GUARDIAN ANGELS

I had never thought of my guardian angel as a protector until one daylate in my senior year at Barnard College in 1970. I was part of a small group that met toghether to celebrate the Eucharist in people's homes and to plan activities, like working in the food bankor protesting injustice.

One day I walked up Broadway to 121st Street, where a good friend of mine lived. It was an ordinary day. I do't even remember what the weather was like.

I approached Victor's apartment building and set my right foot on the first step.

Suddenly, I felt a strong hand on my left shoulder that brought me to a dead stop. I whirled around, concerned that it was a mugger.

No one was there.

Surprised, I looked both ways. But the street was virtually empty. No one was near enough tohave touched me.

After a minute, I turned back to the apartment steps and again put my right foot on the first step.

This time the hand on my shoulder not only brought me to a full stop, but almost jerked me backward.

It was then that I heard my guardian angel's voice, as clear as a bell ringing on a cold, crisp night: "It would not be wise for you to go in there just now."

I looked at the building. It seemed so ordinary; yet my guardian angel had just told me not to go in. Or had he? His words were, It would not be wise..."

Should I or shouldn't I?

I had some time before our meeting. Just then church bells sounded and I went across the street into the sanctuary. I sat back in the pew and thought about what had just happened.

I was still trying to decide what to do when I heard sirens. I paid no attention. After all, this was New York City. But as they became louder, the noise was too great to ignore. In fact, they sounded as though they were right outside.

Curious, I opened the church door - and got a shock.

In front of Victor's building were four police and emergency vehicles. Officers, guns drawn, were running inside. I wa shaken all afternoonand called Victor later that night.

"A woman was murdered in the elevator - stabbed to death by a drug dealer," he told me. "It was awful."

He went on talking but I wasn't listening. My stomach thudded with a queer lurch and I sat down hard on the bed. My God! I thought. If my angel hadn't warned me, I might have been the one who was killed!

---Eileen Elias Freeman, Touched by Angel (Warner Books)

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