Leaving Home, Coming Home: Daughter's Perspective

Luke 15: (ESV)13 Not many days later, the younger son gathered all he had and took a journey into a far country, and there he squandered his property in reckless living. 14 And when he had spent everything, a severe famine arose in that country, and he began to be in need. 15 So he went and hired himself out to [1] one of the citizens of that country, who sent him into his fields to feed pigs. 16 And he was longing to be fed with the pods that the pigs ate, and no one gave him anything.17 “But when he came to himself, he said, ‘How many of my father's hired servants have more than enough bread, but I perish here with hunger!18 I will arise and go to my father, and I will say to him, “Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you. 19 I am no longer worthy to be called your son. Treat me as one of your hired servants.”’ 20 And he arose and came to his father. But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and felt compassion, and ran and embraced him and kissed him. 21 And the son said to him, ‘Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son.’ [2] 22 But the father said to his servants, [3] ‘Bring quickly the best robe, and put it on him, and put a ring on his hand, and shoes on his feet. 23 And bring the fattened calf and kill it, and let us eat and celebrate. 24 For this my son was dead, and is alive again; he was lost, and is found.’ And they began to celebrate.

I was an angry adolescent, and during my last year of high school, I didn't care about my future.  

By force and peer pressure, I applied to the University of the Philippines (U.P.) in Diliman, Manila.  My second choice was U.P. Baguio.  Three months before university classes started, I walked up to the bulletin board in the Diliman campus, scanned through the names lined up in alphabetical order, and was relieved to find mine. But as I ran my finger to the course I was accepted in, I burst into a hoarse cackle.

"Sacha Calagopi--Baguio Campus--double major in the liberal arts."

I was accepted into the only school I applied to, but to the Baguio campus.  How was I going to survive the hill station that was devastated just a year ago?  I laughed again. What will I do without my friends?  I don't know how to live alone.  How will I cook?  Do my laundry?  Will my parents support me?  They were only there when I did something wrong.  I wasn't sure if they were going to provide for me.

That June of 1991, my Mom stuffed me into a Victory Liner bus along with herself, and we traveled through the barren lahar region of Angeles and the dizzying roads of Naguilian to arrive in Baguio more than eight hours after we left the decrepit station.  

I turned my face toward the window and cried under my breath throughout the bus trip.  I don't want to go to Baguio.  I don't want to leave my friends.  They're my only support group. I have no life skills.  I cried and I slept.  I cried and I slept.  And this went on for a day.

My mom shook me awake in the morning, pushed me into a taxi cab, dragged me into the university and helped me enroll.  She also found an ad for a room rental, so we looked at a fairly modern Baguio home. I agreed that I could live there and the contract was signed. My parents also promptly placed me on a one hundred peso a day allowance.  When I was in high school, I wasn't given a regular allowance, so I didn't know how to budget.  I also didn't know how to cook so I often ate in fast food restaurants.

I quickly learned that living alone incurs quite a few expenses.  I had to pay for my meals, my jeepney rides to school, my laundry.  I had to pay for cassette tapes that I wanted to buy and jeans that I wanted to wear.  I wanted to pay for books that I wanted to read.  I wanted, wanted and wanted, and the reality was that I couldn't pay for what I wanted.

I was also blaming my parents for not giving me enough money to live in Baguio.  They don't love me anyway and they can't fulfill my emotional needs so the least they could do is pay well for my stay here!  My resentment continued to build.

It wasn't long before I figured out how to get what I wanted.  My parents issued me checks for my allowance and rent.  And it wasn't long before I discovered that I could change the numbers and words on the checks and receive a higher amount than what my parents originally intended me to have.  Through the use of a sign pen, I was able to transform one thousand first transformed into seven thousand, and later on nine thousand.

I was always highly anxious when I forged these checks.  I remember praying and crying out to God and pleading for his forgiveness.  But at the same time, my desires for material things and the false perception of the satisfaction that it could bring, trumped my conscience. So I continued to forge.

Until one day, a check bounced.

