February 28 2026, a news broke and shocked the world. Trump-led America and Israel attached and bombed Iran. With a surprising turn of events, Iran retaliated to their neighboring countries harboring US military bases and facilities including the United Arab Emirates.
I have been an Overseas Filipino Worker (OFW) for the last 21 years entrusting my main source of income in a foreign land. Trump’s actions shook the entire gulf. Today marks the 30th day of the war and there’s no sigh of it ending soon with a possibility of escalating even furth looming.
My wife packed a large travel backpack. Not for travel. Not for adventure. Not for a weekend away. But for war. When tensions between Iran and the United States escalated, uncertainty stopped being abstract. It became logistical. Immediate. Real. So she did what any responsible wife and mother would do when the world feels unstable — she prepared.
Inside it: are a few sets of clothes. Our passports. Food and some cash and nothing more. One backpack with all essentials that I can carry.
While preparing the bag, she said she paused and looked around. Then she made a realization, in case it happens that we do need to leave abruptly, everything else around will be left. Because in a situation that demands survival, what’s not essential will only add weight and become burden.
I asked ChatGPT how this relates in my religion as catholic and what each essential item in the bag would represent in a spiritual sense:
The passport.
In a crisis, a passport determines where you can go. It verifies your identity. It opens borders. Without it, movement becomes restricted, uncertain, sometimes impossible. In a spiritual sense, this resembles faith and the integrity of one’s life. It is the inner credential — not issued by a government, but shaped by belief, intention, and action. Religion often frames life as a journey toward something beyond this world, and like any journey, entry requires more than desire. It requires legitimacy. Not in the legal sense, but in the moral and spiritual sense. Who you are, at your core, becomes your passport.
The cash.
Cash, in moments of instability, is not about luxury. It is about options. It buys time. It creates flexibility. It allows you to respond rather than react. In religious thought, this mirrors the idea of deeds — the accumulation of good actions, kindness, generosity, patience, restraint. Many traditions describe these as investments that extend beyond this life. Unlike money, which loses all relevance at death, the value of character compounds in ways we cannot immediately measure. What we give, how we treat others, the intentions behind our actions — these become a kind of spiritual currency.
The clothes.
We packed only what was necessary. Not what looked best. Not what made a statement. Just what would serve its purpose. Clothing, in many religious teachings, is often used symbolically — not as a measure of status, but as a reflection of modesty, humility, and readiness. It is not about how the body is presented to the world, but how the self is prepared for accountability. In the end, it is not the fabric that matters, but what it represents: simplicity, dignity, and awareness of something greater than appearance.
What it missed is the Food.
The food for me is the word of GOD. The Bible. The food of our Soul and how we understand HIS teachings.
And everything else?
Everything else stayed exactly where it was.
Untouched.
Unnecessary.
Irrelevant in that moment.
There is nothing inherently wrong with owning beautiful things. There is nothing wrong with working hard and enjoying the rewards of that work. But moments like this expose a subtle mistake we often make — we confuse possession with importance.