"For, lo, the winter is past, the rain is over and gone; the flowers appear on the earth; the time of the singing of birds is come, and the voice of the turtle is heard in our land; The fig tree putteth forth her green figs, and the vines with the tender grape give a good smell. Arise, my love, my fair one, and come away..." Song of Solomon 2:11-13 COUNCILS AND KINGS 17 fter proceeding through customs, I left the port area and headed for a Christian youth hostel in Haifa. I had only enough money left for three nights at the hostel; and Aso I registered for three nights, and was led to a bunk in a large, airy room. After unpacking my few possessions, I sat down on the bunk and at once began to feel sorry for myself. Until the Bible classes were to begin in two weeks' time, I had nothing to do and nowhere to go and almost no money left whatsoever. And constantly over the past weeks I had worried about Mike and Joey. I missed them so much, and began even to resent their step-mother, who now was able to care for them in all the ways that I longed to. As I had nothing and there was no clear direction from the Lord, all I did was to sit on the bunk and make myself as gloomy as possible. Some time passed before there was a soft knock at the door to my room. The director of the youth hostel came in with his wife. "Listen," he said, "we wondered if you'd be interested in helping us out for the next two weeks. One of our assistants is out of the country, and we really need some extra help until she returns. You can move to another room, and we could provide you with room and board and a tiny salary for extras. Is it something you'd be interested in doing?" Once again I felt a sense of shame rising in my heart, shame at having so easily forgotten the Lord and His hand upon every situation. What right did I have to feel despondent and forsaken when my life was in His hands? I gladly accepted their offer, with the knowledge that this was indeed the provision of the Lord for the two weeks that stretched before me. It was a happy time, and working hard physically helped me to forget the burdens on my heart. One day while I was cleaning the toilets, I had to smile to myself, knowing that the world of "striving for success" that I had left behind, would never understand how I could possibly be happy cleaning bathrooms when all my "higher education" was being "wasted". But to serve the Lord is the greatest joy of all, and when I did all of the menial tasks as unto Him, they became transformed into a service of love. The time seemed to fly by, and soon I was on my way to Jerusalem for the six-week Bible study, which was attended by twenty people, primarily from Canada, England and the United States. The classes were interesting, including teaching on Jewish history and traditions; Jewish folksongs and dances; and the Jewish festivals in the light of the Gospels. Following the Bible study, we spent time touring Israel, singing and sharing our faith wherever we went. We travelled from one end of the country to the other, re-visiting many of the places Michael, Joey and I had discovered together. When the six weeks had ended, I was invited to share an apartment with a small group of Believers in the northern Israeli resort town of Nahariya. It is a lovely, tranquil town near the Lebanese border, and my bedroom overlooked the Mediterranean. As I love the sea, it was again evidence of the Father's provision and care. 157 One day in a time of prayer, the Lord gave to me the following Word: "For they will deliver you up to the councils .. And ye shall be brought before governors and kings for My sake, for a testimony against them .. But when they deliver you up, take no thought how or what ye shall speak: for it shall be given you in that same hour what ye shall speak. For it is not ye that speak, but the Spirit of your Father which speaketh in you… Matthew 10:17-20 He underlined it so strongly in my heart that I couldn't ignore it, but it was a puzzle. What in the world did He mean? I had no plans of appearing before any councils and courts! (Did I?) In September of 1977, my two-year residency permit for Israel was due to expire, and I knew that it would have to be renewed again. One afternoon, as I mentioned this to friends living in Nahariya, I shared the story of all that had happened to me at the immigration centre in Ashdod. "Didn't they tell you at the airport that they would return your immigration papers to you upon your arrival in Israel?" a friend inquired after I had concluded the story. "Yes, that is what they had said at the airport on the day of our departure!" I replied. "Well, why don't you go to the office of the Ministry of Immigration in Haifa and request the papers back again?" I prayed about it, and the Lord confirmed that that is what He wished for me to do. So a few days later I took the bus to Haifa and requested the return of my immigration papers. Mr. Rozman, the man in charge of immigrants from the United States, referred me to his secretary. First she called the office of immigration in Ashdod to locate a copy of my file. It was not to be found. Then she called Beersheva, and they informed her that the file had been forwarded to Ashdod upon our transfer to the Immigration Centre there. So she re-called Ashdod. They suggested she try the office in Tel Aviv. But it seems that the file was nowhere to be found. "Well," the secretary informed me, "since the file cannot be located, we'll simply open a new one!" And she left the office to procure the necessary forms. I knew that right at that moment I was facing a real crossroad in my life. I knew that if the file were never found, I had a chance to live an "ordinary" life in Israel, an opportunity to begin again with no evidence of all that had transpired in Ashdod. I longed for this, and hoped with all my heart that the file had simply disappeared forever. But I sensed that the Scripture the Lord had given me had a purpose, and resigned myself to the Lord's will, whatever it may be (knowing that He was fully aware of my longing for the whole Ashdod incident to be forgotten). The secretary soon returned with the necessary papers, but just before she sat down to type, she said, "Maybe I'll just call the Jerusalem office of the Jewish Agency to see if they know what's become of your file." How quickly things happened after that! As soon as my name was mentioned to whomever answered the phone in the Jerusalem office, he began to scream, "What is she doing back in the country? We had orders at the airport not to let her in again. HOW DID SHE GET HERE? What's going on?" The secretary became frightened by his extreme response, asking me to leave the office as she ran out to call Mr. Rozman to the phone. She hadn't time to notice at all the tears that had begun to slide down my cheeks, as I knew in that moment that the decision had been made. 158 Mr. Rozman entered the office, and all I heard him say before the door swung shut was, "What's the story on Mrs. Dorflinger?" After some time, Mr. Rozman came out and sat next to me in the hall. My eyes were still filled with tears, but it could not be helped. "Dear me," he said kindly, "I have no idea what in the world you have done, but the minute your name was mentioned to the Jerusalem office, they had a fit!" He saw my obvious distress, and reassured me by adding, "Don't worry, we've asked them to forward the file here, and we'll see what can be done. But what in the world is it all about? What have you done to make them so upset?" "I haven't done anything. Truly. The only reason that they're upset is because I believe in Jesus." "Is that all? You're quite certain?" he asked incredulously. "Yes, really, that's all!" I assured him. "Well, don't be upset. We've sent for the file. Come back to see us in a week or so, and we'll see what can be done about all of this. If that is truly the only problem, surely you'll receive your immigration papers again." I was grateful for his kindness, and thanked him warmly. I had no idea what the future would bring. But it seemed that my chances for a quiet, unobtrusive life in Israel were quickly slipping away. When I arrived a week later at the immigration office once again, Mr. Rozman carried in my file, pretending to stagger from the great weight of it.