AN ANGEL CALLED TOMAS
By Erwin Bourne
It remains unclear just how Tomas first appeared in
the early afternoon on July 20, 1992. Yet very vivid
are my memories of that experience in the
International Airport of Bogota, Colombia.
How had I gotten into one of the most distressing
experiences of a lifetime? I had an aching. Sick body
that desperately needed the most skilled attention of
a surgeon. And over the past twenty hours I had been
jolted and jarred aboard an over-packed bus getting
out of the southern river country of Colombia.
Now almost all businesses were closed for one of the
country’s famous fiestas. The portion of my airline
ticket between Bogota and Miami had quite mysteriously
disappeared. I was very nearly broke. And my
infected rib seemed about ready to explode with pain.
“And the peace of God, which passeth all
understanding, shall keep your hearts and mind through
Christ Jesus” (Philippians 4:7 KJV).
Avianca Airlines had sent a fax message to my travel
agency in Nebraska, but was receiving no response.
(How could I know that Kelly, my agent, was up in
Lincoln, Nebraska for the day?” The 11A.M. flight
left for the states, as did also, the I P.M.
flight—the only two for the day. And still there was
no response from my agent.
In South America, one does not leave his baggage
unattended for a moment; yet with my crippled leg and
tortured ribs, I could scarcely drag my suitcases
around with me. I bowed my head in prayer. “O God, I
have been on YOUR BUSINESS these past weeks. I’ve
given all my strength, time and funds for the
missionary work in Southern Huila and down on the
Putumayo and Caquetà Rivers. Now I need help! I’m
hurting so severely that I can hardly think any more.
And I’m needing to get home to family, friends and
medical help. Please God!”
“Por favor,” I asked a very enterprising businessman
dressed in a suit, seated with his wife next to my
luggage. “Could you keep your eye on my two suitcases
for a couple of minutes?” He politely assented, and I
quickly checked with the ticket agent again. Nothing!
I then exchanged my last U.S. twenty-dollar bill into
the Colombian currency and returned to my seat. The
woman was gone, but the gentleman still sat nearby.
He smiled and seemed to sense my dilemma. I then
explained to him that it would be necessary for me to
return to my hotel room in the capitol for the
night—but first, I hadn’t eaten and was feeling quite
weak. Together we went to the cafeteria for a
sandwich. Then I further implored his help to carry
my baggage to the far end of the airport to the
Telecom office where I could try to call my wife,
Jean, in the states.
Tears of joy and relief welled up in my eyes when Jean
answered and accepted the charges. (We had been out
of touch for over five weeks, I on the river system
dividing Colombia and Peru, and she in our Nebraska
home.) I could hardly swallow the lump in my throat
to answer before she might hang up. My Latin friend,
standing just outside the phone booth, raised his
eyebrows in pleasant surprise, realizing that I had
made the connection.
Ten together we walked out of the airport building
onto the crowded sidewalk and street. “You wait right
here,” the man called back, “while I go for a taxi.”
And he disappeared into the crowd carrying my two
pieces of luggage. By now, I had taken notice that
this man was not wearing a dark suit, and neither did
he appear to be traveling anywhere. He was a man of
average height, with the dark, curly hair of the
Latin. He had told me that his name was Tomàs, I
trusted him completely. Yet I was left rather
mystified seeing this stranger disappear with my only
belongings.
Then I spotted him again approaching me driving a
rather old taxi. He opened the cab door for me,
apologizing because his vehicle was old and had some
dents on the door. I assured him that that didn’t
matter. (Now I marvel at my failure to photograph
Tomàs and his taxi.) Very soon we were in front of
the hotel “Los Crystales” where I stayed for the
night. I arranged for him to pick me up at 7 A.M. He
told me that he would be there; and he was! At seven
o’clock sharp.
This would have to be my last night in Bogota, a
burgeoning city of ten to twelve million people. A
city with nightly power-outages and streets filled
with hunger and fear. Here I was spending my last
precious pesos for this room, a little food, and
enough left over to buy breakfast and to pay Tomàs to
take me back to the airport.
Just down the street from my $12.00 hotel room, I
shared my “pollo frito” (fried chicken) with a young
mother who carried home to her family what I gave her;
and a beggar entered just in time to gather up the
bones and scraps, with which he could boil some soup.
This I would certainly prefer instead of the huge,
dead rat another mother was carrying by the tail—once
again no photograph!
With the dawn of a new day, Tomàs and I sat in a small
restaurant eating “caldo” and drinking “tinto.” There
he told me, “I am a poor man and I have to work hard
to make a living for my family. But I realized that
you were needing help.” “Yes, indeed,” I told him.
“You are a God-send. I have desperately needed you
these past hours.”
“Are they (the angels) not all ministering spirits
sent forth to minister to them who shall be heirs of
salvation?” (Hebrews 1:14 KJV).
At the airport this poor man carried my luggage back
inside the terminal and placed them near where I had
sat down. Then he went immediately to the Avianca
ticket counter. Shortly he returned telling me that
nothing had come through yet from Miami. “You wait
right here till 10 A.M. Your ticket will arrive in
time for the 11 A.M. flight. Don’t worry. Everything
will be all right! Now I must be going about my
business. Goodbye!”
And with that, Tomàs walked out of my life. By 10
A.M. the agent was processing my ticket. By 10:45 I
had shipped my luggage, paid the departure tax, and
had boarded the plane for Miami.
Now, I ask, “Who is Tomàs?” Did you say, “A taxi
driver in the city of Bogota?” However, a peculiar
warmth had enveloped my person as he shook my hand for the last time, and I watched him disappear into the
crowd. These words of Saint Peter came with firm
conviction to my heart: “Now I know of a surety, that
the Lord hath sent His angel…” (Acts 12:11 KJV).
This is one of a series of “Angel stories,”
Enjoy!
Erwin Bourne
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