We don't know where they are. We don't know what they're going through. All we know is that they are somewhere awaiting a New Start.
We've signed the Green Light Form once again. We have our teams in place. Now all we can do is wait expectantly for news of our new family. And that they are waiting for us, too, even if they might not know it.
What has struck me the most as I've worked with refugee families is that, until they arrived in the United States and someone explained to them that we were there to help them with their transition into this new world, they assumed they were on their own once they arrived. And that the first day, they thought the team of three or four people who greeted them and helped them get settled in their new home were the only ones that would be helping. And that, as the days unfolded and more and more people arrived to help with grocery shopping and English lessons and paperwork and school registration and social services and employment and the list goes on and on, they were stunned that so many people were invested in walking with them and giving them the tools they needed to be successful on this new journey. And that they were even more gobsmacked to learn that every single person was a volunteer, giving of their time and talents simply to help a family get a new start.
As our team waits and wonders about who this new family will be and what they will be like, somewhere there's a family hoping for a chance at a new start, not knowing that love that awaits them when they arrive.