God Knows No Deportations

Arrested unexpectedly on the day of her immigration interview, the author recounts how her isolation turned into a sense of connection.

The day I attended my immigration interview to change my status from political asylee to permanent resident through my husband’s petition, I never imagined I would leave with my hands and feet shackled. What was supposed to be a day of celebration turned into the most transformative experience of my life.

The first few hours of my detention were an intense conflict with God. I couldn’t understand why this was happening to me when I had acted strictly according to the law. But, completely exhausted, I surrendered and said the prayer that changed my story: “Lord, let Your will be done.”

Upon arriving at the detention center, some women told me that no one ever regained their freedom in less than three months. However, in the midst of that uncertainty, I felt a clear whisper in my heart: “Do not listen to the others. Listen to me. You will only be here for fifteen days.” With absolutely no evidence to believe it, I chose to trust.

My only requests were a Bible, a pencil, and a lined notebook. I felt God guiding me to read the Book of Isaiah, from the very first chapter to the last. As I moved forward in my reading, my faith grew. I realized that God was not only sustaining me, but He was also calling me to bring hope to the other women sharing that space with me.

I listened to stories of deep pain and separation. I was afraid too, but I decided that fear would not be the protagonist of my days. I only allowed myself to cry while taking a shower; I wanted the other women to see in me the peace that God was planting in my heart. We prayed and sang together, discovering that no prison bars can prevent God’s presence from reaching a life.

The day I finished reading Isaiah, I felt an inexplicable peace. I cleaned my room, organized my belongings, placed my ID on my uniform, and sat down to wait.

Minutes later, an officer opened the door:
—”Is María Feo here?”
—”Yes, that’s me,” I replied.
—”Oh, but you are already wrapped up and ready! Come with me. An immigration officer wants to speak with you.”

The officer informed me that I would be released on parole that very day. My lawyer was already aware of the decision and would
notify my husband.

The night before, without knowing what would happen, I had playfully asked my husband over the phone:

—”Baby, are you coming to pick me up tomorrow?”
—”Of course. What time do you want me there?”
—”At three in the afternoon.”

The next day, at that exact hour, there he was, waiting for me with flowers and chocolates.

As I walked toward him, I understood that God had been with me from the very first moment. People can be detained by borders, but God’s love never can. That is why I continue to believe, with all my heart, that God knows no deportations.