When a calling becomes absolute, everything else—logic, possessions, even family—must suddenly bend to its will. The journey to Jerusalem begins not with a careful plan, but with a terrifying leap of faith and a standoff that tests the very limits of a mother's resolve.
Mitch and I had once intended to visit Spain, a trip we ultimately did not push through because the bureaucratic procedure of securing a tourist visa for me was incredibly troublesome. Assuming I would face identical barriers now, I surfed the internet to find out if a Filipino citizen was required to secure a visa before traveling to Israel as a tourist.
To my total disbelief, it was not necessary. I could go to Israel anytime I wanted. The primary obstacle simply did not exist. I immediately called my travel agency and made a reservation for November 3rd to the 15th. When the agent told me that my plane would land in Tel Aviv, I naively asked if I could take a connecting flight from there directly to Jerusalem. I had no idea about the proximity of the two places. The agent informed me there were no flights between them, but I figured it would be no problem—I could find another way once I got there.
I anxiously waited for Mitch to come home that night so I could tell him about my plan. He never gave me a hard time whenever I asked for permission to visit the Philippines, but this was undeniably different. I was traveling to an entirely different part of the world, and I honestly didn't even know what I was going to do there.
When I woke up around four o’clock in the morning, I immediately drew the curtain connecting our spaces, hoping he was still awake. Though it wasn't uncommon for him to be up at that hour, I was still relieved to see the light in his room on. I gathered my thoughts and walked over from the school where I was sleeping. Incidentally, he was sitting there reading a book about religion.
Without much ado, I told him about my sudden decision to travel.
I was entirely ready to be scolded, but the reaction I received was far more severe. He didn't sound angry; instead, his voice grew terrifyingly serious, carrying a weight I had never heard from him before. He delivered a cold ultimatum: he demanded that if I couldn't take Michael with me to Israel, I must take him back to the Philippines first. Furthermore, if I really wanted to go through with this trip against his wishes, Mitch asked me to leave his house and the school permanently.
I accepted the terms, but I begged him to look after Michael while I was in Israel. I promised desperately that I would pick Michael up just as soon as I had a stable job and a place to live over there. Mitch repeatedly refused. We went back and forth, but in the end, faced with my sheer determination to leave regardless of consequence, he finally gave in and agreed to look after Michael.
Heavy with the weight of the agreement, I went back to my bed where Michael was sleeping to wake him up for school. Unlike ordinary days, he refused. He said he didn't want to go, and he began to cry. I genuinely could not blame him for his behavior. I had warned him of my plan the night before.
During that conversation, I remembered sharing the story of his birth with him, explaining exactly how I came up with his other name, Emmanuel A biblical name translating to "God is with us," heavily associated with prophetic destiny.. I reminded him that he was special, and that he needed to be good because he was going to work for God in the future. I had even asked him to start letting his friends call him by his name, Emmanuel. He had told me he couldn't, because everyone already knew him as Michael. Indeed, the name Emmanuel was only ever used when filling out official registration documents; he didn't even use it at his school in Japan.
But this morning, there was clearly another reason Michael was crying. He must have overheard my intense conversation with Mitch through the walls. He sobbed, telling me he did not want me to leave him alone with Mitch, even if I promised to come back.
Intending to ask Mitch to help me convince Michael to get ready for school, I went back to Mitch’s room and explained what was happening. Instead of helping, Mitch blamed me for the situation entirely.
I returned to my son. I sat with him and explained how I feared that his refusal to go to school could jeopardize everything, and how going could save us both from Mitch’s anger. "If you won’t go to school, we will both be scolded," I told him gently. "But if you’ll go, we will both be saved. He will see that we won."
Hearing that, along with some more pleading from me, Michael slowly began to wipe his tears. He moved to get up from lying on his stomach. I drove him to school later that morning, reassuring him again and again that things would be just fine.
Looking forward to my trip, an overpowering impatience took hold of me. I thought, *what difference would it make if I left soon or a week later?* I literally could not wait to see Israel. I decided to go as soon as I physically could.
I needed to check my funds, so I went to the bank to deposit all the coins I had saved and check my account balances. That same morning, I watched a TBN program featuring a guest they called the "cave prophet"—a man known for seldom coming out to share his prophecies. On this broadcast, he claimed that something great was going to happen by the end of October, right before Halloween.
