My Dad: A Terrorist or A Spy?!

What? A terrorist or a spy? No. My dad is a missionary, but on his way to Ghana this month, he was detained at our local airport for an hour and a half. Looking at his passport, the officials studied his photo nervously, noting that the photo was cut crooked and didn't have the clear covering over it. "Is this you?" they asked. "Did you put the photo on here yourself?"

"Yes, it's me. No, of course, I didn't put the photo on there myself. This is my passport that I've used for years. See all the places it's been stamped at?" my dad asked, hoping that would alleviate fears.

"Yes, we were going to ask you about that," the officials inquired suspiciously. "Why have you been to so many African countries?"

My dad explained some more about who he is and what he does. They had him roped off in a little square cordoned area for a while, as they emptied his suitcases and searched through every item, meticulously. Eventually another more senior official came over and looked at my dad's passport. "Oh, no, it's fine," he assured the other officials. "That's just the old style of passport," he told them calmly. "He's fine, let him go."

Re-packing his things again, my dad vowed silently that new passports were the first thing he and my mom would work on once back in the states.

--Thankful for our country's security, and laughing sympathetically at my poor dad's adventures, I'm glad he's home safe. Yes, he's a black belt in karate. Yes, he's had amazing adventures and been held at gunpoint several times before... but he's still my dad. I'm proud of him, and I love him.