Riding shotgun with my Guardian Angel

Before I continue with the topic of my previous post, I feel the need to express into words the experience I had just an hour ago. My morning was dreadful and not for any particular reason. I woke up at 5am for no apparent reason only to find three gut wrenching text messages. With the immediate plunge into a changing reality, I left my friends from college and bought a train ticket to Mimet. The issue is not the train, it’s the connecting bus after the train that ultimately sets the stage for what I am going to say. From Marseille to Mimet by train and bus is roughly 17 kilometers. The train brought me to a town called Gardanne roughly 7 kilometers from my house in Mimet. Intending to take a bus, I wait a half hour for the bus to arrive and once it does, I board. The man driving the bus will not accept any form of payment, instead, he forcefully booted me off the bus and said that I must download the app and pay from there. Visibly frustrated with no time to explain that I have 2G service and at the moment had 17% on my phone, I considered my options. I could wait and pray that the app would download in the hour between bus rides, or I could walk to Mimet and arrive at just about the same approximated time of arrival. Being as stubborn as I am, I took to walking. I made it out of the city and into the mountains where I immediately started to grumble. I have developed a habit for moments such as these, inspired by my father. Whenever I catch myself wanting to complain, whether it be warranted or not (I could argue it’s never warranted), I immediately direct my thoughts and/or words to something productive, proactive, or burst into song. Majority of the time I do not contemplate productivity, I chant. In this moment, I repeated the words ‘ Christus Vincit, Christus Regnat, Christus Imperat’ until I could accept whatever pain, frustration, or disappointment and place it at the foot of the Cross with full sincerity in an attempt to offer Christ some slight consolation. It is a directed aim to benefit from suffering. In this moment, I believe I met my guardian Angel. With the sun blazing down ( comparatively, it is not Texas heat but still, hot) I ascended the barren mountain side without a spot of shade. As I rounded a corner, an elderly man stop his car next to me and asks if I’m going far. Before I had met this man, I was absolutely contemplating putting a thumb out and praying for the best. I decided not to because most importantly I’m not a yuppie, secondly, I wasn’t intending to have to kill someone today, and thirdly, I had just motivated myself to stay the course and hold the line. When I heard this man’s voice, I was not defensive, I was at ease. After we spoke for a few moments, he offered to give me a ride and I accepted. My French can only allow me to communicate to a certain degree, but I had no problem understanding what he had to say. We talked about my hometown and how I like the States. We talked for a few minutes before he let me out back on the side of the road at the top of the mountain to where the most difficult part was over. As I got out of his car and said thank you, I shook his hand as he said ‘ May God bless you. Christus Vincit.’ It was then that I realized that he could be none other than my guardian Angel. It is possible that such hospitality is unwelcome in the United States which means I am unaccustomed to it but I refuse to believe that. It was also possible he heard me chanting and felt compelled to help a fellow Catholic. I cannot rationalize any of these to dispute that I sat shotgun with my guardian Angel.