noreply@blogger.com (heart0107) — Tue, 13 Jan 2009 09:01:00 +0000

That Saturday was no ordinary day for me. Coming from a deeply religious family, I grew up involved in church activities in our local parish and one tradition which I never failed to miss was the annual "pagayak" wherein local residents took turns preparing and decorating the church for the celebrated mass every first Saturday in honor of the Virgin Mary. And that Saturday, I was tasked to take on the tradition.

I woke up early and hastily headed straight to the church, hoping to be joined by friends later on. Since it was still many hours away from the mass, all massive doors of the church were closed so I went back home and waited till 1pm. I first went to the Parish Office to check if one of my friends were already in church. The Parish Secretary advised me that no one has arrived yet so I asked for the keys so I could help myself to start cleaning.

As I climbed the steps leading to the facade of the church, I marveled on how much the structure had become the cornerstone not only of our townspeople's faith but also of our town's history. The church dated back to 1571 and was built by the Spaniards. Its walls were witnesses to our people's struggle from foreign conquerors and served as shelter to hundreds of brave souls. It possessed a beaten, weathered look but every moss-covered brick emanated its magnificence inherent of old, historical churches in the Philippines. I realised that the keys handed to me was for the side entrance so I went back to the parish office and lead my way to the corridor to the side entrance door.
As I opened the door and turned my eyes to the altar, there I saw three men coming my way. Each was of average height and build and dressed in a colorful polo. I stood aside to make way and as they passed, they nodded and greeted me with a smile. I smiled back and noticed how unusually pleasant they looked. I watched the men leave but at the same time my head was racing. Where did these men come from? I did not recognize any of them? Were they tourists?

I hurried to check all side doors thinking that one must had been left open but all locks were intact. Still confused, I rushed to the Parish Office located at the side of the church and there I found Wena, the Parish Secretary. I recounted what I saw and asked her if she knew of anyone who must have let the strangers in. She said she had not seen any men in the premises and that no one other than me and the Parish Priest had access to the Church. Still not satisfied, I asked her to come back with me to the Church and see if anything was missing. She hesitantly agreed. We found each of the valuables intact which somehow I realized I expected. With no satisfactory explanation in mind, I tried to dismiss the incident and got on with my task.

Years after, story of that strange Saturday afternoon somehow circulated its way among the “manangs” and residents. Surprisingly, they believed that I did see three men coming out of the church. One resident, who we fondly call as Nanay Citang, even concluded that the three men were the Lord's three archangels – Michael, Gabriel, and Raphael. If indeed she was right, then that would be the most blessed Saturday of my life.

My Piece of Mind