Angels Along a Muddy Road

by Nonoy Catura

THE RAINS THAT raged the night before stopped in the early morning. The day promised a sunny countenance, but our group of church workers which had scheduled an outreach program that day was apprehensive in pushing through because the road near the mountains where we were going could either be muddy or flooded.

But we needed to go. I headed this group which was to bring books and toys to a far-flung school in the hinterlands of Morong, Rizal. And we also needed to remit some cash which we raised for a raffle draw of the school, and which were to be used for the building of additional classrooms.

The books and toys were placed at the back of a 4x4 pick-up truck, while I rode in our old van, a 1990 Chevy Astro, along with my wife, who drove, and three others. Six others were in the 4x4.

The Chevy Astro van, to those unfamiliar with its make, is a short stocky vehicle which could be mistaken for a getaway car of bank robbers, thanks to the movies that often use it as such. But if there was one thing which made this car different, it is the fact that it is a ton heavier than most vans its size.

The Astro led this 2-vehicle convoy which, in no time, suddenly found itself on the narrow dirt roads, several kilometers from the town proper. We rolled on slowly, passing puddles of water along the way, careful not to get stuck on the road as houses were far in between to get help.

My wife, who kept looking at the rearview mirror suddenly noticed a third car – a truck – right at the back of the 4x4 which was directly behind us. She said she was beginning to worry that this truck might find our convoy much too slow as she was finding it difficult to maneuver our vehicle because of the soggy road. And since the road was quite narrow, it was impossible for the truck to overtake us.

Then it happened. As my wife was negotiating an upward climb to the left, the van slipped back to the right because of the soft earth. We were stuck. A male colleague got down, as I did, to lighten the load. And each time that my wife stepped on the accelerator, the van would slowly veer downwards. The tires which were now caked in mud were helpless for lack of traction.

Then, from out of nowhere came several men; I saw them jump off the truck which was behind our other vehicle. The truck driver asked my wife if he could drive the van while his companions pushed the van from the sides as it appeared that our car was starting to lean dangerously. A few sudden jolts of the engine and the smell of burning tires, however, told us that we needed real help.

The truck driver then suggested that he would tow our car with his truck, after we got the 4x4 on the side to make way for their vehicle. He got a tow-cable – it looked brand new because it was still wrapped in its case – and looked for a spot on the chassis to wrap it around. But the mud and the stones which scrapped underneath as the car screeched downwards made it impossible to even get a peek from under. But the truck driver was unperturbed; he then suggested to tow the car downwards.

That suggestion told me right away that as soon as the truck pulled from the back, the front bumper would easily detach itself as it would scrap the soil and the stones right below because of the stress. I was resigned to seeing the bumper torn off its bolts, but deep inside, I prayed hard to God for a miracle.

And before my unbelieving eyes, He answered. Just as the truck tugged from behind, the front of our van slowly heaved upward as if some powerful arms were carrying them as it plowed downwards. The bumper just went over the compacted soil and stones and not a single scratch was made. As I said, anyone who knows about this van will tell you how heavy this is; five to six muscular men at least would be needed to even lift a few inches of it off the ground.

As we said our thanks to the truck driver and his men, a man who stood by the road and who was observing us closely said, “a few inches more and your van would have gone off the ravine.” “What ravine,” I asked; there is no ravine, my mind argued. “Right there,” he pointed at a spot, right where our van was about to move downwards just before the truck driver and his men came to help. The ravine, whose edge was hidden by tall grasses, was as a high as a two-storey building.

I had to shake myself to my senses right after the man said this not because we escaped a possible tragic scene, but because in that difficult moment, all of us felt God’s presence. And with the wind blowing around us, it seemed as if His angels whom he sent to help were just about to take off.

We left the van in a clearing. Some of us went with the 4x4, some on foot, and the older ones were fetched by the teachers on motorcycle. Just when we were resigned to having a rough and tough day, God made it a chance to further our spiritual growth by making us realize that as we do His work here on earth, especially when it concerns the least of His brethren, He will always be with us and will never abandon us. And no rain-soaked earth or ravine would ever deter us from claiming victory in His name.

We later found out from the teachers we were seeing that day that the truck which was following us was a bakery delivery truck and it seldom made the rounds of the place since it was too far away from the town proper. Indeed, by whichever I see it, help came to our group that day from the “Bread of Life” himself, with his strongest angels in tow.

(nscatura)