She wishes upon a star in a velvet night sky illuminated by a silvery moon. She waits for her time to become . . . to become the apple of her father's eye. Instead she longs even just to be a thought fleeting through her father's mind. Her father may not be dead, but she is dead to him. She is an orphan. And she looks like you. And she looks like me. She looks like the girl in the check out line. She looks like the girl at school. Will she remain unnoticed in the black of night, or will we come alongside her and point her to a Father who listens and cares?
"Religion that God our Father accepts as pure and faultless is this: to look after orphans and widows in their distress and to keep oneself from being polluted by the world." -James 1:27