Concurrently, I had decided to leave U.P. Baguio, so I had taken steps to apply to another university in Manila.  I took the test, submitted my application and was awaiting my acceptance letter.

The bank called my parents, and they were able to trace my thefts to the previous months. 

Needless to say my father was very angry.  His face was very red and his hand was lifted in the air, ready to hit me.  "Why, Sacha?  Why did you steal from me?  Haven't we given you everything?"  He asked over and over.

I remained silent. How could I tell him that I didn't feel love from him?  How could I tell him that I was angry at him, at the world? How could I tell him that since he didn't love me, I felt entitled to steal from him?  I wanted these things that I perceived he deprived me of.  I believed that those things would make me happy.

"I'm never going to support you anymore.  You're on your own," he yelled as I fled the room.

He sent one of his employees to U.P. Baguio to file for my honorable dismissal, and I spent one of the worst summers of my life.  

It was the summer of 1992, the tail end of the Aquino administration.  We had an energy crisis, which translated to back breaking ten hour blackouts, and a drunken haze for me.  I remember waking up, going to my best friend's house and playing pusoy dos, a Filipino version of poker. I remember going out almost every evening with some of my high school friends. We smoked pack after pack and chugged beer and scotch and tequila.

My life had no meaning, no purpose, no direction.  An endless cycle of card games and drinking.  I half-heartedly thought about looking for a job as a flight attendant.  But the call to the empty life that I lead seemed stronger at that time.  This went on for two months.

Then one day, my father woke me up.  "Dress up," he was curt.

Hungover and groggy, I put on my jeans and a Tin-Tin t-shirt, and my father drove me to Ateneo, the university that I eventually graduated from.

I entered the registrar's office and she handed me an enrollment form.  That day, my father also took me to the bank, opened up a savings account and promised to give me P2000 per month.  

He kept his word and never mentioned the incident of the forged checks again.

My father forgave me.  He also forgot.

It took me awhile to get my footing back in school.  I was able to live within a budget.  I never stole a cent again.  Eventually, I started doing well in university, and during my third year, I found a part time job, so I was able to stop asking for an allowance and begin to self support.

Sometimes, God presents us with earthly relationships to become a metaphor for our relationship with Him.  I was the prodigal daughter and my earthly father completely forgave me.  It is this forgiveness that has helped me become a productive citizen.

Twelve years later, I experienced the same forgiveness from my Heavenly father, when I decided to return, surrender my life to Him and humbly ask for His lordship over every area of my life.

It is His forgiveness and love that paved the way for me to reclaim my daughterhood, and become an active citizen of His Kingdom.

Shoot a prayer:

Is there anything in your life that you need to ask forgiveness for? Pray to your Heavenly Father.  It's time for you to go home.

A Miracle for Michael

Acts 12: ⁶ (The Message) Then the time came for Herod to bring him out for the kill. That night, even though shackled to two soldiers, one on either side, Peter slept like a baby. And there were guards at the door keeping their eyes on the place. Herod was taking no chances!

^7-9Suddenly there was an angel at his side and light flooding the room. The angel shook Peter and got him up: "Hurry!" The handcuffs fell off his wrists. The angel said, "Get dressed. Put on your shoes." Peter did it. Then, "Grab your coat and let's get out of here." Peter followed him, but didn't believe it was really an angel—he thought he was dreaming.

What I'm about to tell you is a true story. Names have been changed to protect the privacy of the people involved.

My cousin, Michael, was kidnapped a few weeks ago. 

Jackie, Michael's sister, owned an internet cafe in a dodgy part of Las Pinas, Manila.  Jackie, Michael and Angelo were hanging out in the cafe and closing time was a few minutes away.  

Five gunmen barged into the internet shop.  Jackie, following the wise instructions of her father, was calm.  She willingly handed over the cafe's cash box.

"Here's the money," she informed one of the gunmen.  She gently pushed him.  "Now go away."

He clasped her wrist as he broke into a cold sweat and quivered from nervousness.

"What the hell.  I gave you the money.  Now go away!" Jackie firmly said.