Probably disturbed by our last conversation, Mitch was up early that day after only a few hours in bed. He was in a remarkably better mood. Given his shift in demeanor, I was able to convince him to give me two weeks of peace, without any opposition, so I could prove something about my faith. Astonishingly, before he left the house, he even handed me some cash to help cover the construction expenses back in the Philippines.
With things finally aligning with my heart's desire, I made the final absolute decision to go. I called the travel agency just before noon. I was told the departure time was at 2:55 in the afternoon. There was no way I could make it to the airport that quickly, so I asked the agent to book me for the following day, relieved to learn a flight was still open for reservation.
I immediately contacted the bus company to secure a seat on the night bus to Narita airport. Because it was a Friday night, I wasn't very optimistic, but fortunately, a seat was available, and I had it reserved for pickup later that evening.
While waiting for the travel voucher to arrive via fax, I began to prepare. I wanted to travel extremely light, so I only brought my usual backpack. Inside, I packed my passport, wallet, a pair of pants, a couple of shirts, some underwear, and a pen. In my wallet, I carried some cash, my credit card (which an earlier contact had suggested I bring), my alien registration card, and a photograph of me together with my two kids.
I then took an extra handbag made of linen specifically to carry my heavy DAKE Bible and my notebooks.
I gathered all my jewelry, my Philippine land titles, the keys to the car I was using, the cash Mitch had just given me, and my bank card with the pin number written on a piece of paper. I placed all of it inside my locker. It was a profound, physical break from my material life. I left the keys to the school and the locker with a note somewhere in his room, intending to call him later since he had forgotten his cellphone at home. I also bought some of his favorite food and drinks and arranged them on his table, while placing Michael’s favorites in the refrigerator.
I called my students to awkwardly inform them I wouldn't be meeting them for a while. My adult student for the 2:00 PM slot arrived at the school. She was the one who had introduced me to the dying priest in the hospital. I told her about my sudden trip, showed her a portion of the recorded TBN show, and demonstrated how to access their archives online.
It was getting late in the afternoon, but the travel agency still hadn't faxed my voucher. I contacted them again. The staff member explained she was having difficulty logging into the airline's website. Refusing to hang up and wait any longer, I opted to stay on the line until she succeeded. Fortunately, it didn't take much longer for her to confirm my booking. She took my credit card information, and because I was heading into such an unknown journey, I paid a bit extra for an open ticket. When the voucher finally faxed through, I was completely set to go.
I had to leave immediately to pick up my bus ticket before the office closed, and the station wasn't nearby. I hailed a taxi to the train station. As we slowed down and stopped at the first corner to turn left onto the main road, I happened to glance at the license plate of a car turning from the direction we were headed.
It was Mitch's car.
I told the driver to turn around and go back. I wondered why he had come home so early, but the timing felt undeniably extraordinary. He was still in the garage beside his car, carrying a bag of food, when the taxi stopped across the road and I got out. I called his name just as he was about to go up the stairs toward the house.
He looked surprised to see me there, but his shock deepened profoundly when I told him I was actually on my way to Israel right now. He immediately asked about the visa and the plane ticket, expressing total disbelief at how fast I had orchestrated everything. Shaking his head, he told me he was going to take me to the bus station himself. I took my things from the taxi, apologized to the driver, and compensated him for the service.
Because there was still some time left before the bus departed after I picked up my ticket, Mitch and I went to a nearby restaurant and had dinner together. He asked me about my plans, but I could tell him absolutely nothing with certainty. However, in an attempt to give him some peace of mind, I promised him I would try to be back after two weeks, just as we had discussed that morning.
When it was time to leave, he stood by the bus to see me off.
"See you after two weeks?" he asked.
Teasing him, despite the gravity of the moment, I smiled and said, "I don’t know."
This chapter documents the frightening acceleration of a spiritual calling demanding complete surrender. The willingness to abandon land titles, jewelry, and funds behind in a locker acts as a profound psychological severing from material security. Most importantly, the agonizing decision to leave her traumatized son under Mitch's ultimatum highlights the absolute, unavoidable gravity pulling her toward Jerusalem.