Two days, 29 minutes and 35 seconds until my husband has an interview to get his Green Card, his family visa to become a resident of the United States of America. We haven’t lived together in six months, and we haven’t seen each other in four.
He looks American. He looks Mexican, Mediterranean and Middle Eastern and doesn’t have a trace of an accent. If you ran into him on Main Street you’d never guess he spent the last 37 years in the Middle East. He’s British and American educated, has spent over fifteen years in the hospitality world, twelve of which have been as the head of a department at five star hotels. He’s worked with the United States Embassy for years, married an honorably discharged Marine Corps veteran (hi, there), been a devout member of underground Christian churches for over eighteen years, a leader in those churches for about fifteen years.
He also speaks five dialects of Arabic, is fluent in French after he’s practiced for five minutes and can speak enough Tagalog and Spanish to be polite and respectful. He’s lived in several different countries, traveled to more than fifteen countries and understands better than anyone else what it’s like to be unfairly harassed at a border just because of the Cedar tree embossed on his passport. Yet in the midst of such unfair treatment I’ve never seen him raise his voice – even when it was warranted.
He treats the newly-hired cook at his five-star hotel with the same respect and consideration as he does his teammates in the sales department, gives a firm handshake and will be quick to serve you before you have to wait two minutes for the one with the job of service to catch up.
He’s passionate about two things: the Lord Jesus and me, his wife. He still believes in the power of opening a door for me, just as he believes in the power of prayer on his knees. He makes me hand-drawn cards that would put Hallmark to shame, and he melts when he holds a baby – especially when he looks at me and considers our unborn children. He doesn’t understand the concept of laziness and he’ll sweep floors before he’ll let me go hungry or put us in debt. He’s a saver, but will hand over a generous amount of cash or a practical favor to one in need when the occasion surfaces.
My husband is the kind of man America needs. More than that – he’s the man I need by my side! Join me in praying for his interview. If he gets his Green Card it’ll be only about six weeks or so until he’s in the States by my side again, and we can start making a difference for God together as intended.
I pray God grants us the grace of this Green Card to bring us together again. Nevertheless, I pray God's will, and not mine, will be done. I pray the Holy Spirit gives my husband the words to speak, words of truth and clarity, and He provides him rest as he waits and prepares the next couple of days for his interview. I pray for surrender and faith as we wait, remembering that all good things come from God above, and that at the end of the day my husband and I can say, “The Lord gives, and the Lord takes away. Blessed be the name of the Lord.” I pray we can be still, and remember the Lord Jesus is God. Amen.
Two days, 10 minutes and fifty seconds to go…