In The Arms of The Angels

Saturday Stories 

November 3, 2018

I

I want to share a story I never told anyone before. It happened on July 2007 in Avenida, or Rizal Avenue, in Manila. It was around nine in the evening. I was walking from the Santa Cruz district to Tayuman, on the way to the funeral of one of my closest and most loyal friends. Then in the corner of Mayhaligue, four men tried to mug me. They just walked up from behind and surrounded me. One had a knife just below my right rib. They took me in front of a locked establishment where it was dark, and pinned me to the accordion gate.

II

I have kept it a secret all these years. Why? Because it is totally unbelievable. If it hadn't happen to me, I may not have believed it myself. First, I felt so calm, my mind was so quiet, that emotions seemed irrelevant. And second, and even more inexplicable, is that they just went away. Yes, they just suddenly walked away. I did not do nor say anything. They also said nothing and did nothing, not even to reach into my pockets. One of them tried to get my watch, but their leader dragged him away. No one had come, no lights blazed nor sirens blared nor any shots rang. There was no reason why they would leave – but I'm glad they did. I was not hurt in any way, and I wasn't scared at all. Weird.

III

I started to walk as if nothing happened. A young man on a bicycle under the streetlight asked me if they had taken anything. I told him No as I passed him, and I have to admit it was the most embarassing moment of my life. It was not the first time that I've been so calm in a situation where the normal response would be fear. But for what it's worth, I'd rather be me than be normal. The only reason I mention it now is because of "A Book of Angels: Reflections On Angels Past and Present, and True Stories of How They Touch Our Lives" by Sophy Burnham. Apparenly I'm not the only one who had these kinds of experiences, and there is great comfort in knowing that.

IV

So I wanted to write a short four-paragraph note about angels. I began to type on a Notepad, just letting the words flow. When I saw it is becoming too intimate (and too long), I also realized that the most authentic story I could tell is my own. More than once I have asked a silent question, then I felt an impulse to do something that led to an answer. And many times I've asked for signs, and they would come, mostly in unexpected ways like a song on a radio or in the shirt design of a complete stranger. Some people would say that those things – and what happened to me that night in Manila – are just coincidences. They probably are. Yet ... something ... tells me they are not.

Photo courtesy of JeanMHheimann.com