Angels In Disguise

That of Jesus is a love story, heavenly. Yes, this one is a love story too, earthly. The following story shows that you can find angels in unexpected places, even when you think the devil has found you! There are 4 angels in this story – see if you can find all of them! Your comment below. – Frank A Hilario 

December 31, 2018 at 5:57 PM. Reposting: THE MECHANIC (On New Year’s Day 2006, twelve years ago, in the year i was appointed Bishop) 

THE MECHANIC 

By Bishop Ambo David 

He approached me and said, "Sir, I can repair your car; I think I know what's wrong with it." It was around 5pm of New Year's Day; my old pickup had broken down in the middle of NLEX. I thought I was lucky enough to get stalled very close to the Petron gas station. I had just come from Kuya Randy's traditional New Year lunch party in his home in UP Diliman. 

The temperature gauge had gone way above the red line; the car was sputtering and white fumes were billowing from under the hood. It was then that I realized that none of the theology, hermeneutics, and linguistic analysis that I had studied abroad could be put to any good use for fixing a broken car. I had gone to the gas station shop and asked for a mechanic. The answer was, "Happy New Year, sir. Sorry no mechanic today. The garage is closed; our mechanics are on vacation." 

I had at least managed to open the car hood; but all I could do was look helplessly at an engine I knew absolutely nothing about. I could have called for help from my siblings but my little Jurassic Nokia cellphone had run out of charge. So this man came practically as a lifeline in a most desperate situation. "Thank God!" I said to him. "But I was told that the station mechanics were on vacation." The man explained that he was not an official station mechanic. He was from outside NLEX, just taking his chances that his services might be needed. He said he could borrow a bucket and fill it with water so that we could keep refilling the car radiator long enough for it to be able to exit from NLEX and reach his home garage. He had actually done an initial investigation and said a spare part was needed and that we could buy it outside NLEX, on our way to his place. Since I had no other choice anyway, I said yes to all his suggestions.

It was quite dark already when we got out of NLEX. I was driving the car myself and he was at the passenger side. His Tagalog had some Visayan accent in it so to break the ice I tried out my little Cebuano with him. He excused himself for knowing very little Cebuano; they speak Waray where he comes from. So my small talk didn't work; the man also didn't speak much. He asked me to stop in front of what looked like a shop for car parts and accessories. It was closed but he pressed the doorbell anyway. Out came a pot-bellied man with a bottle of Pale Pilsen in his right hand. The beer-drinking man was about to close the door after explaining that they were having a New Year party and that the shop was closed. But my mechanic held the door and pleaded on my behalf, explaining that I wouldn't be able to reach home if I couldn't buy the part needed for my car's repair. The shop-owner looked at me and then reluctantly opened his shop and was cussing as he looked for the part that we needed. He must have been on his tenth bottle of beer already. He reeked strongly of alcohol and spoke very incoherently but was able to give me the exact change after I paid.

We reached the end of the concrete road of an unfinished subdivision and started to enter a dirt road that had no street lamps anymore. There was in fact no electricity in the vicinity. I started to shudder at the thought that this man might be leading me to a holdup. "Is it still far?" I asked nervously, conscious that there was no way I could ask for any help if this man were to mug me in the middle of nowhere. He could actually make me stop in the middle of the road as there were no other vehicles, carnap my old pickup, hit me with the car engine wrench which was peering from the plastic bag right beside his seat, then dump my body in the thick cogon grass growing on either side of the dirt road. I was almost hyperventilating already when he announced that we had arrived at his home already. It was only then that I managed to calm down. It must have taken us a whole half hour ride from the mechanic shop.

