I wrote a response to the recent news.
It was powerful and raw and true. I described a beautiful moment of how Vista Maria was here as a safe haven for a kid who really needed us.
You will never see it. I can’t share it with you.
I can’t even tell you when or where or how it was.
I can’t tell you her name. I can’t show you her picture. I can’t put a microphone in front of her or put her on FaceTime and capture a powerful quote about how Vista Maria changed her life. She deserves more than that. She deserves privacy.
But I can tell you this: when the world hit her with its worst, we wrapped her in safety and told her, “You are not alone.”
You won’t see her story in the headlines. The news might show you one view of Vista Maria, but what you don’t see are the million quiet moments that we just can’t tell you about—moments of hope, of healing, of staff standing guard, ready to catch kids when the world drops them.
And you don’t see them because they aren’t meant for cameras or soundbites.
They’re meant for the dignity of the child who gets to try again tomorrow, who gets to grow up and begin anew, because someone was here to protect her and let her story be hers.
To some, she might be “Client A” in a binder of 700 sheets. But to us, she is everything.
— A Vista Maria Staff