AN ANGEL STORY

This story was printed in the U Matuna, the newspaper for the Archdiocese of Agana, Guam, September 30, 2012.

When I was ten-years old, my two-year old brother, Chris, was run over by a van - twice. My dad had been working on the family van in the driveway, and, unbeknownst to him, Chris had crawled under the van. Dad had finished fixing whatever he was fixing and was in the washroom cleaning his hands when Mom got in the van to go somewhere.

I still remember my dad's scream when, through the washroom window, he saw my mom back the van over Chris. Mom didn't know what she had run over. She had felt the bump and probably thought it was a tool or something. So she went forward to get off of the "bump" and ran over Chris again.

Again my dad screamed, and Mom, paralyzed with fear, stopped the van on top of Chris, the right front wheel sitting on the base of his neck.

Dad tore out of the washroom door, and, in what seemed to be an eruption of arms and steel, ripped open the back doors of the van, grabbed the jack, and furiously cranked the 3000 pound van off Chris while in a mix of shock and grief, Mom sobbed “Hail Mary’s”.

Even though this happened many years ago, I can replay the entire event in my mind with great detail. But the thing I remember most was the strange sense of peace I felt despite the horror before me. I remember even smiling as I watched. The whole thing felt “under control” though I didn’t know why...at least not then.

There are no words to describe the look on my parents’ faces when they brought Chris home from the hospital a few hours later. Chris was badly bruised and the tire tread was visibly embedded across his back, but not a single broken bone or damaged organ, and quite alive.

Needless to say, Chris was ever thereafter my mother’s favorite child and none of the rest of her eight children ever begrudged her a bit. But near-death experiences were not over for Chris.

As a teenager, he rolled his jeep down a mountain but managed to crawl out the badly mangled wreck. And a few days before his wedding, Chris and his fiance lay upside down in a pickup truck in the middle of an intersection. Another vehicle had run a red light and Chris’s truck had slammed into it so hard that it had flipped over the other vehicle and landed upside down.

At the wedding, Chris’s bride hobbled up the aisle in a cast and both were covered with cuts and bruises.

Guardian angels? Yes, perhaps. And perhaps that's why God gave us Chris on September 29, the Feast of St. Michael and the Archangels.

You might say that "Happy Birthday" has a special meaning for Chris...and for those of us who remember seeing his two-year old body underneath the van that day.  

Of course, what we didn’t see was his Guardian Angel holding up the van till my dad could get the jack under it.

Happy Birthday, Chris.

Guardian Angels, you say?

My brother, Chris, was born September 29,  40 something years ago. When he was 2, he was run over by a van, twice. Chris had crawled underneath the family van in our driveway. My dad had been working underneath the van and didn't notice that Chris had crawled in after him.

Chris is the one with the halo! 

Dad had finished fixing whatever he was fixing and was cleaning his hands when Mom got in the van to go somewhere. I still remember my Dad's scream when he saw Mom back the van over Chris. Mom didn't know what she had run over. She had felt the bump. Perhaps she thought it was a tool or something. So she went forward to get off of the "bump" and ran over Chris again.

Again Dad screamed and Mom, paralyzed with fear, stopped the van on top of Chris. I can remember Dad tearing open the back of the van to get the jack. He jacked the van up off of Chris, pulled him out, and of course drove like a mad man to the nearest emergency room.

Somethings you never forget, like the look on my parents' face when they came home with Chris, complete with tire marks embedded in his two year old back, but not a single broken bone, and quite alive. A miracle, yes. Needless to say, Chris was ever thereafter, my mother's favorite son. And I never begrudged her a bit.

Adventures were not over for Chris. As a teenager, he rolled his jeep down a mountain. The jeep was totaled, Chris manged to crawl out with a few cuts and bruises. About a week before his wedding a few years later, Chris and his fiance lay upside down in his pickup truck cab. Someone had run a red light and Chris had plowed into the side of the other vehicle so hard that his truck flipped over the other car and landed upside down in the intersection.

Chris and his wife were married a few days later - his wife in a cast and both of them with severe cuts and bruises.  Guardian angels you say? Perhaps that's why God gave us Chris on September 29, the Feast of St. Michael and the Archangels. You might say that "Happy Birthday", has a special meaning for Chris...and for those of us who remember seeing his 2 year old body under the wheel of the van that day. What we didn't see was St. Michael and his fellow Archangels holding it up till Dad got the jack under it. 

Happy Birthday, brother.

Guardian Angels? You never know....

Yesterday was my 55th birthday. I was kind of thinking that things were going a little too well. Had a real estate closing, a new listing, a positive business presentation, a promising "showing", several phone calls that could lead to good business. My kids called me up and sang happy birthday on the phone. 

There was a party at home for my son Michael and me (we share the same birthday). I had planned to hurry home after my last appointment. I got in the car and headed home and immediately my car stalled and wouldn't start. I was out of gas. I've never run out of gas in my whole driving life. And it was late and dark and I was stuck on one of the steepest roads on Guam and all the gas stations were at the top of the hill.