It was very dark in the shack which he called his home because there was no electricity in it. By now I was telling him I was regretting that i had agreed to come along. Indignantly I asked, "How for heaven's sake do you intend to fix my car here where there's no electricity?" He said he had in his house a cable that could connect an incandescent light bulb to the car's battery, and that he'd call his wife and children to help him out. I hardly noticed the children circling around the pickup, some of them already carrying his tool box. I was so tired I fell asleep in the car while waiting. I am embarrassed to admit that I even locked the car doors as he did the troubleshooting. I can't recall now how long I had slept in the car. Later I was awakened by a tap on the window and a muffled voice that said, "Sir, please start the engine for a test." I was still half-dazed when I switched on the ignition and the car roared. The car temperature had re-stabilized and it looked like he had succeeded with the repair. "Your car is ok now, Sir," he said triumphantly. It was only then that I saw him smile. I asked how much I owed him for the service, and he sheepishly said, "It wasn't really a lot of work. Would 600 pesos be too much?" I was surprised that he was charging only that much, but perhaps he interpreted my reaction as one of doubt, so he said, "It's ok to close it at 500pesos if you feel it's too much, sir." I said, "Oh no, not at all. I'll give you one thousand and you may keep the change. I am so relieved that the car is ok already." The man was profusely grateful for what to him was a generous tip. His wife came out and said, "Sir I cooked some food. You might want to join us for supper, if you don't mind our humble food." I am used to invitations like these as mere expressions of politeness, but I don't know what got to me... i found myself saying "Yes, sure, that would be nice!" 

Inside the hut, dinner was served on top of a makeshift bamboo bed (papag) standing on a clean but earthen floor. There was a kerosene lamp next to the newly boiled rice that was steaming hot. There was nothing else but a dish of mixed vegetable stew called "laswa" in the Ilonggo region. Only I was given a spoon and a fork. They all ate with their hands. The woman had in her arms an infant who was drooling and sound asleep as she scooped rice with her dainty hands. Her husband was seated next to her, shooing away a fly every now and then from the infant's face as he chewed his food. I mixed my vegetable stew and rice and spooned the concoction; either I was hungry or it tasted really good. From my place, the kerosene lamp flickered and composed the scene that was unfolding before me. There were animals around: ducks, a piglet and a dog waiting for the scraps that fell from the papag. I looked and my eyes were suddenly transfixed on the couple and their infant child. The other children had disappeared in the dark background but were giggling and apparently eating too. Suddenly i was gripped by a fascinating mystery before me; I felt I was looking at the holy family. I said quietly to myself, "My God, I've been transported to Bethlehem!" The scene is still vivid in my mind as the most beautiful Christmas Belen I've ever laid eyes on. I couldn't describe the exhilaration inside me.

After dinner I played the magi's role. I had boxes of chocolates and biscuits in my pickup, given to me by brother Randy David who said i might find some children to give them away to. The kids were cheering with glee under the bright moonlight as they opened the boxes. The wife suggested to her husband that he accompany me on my way back or I might not find the access dirt road to the unfinished subdivision. The man said, "Yes, dear, I'll lead him all the way to the entry gate of NLEX. I can just take a tricycle home." I put my hand in my pocket to get some change for his tricycle fare but he protested and said I had given him enough already.

The road back to NLEX did not seem to take as much time. I was still able to engage my angel-mechanic in a conversation and managed to learn several things about him: that he was from Dumaguete, that he had married a Bulakeña from Marilao, that he had entered Petron through a back door praying that a car would break down and need his service as mechanic so that he'd earn a little and be able to buy a sack of rice good for one month. He said the last part with a hearty laughter.

He did most of the talking this time, as I made all the turns that suddenly brought me back to the NLEX north bound entry gate in Marilao. I said thank you again and realized only then that I still had not introduced myself. I said, "By the way, I am Father Ambo, a priest from Pampanga." The man beamed, clicked his fingers and said, "I knew it! Well, it was my wife who told me you were probably a priest. Thank you, Sir, for trusting me. I was afraid you were going to back out." I said, "actually I owe you an apology. I thought for a while you were going to mug me!" And we both laughed as he got off from the car. 

He was already waving goodbye when I opened my car window and shouted, "Sorry I didn't get your name!" He shouted, "My name is Joseph! Take care po Father Ambo!" I was speechless. It took a while before I waved back at him and mumbled, "Goodbye, Joseph!" And my eyes blurred with tears as I drove off and watched him waving from my rear mirror until he disappeared in the horizon. 

(Later, as I told the story to my siblings, I added this remark: Good God, if I had asked the wife what her name was and she had answered, "Mary", I would probably have passed out!)'