Our family is no stranger to immigration. Contrary to what you may have heard, one does not marry an American or a Canadian and automatically gain citizenship into that country. It may give you a different immigration path to follow that puts you ahead of others that don't have that connection but it is still arduous and expensive and stressful.
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| My Canadian citizenship ceremony |
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| 80 countries represented becoming Canadian! |
Because of varying statuses and situations over the years, we have missed flights, been pulled over at the border and questioned, sat in numerous waiting rooms, hired two different lawyers, submitted stacks of paperwork, drove miles (or kilometers) for interviews, and countless others stressful events that I often just try to forget so I don't remain scarred for life. Throw in an international adoption and I can't believe I didn't have a nervous breakdown.
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| The charm Z received as a gift to commemorate her US citizenship through naturalization |
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| We're nothing if not patriotic! |
After living in Canada for 16 years, three of us were finally dual citizens and other than renewing passports we were done with all the above stress. Until we moved back to the US.
One of us is not like the rest.
Dear husband is Canadian. 21years ago when we were first married, he was forced to file for a green card after finding out his student visa was void now that he had married me. You see, we were young and in love and naive and got married without looking into a single thing. I kid you not. I was too focused on my wedding flowers and flavor of cake to care about immigration status. We were in love. Love conquers all. Didn't the government get that memo?!
And so our adventure began. Half way through his first year at Seminary we started the paperwork, got a lawyer after realizing to our horror that it was more than we bargained for, and applied for a green card. Three and a half years later ... he got it!
The next day he received a Divine Call to serve our church in Ottawa, Canada.
That meant three things:
- God has a sense of humor
- He had to give the green card back
- It was my turn
So here we are 16 years later and he is starting all over again. Or would they take into consideration that we had done this before?
The following details may not be accurate. I tend to forget a lot of things in order to protect my sanity. But this is the gist of it.
The first thing he did shortly after we moved here was fill out the paperwork, have the lawyer give it a look, and send it off. Three weeks later it all came back.
Apparently he didn't sign it. Oops.
Then he sent it back, we didn't hear anything for months other than a document that instructed him to take a medical exam. He was required to go to certain doctors that were certified by immigration.
So he went on the website, found a few in the area, and called one up.
Expecting a receptionist to answer, he was surprised when the doctor himself took the call! Thinking he may have to wait to get an appointment, the doctor asked him when he wanted to come over and tomorrow worked for both of them. Great! Welcome to hicks town because this appointment was at the guy's house. He answered the door in overalls (one side pinned, the other hanging) and Crocks. (These details in particular may not be accurate. I can't recall if this was the picture I had in my head as he was telling me or if this is a faithful account) He was shown to the doctor's couch that was covered in cat hair. He had firmly decided at that point that if this guy asked him to drop his pants, he'd be out the door.
Thankfully that scenario didn't happen and he got out of there with a requisition to have blood taken to test for horrible diseases and such. He did have to come back and have the guy fold up the paperwork and put it in a regular rectangular envelope that he then taped up like a 5 year old and wrote with black Sharpie "do not open" all over it. He was supposed to keep this until immigration asked for it. I should have taken a picture of it. Rats.
Then we heard from the government again because of the way we filed. I am his sponsor and they said he needed someone else who had more money. Rude! My parents graciously offered themselves up which is actually kind of risky on their part. I mean, what if Wayne married me 21 years ago just so I could be his meal ticket in some day? What if he was growing a family with me and just biding his time to strike? I think we all feel pretty confident that this is not the case. So thanks again, Dad and Mom!
Then we didn't hear from them again for awhile until one day his work visa showed up in the mail. This was a big deal!! He was so excited that he went to get his Texas drivers license only to leave with a one year temporary license that he would have to renew once he got his PR card. He was also crestfallen when he tried to use it as proof of legal status for his conceal carry license and they rejected it as legal proof. We had taken the class together, had our fingerprints taken together (dream date), and filed together. It was so sad when my card came in the mail only for him to receive rejection. He was really looking forward to having that card.
Then we went back to not hearing anything for awhile. Until one day he checked his status online and it said the next step was the interview and that the invitation should be coming in the mail. We waited for awhile. I can't remember how long. But it finally came and we were excited! September 9th. At this point we really didn't know what it meant though. Would this be the first of several interviews? Would they ask us stuff like what color toothbrush does your spouse use or brand of deodorant he prefers? No idea. We even agonized over whether we should pay our lawyer to be there. We decided to wing it and pray for the best.
We found ourselves back in that all too familiar environment of an immigration waiting room, full of chatting people of many different languages and nationalities. It reminded me of the IKEA in Ottawa only not as fun and with no Swedish meatballs. Anyway .... two hours we waited. "Norman" was finally called and we filed into the small office of a government worker - a yawning, fairly hefty in size African American man with a big coffee stain down the front of his button down shirt I decided not to comment on. In retrospect I could have offered him a Shout wipe and he would probably have appreciated it. But I was playing it safe and tried my best not to call attention to it. After a salutary greeting and trying our best to make a good first impression, he asked for a document (I can't recall) which Wayne had handy in one of many manilla envelopes he had with him all carefully marked with what the contents were inside. This ain't his first rodeo and the man came prepared. He had his briefcase packed with three years of taxes he pulled from the filing cabinet along with documents he considered even remotely important to this meeting and then some. He even had his Bible in there because really ... that's all we need when you get right down to it. Can I get an Amen?
When we were collecting the pile of stuff we would take to this meeting, I suggested as a last minute addition one of our photo albums as proof that our marriage is far from a sham. This particular album was from the years 2008/2009. It was from one of those Stampin Up workshops I had gone to where in one night you're able to put together a 12 month album all themed and ready to insert your pictures. So every page was a spread of the month that I had cut out by hand, stamped, and glued during those days when I hungered for proof of my creativity among days of diaper changing and child rearing. This was the album we brought to the immigration interview. This was the album that Wayne pulled out of his plastic bag and handed to the immigration worker with the coffee stain down the front of his shirt. I was so embarrassed!
He waved it aside and said he didn't need that. We had proof of joint ownership of our house and joint bank accounts so that would be enough. But my dear husband pressed the issue again with are you sure? and I just sunk deep in my chair and said something about how he didn't need to look at it if he didn't want to. And then he changed his mind and took the album.
That sweet man looked at each and every page. 24 months of the days of the lives of the Halldorson family. He didn't have to but he did.
After that he asked for the medical results and Wayne handed him that ridiculous envelope all marked up with black sharpie and taped up like a toddler had gotten into it. The guy didn't even blink or have an expression like what the heck is this? Which I take to mean as being completely normal and they all must look like this and not just the ones from Dr. Pepper from Hickstown. He tore open the "do not open" envelope and I'm pretty sure I saw some cat hair fly out. Whoops.
He continued to mark up a bunch of papers with checkmarks, initials, and stamps. He asked Wayne a few questions about whether his intentions were evil or on the up and up. And then he announced that was it and do we have any questions? To which I responded with, "when you say that's it, what does it mean to you? Like, that's it for now? That's it until next year?" To which he clarified that it was IT and Wayne should get his card in the mail in the next 2-4 weeks. To which I pressed exactly what card are you referring to? A Hallmark card? The Permanent Resident card? To which he confirmed that yes, after one more quick background check that he would receive the PR card within the month.
Well, OK then! I think we're done here! Which is when I should have discretely slipped him the Shout wipe but I was too excited and didn't want him to change his mind either so let's get going!!
By the end of that week we had each received official confirmation that our file was accepted and a few days later the PR card came!!! Expiration: 10 years.
