The second to the last day, we settled up with our tour guide Jacob. I had been under the impression that he was going to take a credit card but evidently there was a translation mistake between him and Paul. Jacob did not use credit cards and I owed him a thousand dollars for the many tours he hosted. I talked Jacob into taking a post dated check but even though this bought me an extra week, I did not know for sure if I would have the money when it came time for him to cash it.  Hopefully, when I returned home, there would be many checks accumulated  from my donors who send in their contributions at different times of the month. Still, that was money which needed to go for ordinary bills, but perhaps there would be something extra.

Waking up on the following morning, my very last day, I did not want to go home. I felt saddened that my two week adventure was coming to a screeching halt. I had always known I would enjoy Israel, but I had no idea I would love it as much as I did. If only I could stay an extra week or two.

My last day was packed with events. It began with an opportunity to hear Benjamin Netanyahu speak live. In fact, we got VIP seats because the future father-in-law of my niece was in Israel arranging this very conference.

Despite Netanyahu’s reputation for being Hawkish, he still talked about giving more money to the Palestinians. Supposedly, that would discourage them from following terrorists. I love these Israelis but I wonder how many of them understand that the Palestinians simply want them dead, money or no money. I have had many conversations about Israeli politics these last two weeks. Somehow, it seems poetic and melancholy to hear the same naive plan for peace even from a  right wing hero who may be the next Prime Minister.

My brother had to go back to work after the speech. He arranged for me to be picked up by a shuttle at 7:00 sharp in front of his house, to drive me from Jerusalem to Tel Aviv, my gateway to America.

Before heading back to Paul’s home, I walked into the old city of Jerusalem for one last tour, the tunnels in the old city of King David. They were fascinating, but when the tour was over, I was hot, tired and eager to get back to the house for a shower before my long flight. For this reason, I decided to take a cab instead of hiking back to Paul and Carol’s house. The driver was quite friendly and asked me many questions about my trip to Israel. After the cabbie learned that I was returning home this very evening, he tried to talk me into letting him drive me to Tel Aviv. I thanked him for the kind offer and assured him that my transportation had already been provided.

After showering, I started to pack. This was when it hit me like a jarring bolt of hostile lightning: My passport was no where to be found. When a person first loses his passport, he experiences about ten to fifteen minutes of denial.

“No, this can not be happening. Just look more carefully. I must have dropped it on the floor. Maybe I already stuck it in my suit case.”

For the last two weeks, I was careful to a fault. I had been told never to travel around a foreign country without having my passport on me. Not only did I carry the passport in my pocket, I checked every few minutes to make sure it was there. I did this minute after minute, hour after hour, day after day, for the entire two weeks. I doubled checked so frequently, it would have looked paranoid to anyone watching. I checked and double checked and triple checked to the point of being neurotic. And now, after all the acute overdone concern, I had not only lost my passport anyway, but I had lost in on the very last day!

It had to be in the cab. That was the last place I saw it, in my pocket as I got cash out to pay the driver. But I did not get the driver’s name or number. He was a free-lance Arab cab driver and there was simply no way to track him down, no phone number to call. I did call the American consulate’s office. “No problem getting you a new passport,” they told me. “It’s good that you made a photo copy. That will help expedite the process. But we are still talking about a few days, maybe even a week before you’ll be able to return home.”

Now, going home was all I wanted to do. At this moment, I was as eager to return home as I had been eager to stay in Israel this morning. I felt like a fool for losing my passport, even more foolish since the loss was preceded by such care.

I prayed in desperation. “I love it here, God, but please, I want to go home and I want to go home today.” I guess there is something about being compelled to stay that takes the joy out of a trip. We are indeed creatures influenced by psychology.

At 6:55, exactly five minutes before the Tel Aviv shuttle was scheduled to pick me up, the cabbie returned with my passport. He had found it ans rushed it to my brother’s house (thankfully remembering the address) and doing so at the expense of refusing a new customer. He remembered that I needed the passport tonight.

I don’t have to tell you how grateful we were, even though he insisted on being paid for his efforts.

” I was going to take a couple into Tel Aviv tonight, ” he said to Paul. “I lost 300 dollars to bring you your brother’s passport, so I think you should pay me 300 dollars.”

Paul paid him 100 dollars because he didn’t believe the story, yet he knew he was not going to get my passport back without paying him something. I reimbursed Paul, but the 100 dollars was worth it. I had my passport and the timing could not possibly have been more miraculous.

“Of course it was a miracle,” Paul and Carol said.  “Israel is the land of miracles.”

I believe that. But God has also done miracles for me in many places.

One hour from Jerusalem to Tel Aviv. Twelve hours from Tel Aviv to Georgia. Four hours from Georgia to San Diego. When I finally walked through my front door, the first thing I did was listen to my cat whine and ball me out for having deserted her for two weeks.  Next, I checked my mail, thinking about the 1000 dollar check I had written the day before. Waiting for me was an unfamiliar looking envelope. While opening the envelope, I felt like I was being greeted by a friend.  Inside, was a check for exactly 1000 dollars. The God from the land of miracles also lives in my home.

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