5 Kimiko's Travel Agent

A Christian serviceman stationed in Hawaii heard about me and approached me after church.

If you want missionary training, there's a good Christian college where I'm from. Why don't you pray about going there?"

With God's green light I began packing my things for a trip to the States.

"You be sure to look up my folks when you get in town--my Dad's a cabdriver there--and I'm sure they'll give you all the help you need."

So, with a heart full of expectation and with the encouragement of loving friends and family, I boarded the ship bound for San Francisco.

The war was not yet over; only the very naive would hope for a smooth trip in such unstable conditions.

But that was just what I was: naive. My sole experience in travel planning was in making sure I made the island bus on time.

But the Lord Himself was my travel agent, and He had arranged every leg of the journey, assuring me:

"I will instruct thee and teach thee in the way which thou shalt go"
Psalm 32:8a

We had pulled out into the ocean, and I was standing on deck admiring the vast expanse of water, when a fellow passenger came up to me.

"Do you know what that is?" he asked, pointing to a tugboat out in the waves.

I had noticed the vessel circling our ship ever since we left harbor. "No; what is it?" I asked.

"It's a sub chaser." Our ocean liner was travelling through submarine-infested waters. The sturdy boat was fully armed, ready to dispose of any enemy threats lurking nearby.

Our ship made it all the way to San Francisco, however, without a single encounter with danger.

When I left Hawaii, I hadn't told anyone in California to meet me when I arrived. I'd never travelled before, and I didn't know such arrangements were necessary. Neither had I thought about lodging for the night.

Well, the Lord knew. And He sent His own welcoming party: the FBI.

Because of the war, no Japanese were to be on the west coast. They had all been moved inland or detained in internment camps. And here I was, a Japanese American, coming unannounced into California.

When the ship docked, FBI agents came on board and escorted the Niseis (second-generation Japanese Americans) to awaiting limousines. We--there were four or five of us--were taken to a hotel, up to the fifth floor. There, we were questioned as to our purpose of travel in the United States.

"Your name?"

"Kimiko Kaneshiro."

"Where are you going?"

"Illinois."

"and with what purpose?"

"I'm going to a Christian college, for training to become a missionary."

"I see. And when does your train leave for Illinois?"

"I don't know. I haven't bought a ticket yet."

"You what?" He let out a groan. "Miss, this is wartime. The military has free use of cross-country trains for transportation of troops. Didn't you know civilians need to make reservations at least three months in advance?"

I hadn't known.

The agent picked up the phone, dialed the train station, and told the party on the other end of the line: "I have a girl bound for Chicago. Put her on."

That was it. Put her on.

God knew I didn't need to make lodging arrangements; He had prepared a hotel for me. God knew I didn't need three months to make a train reservation; He had secured a ride with three words.

The next day I was placed on a first-class coach and a woman agent was assigned to be a personal escort. By now I had proven, I suppose, what a simpleton I was, that "this girl really needs help." Also, the country needed to make certain this Japanese got to where she said she was going.

"Is everything all right?" My coach door would open from time to time throughout the train ride. "If you need anything, let me know."

Field after endless field of wheat passed my window. We must've been traveling for hours, yet...more wheat.

As the train neared Chicago, the conductor came to my cabin.

"I've been told your destination is a suburb of Chicago," he said. "These cross-country trains usually don't stop between the big cities, but since you're a first-class passenger, we'll be making a special stop. Get your things together and be ready to get off when we slow down."

I grabbed my suitcase and hopped off the train, the only passenger to disembark there. As the train pulled away, I looked behind me, to the right and left, and across the tracks. Here I was, safely at my destination.

"But oh, my dear Christian college, where are you?" I wondered. I had no idea where the school was.

But as I looked down the train platform, I noticed a cabstand nearby with one taxi waiting.

Surely a taxi driver would know.

"Where to, Miss?" he asked as I walked up to the car.

"The Christian college, please."

"Hop in."

We chatted after awhile.

"And where are you from?" the driver asked.

"Hawaii."

"Really now! You're quite a ways from home! What brings you?"

"I want to study, to become a missionary." I replied.

Silence. Then: "You must be Kimiko."

It was my turn to be silent.

How did this stranger, thousands of miles from Hawaii, know my name? Then it dawned on me.

"You must be...your son is stationed in Hawaii...."

Yes, this cabdriver had received a letter from his son in the navy telling of a Japanese girl's desire to train for missionary service at the college in his hometown.

"So, you see, I've been waiting for you."

This man drove me to the school (I'd neglected to tell them I'd be coming in the fall, so the dorms were closed for the summer!), then found a home for me to stay as well as a part-time job to help pay my way through school.

Wartime conditions--negative factors, humanly speaking--merely served to make God's power undeniable. A sub chaser, the FBI, hotel and train reservations, an unscheduled stop, a single cabdriver...God had custom-made these elements to meet my need.

To those who would follow Him, God promises:

"I will guide thee with mine eye." Psalm 32:8b

Such a God I can trust, I do trust, with my life.