When Angels Talk
- Isabel Boeira
- 1 day ago
- 4 min read
I was only 9 years old when an incident took me out of my childhood routine, between toys and games, and changed my perception of the supernatural events that surround us.
My father had passed away two years prior. The emotional and financial weight of raising three children alone led my mother to remarry. My stepfather, much older than her, became a pillar of stability during that season.
After their marriage, my mother opened a clothing store and began traveling regularly to Argentina and Paraguay to purchase merchandise for resale in her shop in Porto Alegre, in southern Brazil.
The Morning the Bus Never Came
One of the trips, however, was marked by an unusual event. After spending two days in Argentina, Mom took the tour bus back home. Her return was scheduled for 5:00 a.m. Around that time, my siblings, my stepfather, and I went to the city's main avenue, to the station where Mom would get off. The bus, however, did not appear.
After a long wait, my stepfather decided to return home. Something must have happened for my mother to be so late. On the way back, we heard on the car radio about an accident in Argentina related to a bus from Porto Alegre. The radio announcer reported the deaths of many passengers and several injuries. My heart stopped. Even without more details, I knew that Mom was involved in the tragedy and that I, more than ever, needed to act, to connect, in thoughts and prayer, with the only one who could change that situation.
A Child’s Prayer in the Middle of Chaos
When we arrived at our residence, my stepfather called the transportation company. While he waited on the phone for news about Mom, I could hear my brother's copious crying and my sister's desperate screams. I, however, remained silent.
Minutes earlier, I had gone to my room and said the most sincere prayer of my life. I had spoken to God with the intimacy of someone speaking to their closest friend, I had laid out the facts with the imperious certainty of someone who knows they are being heard, and I had told Him that, in the face of what seemed to be a disaster, I had decided to believe.
I waited for my stepfather to hang up the phone. The fear of hearing the news that Mom was among the fatal victims of the accident was visible on my siblings' faces, but in that moment of tension, I was overcome by an inexplicable peace, a resigned certainty that, regardless of the situation, my prayer had been answered. An immaculate, pure, and powerful faith—typical of children—dominated my mind. I was unshakable in the face of chaos.
“Your mother’s name isn’t on the list of the dead,” my stepfather finally revealed. The emotional phrase echoed through the house and consumed me like a flame, a burning fire that ignites the hearts of the victorious. That’s how I felt that day: a winner. I had defeated fear, defied death with faith, and broken through the limits of disbelief. At that moment, I knew I was being watched over by a God of unfathomable power.
Only later, however, did I become aware of the magnitude of the facts and details surrounding the event that gave it the contours of a miracle.
The Missed Bus That Became a Miracle
My mother, upon returning home the next day, told us how she had escaped the accident that killed almost all the passengers. When the bus stopped for lunch, still in Argentina, Mom looked for a phone booth to try to contact us. There were several people in line. When her turn came, however, the call wouldn’t go through. She tried three times, without success. She dialed the numbers, but for some reason, the connection dropped.
Just as she was about to give up, a young man appeared beside her and asked, “Excuse me, where are you trying to call?” Mom replied, “Porto Alegre. I want to talk to my children before continuing my trip, but it’s not working.” The young man said, “I just got through to the same city. Try again!”
Mom knew that if she stayed there, insisting, she would miss the bus, but the unknown young man remained by her side and repeated, “Don’t give up, keep calling!”
She tried a few more times. About 10 minutes passed. Mom hung up the phone and said, “It’s no use, I haven’t had any luck…” Her sentence, however, hung in the air, because that strange man had disappeared. She looked everywhere, trying to locate him, but she didn’t see him anymore.
He vanished in the same way he had strangely appeared.
Realizing she had spent a considerable amount of time trying to contact her family, she rushed to where her bus was parked, but it had already left. Disappointed, she took another bus to reach her destination. Mom missed her ride, but gained a new chance at life.
On her way home, she saw many ambulances and police cars. The bridge over the Golden River was closed due to the bus crash, the same one she should have boarded.
When Faith Meets the Supernatural
Even today, almost 40 years later, my mother gets emotional when she tells this story and still tries to understand who that young man was, whose persistence saved her life. I, however, know that while I prayed, the supernatural, in the form of a man – or an angel – materialized before my mother. He interacted and talked with her, interfering and changing the course of events.
I learned that miracles are available to each of us. To access them, we must trust without limits, persist until achieved, and believe that we can see what is momentarily invisible to the natural eyes. Because miracles don't depend on any logic or reason, but on a faith so great that it can move intangible powers.
Isabel Boeira holds a degree in Languages from Unisinos, Brazil, and a master’s degree in Lusophone Studies from the University of Evora. She is a licensed teacher of Portuguese and English languages. Isabel is married, has a 12-year-old daughter, and lives in Ripley, New York.
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