I had been in this office the day before to submit my paperwork to annul my foreigner’s ID, and request a Bolivian ID. The day before, the man told me I was missing my marriage certificate, and a bank deposit of $2.50. “You can come back tomorrow.” He said. “I’ll be here from 7:00am – 3:00pm.”
So with that in mind, I had called Franco and asked him to meet me at the civil registry where we got married. I got on the bus to meet Franco, and mentally chided myself. I just requested this same form three days ago, and turned it in when I requested my Bolivian birth certificate. I should have asked for two…just in case.
When I arrived at the civil registry, I checked the time again. They should have opened at 3:00, but at 3:10 there was still a line outside of the closed door. I took my place in line, and waited. Soon, the notary arrived and warned the crowd that there were no birth certificates available today. Several people grumbled and left. I confirmed, “But there are marriage certificates?” She assured me there were.
As I waited inside, I watched as the notary ran back and forth between the internet router and her computer. After about 30 minutes she announced that there was no internet, and that we would need to return in the morning at 8:30.
A little discouraged, Franco and I got a bus back home and made a plan. We would go early in the morning to get the marriage certificate, then to the bank, and then back to Segip (the government office) to turn in all of the paperwork.
The next morning we got a bus back into the city and arrived at the civil registry at 8:28. Two minutes early! We took our place in line, and waited. And waited. At 9:05, the doors were opened, and the line became a mob. Not wanting to experience personal injury, we became the last in line. When it was finally our turn, a family rushed in needing a death certificate for their father. They needed it urgently so that they could take his body to the funeral home. How can you say no to that??
Thirty minutes later it was our turn again, and another bereaved man urgently needed a death certificate. But this time, after seeing how long it took, I became assertive. “I’m sorry, but we have been waiting since 8:30. It will only take 5 minutes.” The man was not happy, but the notary felt sorry for us at this point, and let us go.
At 11:05, we walked out of the office with our marriage certificate in hand! We rushed to the bank, and waited in line for our number to be called. When it was my turn, I told the teller that I needed to make a deposit to Segip for 17 bolivianos. ($2.50) He was very confused, because I was a foreigner, and foreigners have to pay more. I managed to convince him I knew what I was doing (kind of), and walked out with my receipts.
At this point, it was almost 11:30, and we decided to rush to Segip to make sure we had time to submit my documents and take my fingerprints before they closed. When we arrived, the legal assessor's door was closed. We asked the secretary, and she instructed us to take a seat. “He should be back in an hour… give or take.” I wanted to cry. An hour? What happened to “I’ll be here from 7:00- 3:00?!”
We decided to eat lunch and come back. When we came back, after an hour, the door was still closed. So we sat and waited. And waited. I began to think of all the things I could have done with the last two hours. I began to list all of the things wrong with the system. How unjust it was. The line began to grow behind us, and after 45 minutes the line was restless. A lady walked by with a nametag, and an older man in line asked when the legal assessor would be in. She replied, “Oh, I don’t think he’s coming back today. He had to go to court.” The line erupted in complaints. I wanted to cry again. The line continued to complain, and we walked away. With smoke coming out of my ears.
I was so angry that we had wasted so much time. Almost an entire day wasted waiting in lines. I questioned the system. Why did no one seem to be able to do their job? Was it actually their fault, or was it the way things were set up? What if people did their jobs to the best of their ability? What if people did their jobs for the glory of God?
And then I felt the conviction in my heart that comes from the Holy Spirit. What about me? Am I waiting in lines for the glory of God? Not very well. I tend to see waiting in line as a waste of my time. A distraction from things that are actually important.
How different would my waiting be if I saw it as an opportunity to talk to the people in line with me? To show meekness and humility and patience? To not grumble? How would God be glorified in that?
So although I’m hopeful that the waiting in lines and paperwork necessary to become a Bolivian citizen are almost over, I know that my days of waiting in lines are not. This is Bolivia – there will always be lines (or at least mobs of people) waiting for something. My prayer is that the Lord would teach me to glorify Him in the mundane things like waiting in lines. And may He continue to show you and I areas of our lives that He wants to work in. For His glory, and our good.
