She still had to call it in. Within minutes, the same top commander was across the street and we were pleading our case with him yet again. I sat in the front seat of the car trembling. The same litany in my heart and head, “Jesus, Jesus, Jesus.” I was exhausted at every level. The commander said, “Cancel their permit and let them go. These people have been here long enough.” The woman at the booth said, “Even without a VIN number?” He replied, “It’s okay. Let them go.” A true God moment. Then, he turned to David, “Just get that VIN number fixed in AZ, sir.” David agreed. After being delayed 1.5 hours, we were finally on our way again.
Another half hour and we were at the border. I was so relieved to cross over into the United States. Finally, we were on the other side.
WHERE IS YOUR FAITH?
In the Bible story of Luke 8:22-25, after Jesus rebuked the wind and the waves, he asked his disciples, “Where is your faith?” In fear and amazement they asked each other, “Who is this man?”
I look back at the mishaps of our two day journey to the border, and I wonder “Where was my faith?” Not that I doubted who God was, that God was with us, or that we were continually under his protection. But I had reached a limit of coping. And I do remember muttering, “God, I can’t take any more of this. I’m exhausted. Why is this happening now?” And all that kept echoing in my heart was this phrase, “Trust me.”
Have you ever been in a place where you’re physically, emotionally, mentally, and spiritually exhausted? A five year, second-term on the mission field had brought me to such a place. And it’s difficult to trust when you’re in such a place. To believe that someone is in control when everything else seems to be spinning out of control. Honestly, I don’t know how much faith I really exercised when we were stuck 15 miles from the border, and I thought our trailer might be impounded. I only had enough faith to whisper, “Jesus.”
But that seemed to be enough. The wind and the waves were stilled. And we made it safely to the other side.
All the way to Tucson, as we drove along the highway, I was trembling with fear and amazement. Who is this God? Who is this God? A God who cared enough about my exhausted state, my meager possessions, my desperate plea for help when there were certainly greater crises in other parts of the world to deal with in that particular moment. “Trust me,” God said. Some days, that’s all your heart has to hold on to. And some days, it’s just enough to get you to the other side.
Peace and Grace,
Joyce Anderson-Reed
David Reed