My little Honda Civic knows the road from my house in Santa Barbara to 10900 Wilshire Blvd in LA by heart, having traveled this route 3 times in the past 2 ½ months. I know what you’re thinking- so many trips in such a short time seem rather excessive. But this increase in my car’s odometer reading tells a story of how our awesome God works in the details of our lives.
My first trip to the French Consulate in LA took place in late November for my appointment to apply for a long-term visitor visa to France. I worked hard preparing my application for many weeks leading up to this appointment, and as I drove down the 101 I was confident that I had all the necessary documents to procure the much-desired visa. This confidence promptly vanished when a French woman held my application in her hands and I saw the look on her face. One of the most important documents in my application is a letter from Christian Associates stating that I am employed by CAI and they will be paying me a monthly salary in France. This letter was written by Joanie Cole, our wonderful Director of Administrative Services, who, coincidentally, shares my last name. So this French woman glances at the letter (without bothering to actually read it), and says to me, “Who is Joanie Cole? Is she related to you? Because it looks like your mother wrote you this letter.”
Yes. That’s right. I’m trying to pull a fast one on the French government, so I had my mom write me a fake letter and then sign her own name at the bottom. That’s exactly what I did. Do you think it will work?
I tried to explain that Joanie is a legitimate employee of a legitimate organization, but at this point the woman had decided I was shady and nothing I could say would convince her otherwise. If she had merely read the letter, all the confusion would have been cleared up, but instead she chose to make up her own story and stick with it. Hey, at least she was creative! So she sent me away, without accepting my application, and told me that if I could gather some more documents to prove my case and jump through some more hoops, I could come back to apply again.
Several weeks later, I found myself again driving down the 101 towards Wilshire Blvd, this time not filled with naïve confidence, but rather with sheer determination. I knew I had all the documents she required, and if she came up with a new arbitrary reason to reject my application, I was prepared to force it upon her. After minimal hoop jumping (and a quick jog down the street to the local Bank of America), they accepted my visa application, and told me that it would take 2-3 months to process. I was so thankful my application was accepted, but I felt a twinge of disappointment that it would take so long to process and further postpone my departure date.
I’ve never liked to worry about little details like this, but I am so thankful that our God is so good and is God over even the littlest details. On January 8, a mere 2 ½ weeks after my application was accepted, I got a phone call saying that my visa application was accepted and my shiny new long-term visitor visa was waiting at that office on Wilshire Blvd for me to zip on down and pick it up.
This time, driving down the 101, my heart was overflowing with thanks and praise to our great God.
