Bee's visa was denied. Once again, a 13 year-old orphan from a country still healing from a civil war is counted among the undesirables when considered by our government authorities.
Jo is taking this hard. I walked into my bedroom last night to find our devastated girl--just weeks away from her 13th birthday--curled into as tight a ball as she could manage on her Daddy's lap. The bed frame sagged with their combined weight, and I recalled the many, many times I had witnessed this same scene over much smaller things in her younger years. But this time, the longing and hurt is over a person. I had to look away. Just hearing her sob, "They're mean. They're mean. All they want is people who have money," was enough to bring fresh tears to my own eyes.
We press on.
A local Christian school is excited at the prospect of perhaps extending her a student visa, allowing their other students the opportunity to learn to know and love and feel kinship with someone whose life has been very different from their own, and whose perspective may just be able to shake some of the Wii-fueled entitlement from their eyes.
It's not perfect. We'd prefer to have her at home with us, doing math around the kitchen table. Watching Mani sort his trains into stacks of blue, yellow, green. Learning that in some cultures, Mommas hug their big girls for no reason at all. But maybe God's idea is different. We just don't know. So we walk forward, trusting the One who wrote the story before we were born to reveal the plot line to us ... one page at a time.