Michael was standing on the sidelines and immediately understood what the gunmen donning ski masks wanted to do.  "Take me instead," he volunteered.

The gunmen proceeded to stuff Jackie, Angelo and the security guard into the bathroom.  

Julian instinctively handed over his swiss knife to Jackie.  "This is from my girlfriend.  Keep it."

"Make sure you don't open the door and go out," warned one of the gunmen in Filipino.  "I'm leaving a grenade by the door so if you open it, you will be killed."

The kidnappers locked the door from the outside and proceeded to take Michael, their willing victim, to Jackie's car.

Meanwhile, Jackie, Angelo and the security guard used the swiss knife to cut through the bathroom window's wiring.  They were able to escape, contact my uncle and ask for help.

The next day, my cousin's family pleaded for prayers through phone calls, text messages and Facebook.  I received chain emails from people who didn't know Michael, appealing for his release and our vigilance.  Family members and friends leaned on God, trusted Him, pleaded with Him and constantly supported Michael's parents and siblings. My uncle even mentioned that there were nuns from the southern part of the Philippines dedicating their prayer time to the unequivocal release and safety of Michael.

During one of my prayers, God was reminding me about a story in the bible--Peter's rescue from prison(Acts 12: 6-11).  He wanted me to share this passage with my aunt, but I felt that it would be insensitive for me to tell my aunt, "Hey, guess what?  Michael will be rescued by an angel."  The next day, I prayed for Michael again and God kept reminding me about the same passages.  So I texted my aunt to read them.

Unbeknown to me, Jackie's boyfriend, Ramon, had a similar vision.  While he was praying he saw himself rise to the clouds and there he encountered an angel.  He sensed that the angel was on its way to rescue Michael.

Now back to Michael and the kidnappers. Throughout this ordeal, Michael remembered the book The Zombie Survival Guide by Max Brooks.  He used the tips in the book to help him remain mindful and safe in his perpetrator's hands.

The kidnappers stuck masking tape over his eyes and asked him to wear sunglasses with small frames.  Michael was able to loosen the masking tape and see where the kidnappers where taking him through the corner of his eye.  He memorized the way from the Las Pinas cafe to the Bulacan safehouse.

He befriended the kidnappers by smiling, asking them how they were and engaging them in small talk.  He even played hand games with one of them.  He was also clever in his conversations.  

"You live in Ayala Alabang, don't you?" asked one of the gunmen, referring to a posh subdivision in Manila.

"Sir," Michael answered in Filipino.  "I fought with my father so my family lives in Alabang but I live in Las Pinas," he said referring to the poverty stricken area near the internet cafe.

"Where do you go to school?," another gunman asked.

"I go to the University of the Philippines.  I'm a scholar taking fine arts."  In reality, Michael attended one of the more expensive universities in the city.

Michael also shared that he was a four time judo champion.  It was his way of protecting himself from physical harm.

The kidnappers didn't carry enough money with them to pay for the highway toll, so they used the cash stolen from Jackie's internet cafe.  They brought Michael to the first safehouse located in Bulacan.  He was tied and placed in a corner with chairs surrounding him.  A young lady carrying an infant served and fed him.

Meanwhile, my uncle, a very prayerful man and the head of his family, decided to go to the police.  It's unusual for a family with a kidnapped victim to seek help from the police because one, the police are usually inefficient, and two, the family will not be allowed to pay off the kidnappers. This can ultimately lead to the death of the victim.

I mentioned that my uncle is the undeniable head of the family because in many families undergoing the same situation, the spouses aren't in agreement as to where to seek for help, how much to negotiate down to and other details surrounding the kidnapping.  In Michael's family's case, the family members agreed and supported all of my uncle's decisions.

My uncle decided to contact PACER (Police Anti-Crime Emergency Response).  This is an elite group of policemen directly under the president.  But more importantly, they were known for being highly  successful in handling kidnap-for-ransom cases.

Concurrently, Michael, was picked up by another branch of the kidnap-for-ransom gang.  He was taken from Bulacan to the Pangasinan safehouse.

