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I believe that angels exist; I also believe that each human being is assigned a guardian angel soon as it’s pulled out of its mother’s womb. In a homily, a priest once said that “these winged spirits had always been there, long before Adam and Eve were even created.” Go through the Holy Book that is replete with evidence of their existence; but let’s not be swayed by artists’ notions that cherubs are baby angels structured with faces and wings without bodies, for, nobody really knows.

What matters is that they are God’s creative masterpieces, not what they look like, i.e. whether they’re male or female, short or tall, or genderless but can assume human form, etcetera. After all, we usually need to see to believe, right? But that’s not so in my case, because I have actually experienced two factual events that deepen my spiritual understanding of these celestial beings. Here’s my story.

Sometime ’round 1995, I was driving westward along Quirino Avenue at three in the afternoon. I was trying to catch a matinee ballet performance at the Cultural Centre, and as I prepared to turn left on Roxas Blvd., a motorcycle cop suddenly sped up from behind, slowed down, then motioned me to turn right. I obeyed, although irritated, as I knew I had done nothing wrong. I parked my Corona some ten yards away from the curb, turned off the engine, and waited for him to give me an undeserved lecture. I sure was in no mood to be nice because I was already late.

I stepped out as he parked his machine behind mine. As he smilingly approached me (what the heck was he smiling about??) I stared him down while noting his very distinct features. He was about 6 feet tall, husky, dark-skinned, wasn’t wearing his helmet and shades, sported a crew cut, and had a large black mole on his left temple. But before I could give him a mouthful, he directed me to re-enter my car and, again, I obeyed.

As I reached into the glove compartment for my papers, two deafening explosions set the intersection aflame. Through the shock and horror of it all, I noticed that the cop who was just outside my door wasn’t there anymore, and neither was his motorcycle. I then moved the Corona away by another ten yards, determined to commit to memory the startling event with as many of its details as possible, such as, first and last, the cop’s mysterious disappearance, including a fleeting glimpse of a dump truck losing its brakes or going out of control, and crashing against vehicles at the intersection.

As I stood beside the Corona, I started to pray for those who were trapped inside three vehicles that had apparently been struck with a force that must have caused some people kilometers away to fear we had come under external attack. It was only when a firetruck arrived that the flames and black smoke billowing out of the ill-fated cars were placed under control. I then noticed that one of the three cars involved in the accident was a yellow cab that had earlier been following me along Quirino Blvd. I was saved because I turned right. The cab driver and his two passengers perished because he proceeded to cross the intersection. I then began to think and wonder.

Some two months later, I was in a mall making my way out of National Bookstore after I’d bought a few things. Since the check out line was long, I couldn’t call the attention of a man dashing through numerous shoppers until he disappeared in the crowd. He was donned in rubber shoes, a pair of faded denims and a white T-shirt; he was about 6 feet tall, dark and husky, and sported a crewcut and a large black mole on his left temple.

I would later learn that someone answering that description was responsible for the apprehension of two robbers as they tried to make a getaway from a jewelry store. I would also find out he politely remained silent when asked if he was a cop, and that he simply walked away and disappeared in the crowd shortly after the incident.

Today, I do not think and wonder anymore. He was an angel; but, was he my guardian angel? I wish I knew.

by Ronald Roy
October 24, 2014

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