October 15, 2002

"Here is a test on whether or not your mission on earth is complete.  If you are still alive, it isn't." ~Richard Bach

    The day I landed and looked out to see a terminal  appearing the size of a tiny gas station, my apprehension only grew.  I didn't like this place.  Though I was met there by two of the corporate big-wigs, I didn't feel comfortable and the 100 degree heat didn't make it any easier.  Charlie assured me Waco was in fact, a nice place to live and that the scene of the David Koresh, Branch Davidian cult headquarters was nothing more than a plot of land now.  Call me a sicko, but that was the only thing I thought would be of interest on this trip;  if only to stop by to say a prayer for all the people who perished there.  Charlie told me that Waco was trying to get past the tragedy and that very few were willing to take "tourists" to see the site.  It made sense and I felt sorry for wanting to go there.  Still, the energy I was feeling was negative.  I wanted to go home.

  We went directly to the tiny hotel, where he checked me in and dropped off my baggage.  We were off to class in a matter of minutes.  All the way there I wondered how I'd be received being the only woman.  I admit to being intimidated, knowing that I have a strong history of projecting myself as too happy-go-lucky, which in the business world translates as, "dumb blonde".

     There I stood in a room full of men, who had all ready spent the morning getting to know one another over coffee.  They were chatting and joking among themselves and staring over at me inquisitively.  There wasn't a soul there I knew and I felt so out of place. I called on my angel for courage.   Within minutes, Charlie's boss walked through the doorway accompanied by Antonio, a new franchisee from California.  They were returning from lunch and I was introduced in passing.   Antonio greeted me warmly and then walked up the aisle to his seat.  something prodded me to follow him, so I did.  I took the seat next to him.

     The class was non-descript.  We learned how to keep a calendar and make appointments?  Was this what I'd traveled across the country for?  Antonio and I whispered jokes back and forth and at the break he looked at me and said, "Why did you sit next to me?".  I laughed and said, "Because the seat was empty.".  He smiled and with a nod said, "I thought so.  It wasn't because I am so shy and bashful you felt sorry for me?".  I rolled my eyes.

     For the time being at least, I relaxed.  God had sent an angel by way of Antonio to set my mind at ease.  I didn't know it then, but God had also called ahead with my retreat plans.  That evening, I had dinner with the three men (Antonio included), who were also staying in my hotel.  It was an exceptional evening.  I'd gone into that classroom feeling inferior, fearing I'd be treated as a dumb blonde.  I didn't learn until our dinner, that I was the only one in the class who'd been in our business for more than just a few months.  I sat like a guru on top of a mountain, answering their questions and offering business advice all night.  It was bliss.

     We made plans to meet for breakfast and bid our goodnights in the lobby.  Antonio asked to escort me to my room.  I was flattered but was quick to tell him I had a loving boyfriend at home who wouldn't appreciate his gesture.  He did it anyway. When we reached the door, he shook my hand, said goodnight and was off down the hall and out the door to his own room.

     That night as I tossed and turned in my creepy little room in the middle of Waco, Texas, I suddenly  felt something "different".  I felt protected.  Perhaps it was a premonition, perhaps it was the hand of an angel telling me to rest, for I had a big week ahead.  And so I did.

     The following day during break, Antonio opened his briefcase and said to me, "Here, I have something I want you to give to your daughter when you get back home."  He handed me a medal which hung from a pink ribbon.  "This is Our Lady of Fatima", he said.  He had no way of knowing of my devotion to Our Lady.  I gasped, thanked him and briefly told him I knew very well who this Lady was.

     That evening at the hotel, Antonio and I happened to run into one another at the vending machines.  He asked if I would like to stop and have a drink with him.  I accepted half out of boredom and half out of intrigue.   There was something about Antonio I couldn't quite grasp.  I wanted to know what it was.

     We sat by the indoor pool for an obscene amount of time, well into the wee hours of the morning.  It was as if God had sent him to tell me ALL the things I needed to remember.  Antonio was born in Africa and grew up in Portugal, hence his devotion to Our Lady of Fatima.  He was raised Catholic, attended Mass every Sunday (something I'd stopped doing but wanted to return to), and something else...he said the Rosary every night (something else I'd stopped doing but wanted to return to).  In fact, he invited me to say the Rosary with him.  I declined his offer but every night we met at the pool and stayed up all night long discussing God and the Blessed Mother and faith and spirituality and miracles and of course, the angels.  Every single night we sat there, Antonio playing the roll of teacher and I as his very very weepy student.  On our last night together, we prayed the Rosary.  I would say it in English and he followed in Portuguese.  It was the most beautiful Rosary I'd ever prayed.  I had indeed come to Waco for Part One of a training seminar, but it certainly wasn't the training I'd envisioned.  It was beyond better.

     How many times have you been on a business trip with the secret agenda of trying to regain your spirituality?   :-)  I doubt many.  This was the first time for me as well.  I hadn't announced this to anyone and had barely formulated the idea in my mind when my plane touched down in Waco.  I'd not spoken of my spiritual anguish to anyone, ever.  But I spilled my  heart to Antonio as if he were my confessor, my spiritual director, my guardian angel.  It was Antonio who reminded me that when it appears that God is not listening, God is in fact, the closest to you.

     Waco wasn't so bad after all.

     When I got home, I sent Antonio a new Rosary, Blessed with my love and gratitude for the hours upon hours he'd spent with me.  He had sent me home with a shirt of his, which to this day, hangs in my closet and gets worn on particularly hard days.  He still prays with the Rosary I sent him.

     He and I have kept in contact through all these years.  I have always thought of him as a sort of earth angel as he seems to sense when I need him unlike anyone else in my life.  In the midst of a torrential downpour of  tears, my phone will ring and it will be him.  He always says the same thing, "Whatcha thinkin'?" and when I ask him how he knew to call, he says, "I felt you.".  Then the tears come, we talk about it, he reminds me of God's love and protection and I hang up feeling better.  It's always the same.  Antonio's calls can come twice in one week or just twice in one year, it doesn't matter.  We are always the same.

      Last week for the very first time, I "felt" Antonio and I called him, which I almost never do.  He sounded as I've never heard him, so grateful to hear my voice.  He'd lost five friends in a week's time, had attended funerals for days, and really needed me.  He was genuinely relieved to hear my voice and when he said, "What took you so long?",  I didn't have an answer for him.  I suppose I'm a slow learner.

     It hadn't occurred to me that even the best earth angels need other earth angels at times.  It has taken me five years to learn this small lesson completely.  I hope it takes you less.  I bet you have someone just like Antonio in your life.  Next time you think of him, call him.  You may just find that your special earth angel is in need and your voice will do the trick.

     God Bless You and God Bless my friend Antonio.

                                                                          ~Alexis

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