Michael described the room he was stationed in.  It was the family home of one of the kidnappers.  Besides the gang, the kidnapper's wife and child lived in the home.  The windows were opaque and jalousies were installed to discourage his escape.  He was given a bed, towel and bar of soap.  From inside the bathroom, he peered through the hollow block walls.  He was in the middle of a rice field and in the distance he saw huts that were built with bamboo and cogon leaves.  The home where he stayed in was the only one made from concrete.

He spent the next few days in Pangasinan praying and again, remembering tips from The Zombie Survival Guide.  

He noticed a hanging nail on the wall.  He proceeded to yank it out, cut through the layers of his cargo pants and let it slide to the bottom of his hem.  The nail was his weapon, just in case he needed to fight.  At the same time, he didn't want the kidnappers to find it in his pocket.

At one point, he was very bored.  He asked one of the gunmen for a piece of paper.  He handed him the notebook of the child who lived in the house.  When Michael opened the notebook, he read the names of the family members.  He knew that he could be killed for obtaining this information so he memorized the names and flushed the paper down the toilet.

The kidnappers played with Michael's mind.  There were moments when they would tell him that his father was about to pick him up.  At other times, he would hear them talk outside of his room--they were plotting to kill him.  They drank alcohol during the day and slept with him in the room during the evening.

After a few days, my cousin was becoming emotionally weary.

Another time, the kidnappers celebrated a child's birthday in the house.  My cousin, who had gotten used to the rice with soy sauce that they fed him, was now delivered spaghetti.  They opened his door and as he received the food, a child peered into the room and their eyes met.

It was then that Michael realized that the people in the town where he was staying in, knew that a kidnap victim resided in that home.  He was livid with anger.

At the same time, PACER was beginning to discover where the kidnappers where hiding Michael. A councilor from Bulacan was kidnapped three months previous.  The councilor remembered the exact location of the safe house and was able to sketch the layout and share where Michael might be.

At six in the evening of Michael's last day, he felt hopeless.  He called one of the gunman.

"Please send me back home to my family.  I can't stay here anymore," he pleaded.

"Uuuuh, I'll tell the others."  The gunman left and joined the others to drink on the patio.

Michael plunged into deep despair. He fell on his knees.  "God, can you hear me?"  

A bird tapped on the metal ceiling of the safe house.  

"God, I surrender my life to you.  My life is in your hands," he cried.  "At least it wasn't Jackie.  If you want to take me, I'll follow your will.  My life is in your hands."

He wept hard for thirty minutes and was half asleep from emotional exhaustion.

Concurrently, the PACER team surrounded the Pangasinan safe house.  At six thirty, two policemen kicked the gates down and pointed their guns to the kidnappers.

The kidnappers did not surrender.  Instead they ran into the house to get their firearms.  The police started shooting.

Michael, to avoid the crossfire, pushed his bed against the door and lay down on the floor.

A policeman kicked Michael's door down.  "Are you Michael?" he shouted.

"Yes, I am."

"Come with me."  Michael caught sight of the man's arm.  Tattooed on it was a pair of angel's wings.

"Wait," Michael replied. "I need to get my shoes."  He jammed his feet into his shoes and him and the policeman darted out of the house and into an SUV.

A few seconds later, one of the kidnappers entered Michael's room carrying a gun and ready to kill.  A policeman shot him dead.  Within five minutes, all gunmen were killed.

My cousin was rescued and not a centavo was paid.

The policemen collected the dead kidnappers' mobile phones.  One text message read, "Kill the pig. There's another one lined up."

The family and authorities took precautions so the press wouldn't get word of what had happened.  This would give PACER enough time to catch gang members who weren't in the Pangasinan safehouse.

But word leaked out to the press.  The people in the community complained about the five deaths.  They said that the killings were a human rights violation.

I pray for them.  I pray for renewed mind and heart.

And, the day that Michael was rescued was on Jackie's birthday.  Her best present yet.

Shoot a Prayer:

What crisis are you currently going through?  Ask God for a miracle and believe that He will deliver in His perfect timeing.