God Is Still Writing Our Story

Ginger Kruiswyk


Like many people, my 2020 started out with great hope and joy. On January 8th we received the official referral to adopt the two beautiful girls we hosted last summer. The process had moved quickly, but not as quickly as we had hoped as there had been a few hiccups along the way. But we were still on path to bring our girls home from Colombia by the beginning of April.

We had plans to leave on March 12th for Colombia. The evening of the 11th, as we prepared to head to St. Louis for a short night in a hotel before our flight at 5:45 am, we were told Colombia was starting to close their borders, but not to flights from the US. Then, on the way to St. Louis news came across the radio that the NBA was cancelling the rest of the season. When we arrived in St. Louis, our agency said it was possible we would fly into Colombia and have to turn around and come right back home. We were so torn. What do we do? We got little sleep that night and spent much time in prayer. In the morning we both agreed — we had to try. If we were turned around, so be it; at least we would have done our best.

Check-in was a little nerve wracking, but after that, it was smooth sailing. No problems boarding our flight to Miami or to Bogotá. We wore masks as recommended by our agency, but we were in the minority until we landed. Getting through customs took over an hour with the additional precautions. But we had made it! We were in the country, and it would all be okay. We knew we might need to quarantine when we got home, but we would have our daughters, and that would be just fine. When we were able to pick up our girls the next morning (Friday, March 13th), we were on cloud nine. Little did we know what the coming week would hold.

While the weekend was uneventful and we were able to see a bit of the country (all outdoor activities as recommended by our agency), once Monday came, guidance started to change rapidly. That morning, a family with our agency was on their way to pick up their daughter when they were abruptly told to turn around, as they would not be able to pick her up due to new guidance from the government. Then, we were told we could not go out together anymore...only one person could leave to get groceries. Then, we were told no one could leave. 

Meanwhile, one of our daughters was having severe stomach pains. We worked with our agency, and we all agreed she needed to go to the hospital to be seen. While there, they tested her for COVID; it turned out to be Rotavirus, thank goodness, but that test led to more problems. The next day, back at the hotel, our other daughter complained of severe tooth pain, so off to the dentist I went. Then we were told that we would have to be in country two weeks before our adoption could proceed.

Then on Thursday the 19th, we were told the president of Colombia, in an effort to keep his citizens safe and not overwhelm the medical system, was shutting the borders down — no incoming international flights would be allowed. We had to leave or risk being stuck there for who knows how long.

To say we were devastated is a huge understatement. We had six children in the U.S. and the two we were adopting in Colombia. How could this happen? What should we do? Now, remember that COVID test — later that day, we were told if that came back positive or didn’t come back, we could not leave. We could be stuck there, away from our other children, for an unknown amount of time.

I wish I could say that my first reaction was to pray, that I remembered that God was in the situation, that He knew this would happen before we even left. But that is not true. I panicked. I went into our bedroom at the hotel and broke down and sobbed. My husband came in and was the voice of reason. He remembered, he knew God was there, he knew that if we were unable to leave, it was because God knew we were needed there more than we were needed in the U.S.

I recovered and then felt such shame. I felt I had failed God, that I had failed some type of test. I knew if my faith was real and true and deep, I should never have reacted that way.

But the thing is, God kept showing up. He showed up in the conversations I had with one of our daughters before we left, so I take comfort in knowing that she knows God is with her in all of this. He made a way for us to return home safely to our children here. He showed up when we found out we were able to advance one step in our adoption even after we returned. I’ve seen him working in the lives of my children here at home: from my oldest finding his dream job after graduating high school despite everything that is going on (that whole journey was orchestrated by God), to another child finding a much better college fit, to another one seeming to find her way back to her faith again.

So, while I may think I failed, I really do not know what God thinks. I can say for certain that He has not given up on me or abandoned me. He continues to be with me and blesses me with His amazing grace. I have repented, and I am certain of His forgiveness. This was a good reminder that it is easy to stray and try to do things on my own when things are going well. I need to be sure I stay connected, that I am spending time in the Word and with Him in prayer each and every day. So, when hard times come, and they always will, I do not have to remember to go to God first — I just will.

As for our adoption, God is still writing that story. We are blessed that our girls are in an amazing place with people who truly love and care for them. We are grateful that each and every week, we get to spend an hour with them via Skype. And we are counting down the days until we get to be together again, for good. We hope and pray that we will be on our way on September 1. Regardless of how this all plays out, I trust God. And I hope I do not forget the lessons I learned through this experience.


Ginger is a mom to 6 (soon to be 8) and a wife. She is an accountant at Caterpillar in the tax department and also spent a few years working as a nurse at St. Francis. Ginger grew up in Northwest Indiana but has called Central Illinois home for 30 years.

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