although a long tedious process, the sponsorship license that had to be applied for and awarded before I could even apply for a visa went through about a month ago. I came back to the UK and straight away sent in my visa application. Yesterday, after all of that, they sent me a rejection letter.
In the large scheme of things, it's not a huge obstacle because the grounds that it was rejected on was that the particular charity visa I applied for can only be granted to someone applying while living outside the country. sigh. That means a trip back to the states to sort the whole application out again. While that in and of itself is just majorly inconvenient, it possess a relatively small obstacle of an extra plane flight and chillaxing at home with the parentals for a couple of weeks...not so bad :)
The thing that knocked me off kilter a bit from this news was a thought that perhaps God had not been calling me to serve with eMi in the UK as I had originally thought. This was a really scary thought. I hate when I miss the mark: i've already been support raising, i've moved in here, started learning to drive on the wrong side of the road (surprisingly i haven't killed anything but the gear box so far!)...etc. It would be so disappointing to have to just drop all the work I am currently doing for eMi and flee the country for good. You feel sort of disoriented when you start questioning whether you followed God into His path for you or you went your own way thinking it was His.
I can't say that I am one hundred percent reconfirmed now, but God continues to remind me that as long as I am seeking His will, I enable Him to work through me, no matter where I am at. This morning, after having a frustrating day of bad visa news and leaving my favorite umbrella behind on the train yesterday, I suddenly remembered an e-mail I received not 24 hours before I got my unfortunate visa letter. That e-mail contained great news of a donation made on my behalf from the Wheatly Fund, a fund set up by a wonderful couple from my home church in Wyoming.
The realization:
donation = cost of flight back home
He is My fortress. My rock. My provider. Yet again, God reminds me that He provides for his children who are walking along side Him. Lord, although I never will, help me to deserve that spot at your side.
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