First, I want to start off with a realization: I realized that I shouldn’t talk to my parents in the morning, because with my mom’s continuous frustration for half of this year: about Covid-19, Black Lives Matter, Suspension of H1B, and my I-20 expiration, I always, always, start off my day feeling worse than I have already been.
But, I eventually felt better 🙂 I cried for a while and tried to change the situation by calling the embassy and asking for help through a connection. Then, I asked for prayers. I didn’t ask for a specific one, though. Mine was vague and full of rage towards We the People. Now, I want to stop and pray here. To say my wish as specific as possible, and to cast all the frustration to God.
Over the course of half a year, my mom also insisted me to trust God. She read a book off of my shelf once, written by Joel Osteen, and she kept telling me stories the author told that showed how God had a bigger plan. I half-heartedly believe in everything, because the other half of my heart said that I already knew all of this stuff and didn’t want to try its best to work on it.
It took me major events in this nation, 30 days after my graduation when my legal status in America is coming to an end, pages of Unbroken written by Laura Hillenbrand and Anxious about Nothing by Max Lucado, and probably a whole lot of prayers from friends and family, to finally give in. To understand the prayers went missing from my own mouth. To realize that I have given America too much attention, yet none to God, the only that can change the matter.
From where I sit, I can turn left and see pink flowers flourishing. I don’t know what they are called, since I have never been fond of flowers, but they are all pretty. The garden is green, with lettuces, arugula, chamomile, and lines and lines of other herbs and vegetable. There’s also a green house, and, the house I live in, itself is another masterpiece carved by your hands. You have given me all this, and I am thankful for that. I am thankful for knowing you.
Out of all the things happening in the world, my life is affected by all but also none. When I cried over the new policy from ICE, I didn’t cry because I am affected, since I was going to take a gap year either ways. I cried because I was disappointed at the people and of how hopeless international students/people of color are. I cried because the world is a cruel place, and I can’t help it.
But I am troubled because I cannot go home, and in the next 30 days, if I still can’t go home, I will be an illegible traveller in the States, and coming back later on for education and work might be a problem. A freaking stupid problem that I can’t do anything in my favor.
With that in mind, I pray that I can go home, just right before August 15th. I pray that I can get my driver’s license before then, and that I can keep up with my momentum: training for my 10K, coding, working on The Tale’s projects, learning Chinese, and becoming a safe driver. That’s my specific prayer: to fly home soon but also to work hard everyday.
I praise you for you are King of all kings, for you love your children unconditionally, and for your wisdom. Amen.
And what will happen if I can’t go home? Well, maybe it will be a disaster, or maybe it’s good to just go somewhere else, right? It’s true that there are almost 200 other countries in the world, and as I have always said, “education can be free if you know where to look for it,” I think I will also be fine. I wouldn’t talk about the States with pride anymore, but I will find a place I belong to. A place that deserves me. A place that values who I am.
After all, God’s plan doesn’t end with a pandemic or a kick in the butt out of the wealthiest (and most hurting) nation. God’s plan continue on, and it steers me towards growth, not destruction.
Today, I stopped and listened. And I heard love.