On November 1967, I requested a Visa to go to the USA. It takes time, but I was sure I would get my Visa on time. Having had tuberculosis as a 12-year-old child, I had to see a special doctor and go through many tests like X-rays. I was ready to acquire a Visa. Now I had to wait.

In the meantime, my sponsor, C. Butterfield, wanted me to travel with him and his wife to the US. He gave me the exact date on which I had to be ready to travel with them. On March 22, 1968, I had to be at the Frankfurt Airport, ready to fly. I had a lot of time, I thought. I still lived in Hamburg, working full-time as an intern in one of the largest churches in Germany. When the New Year was coming around, however, there was no sign of my Visa.

I learned that my sponsor and his wife would travel to Finland, Sweden and Norway for evangelistic meetings, then fly directly to Frankfurt from Copenhagen. February had passed, and we were already in the month of March. There was still no sign of my Visa. I was told not to get my one-way ticket until I held my Visa in my hand. I was so sure of God’s plan that I immediately bought my ticket when I had the money.

On the 17th of March 1968, I received a notice from the Hamburg US Embassy to pick up my Visa with my sponsor’s signature. I nearly passed out. “My sponsor is in Sweden!” I yelled out loud. The college in the US was not able to send me a signature in time. And in no time, I saw my plans going down the drain. This was a Thursday. Friday would be the only time to pick up my ticket.

I still had to travel to my home in Velbert, which was 300 miles away, and pack.

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