Exacto Moments

This morning, I wrote a reflection titled “Two Angels, and Between Them the Lord.” It began with a prayer I have carried for years:

“Father God, let me see Your face. I long to see You face to face.”

As I wrote, I remembered a photograph taken on September 1, 2019. Two angels stood beside the tabernacle, with the crucified Christ above the altar. That day, their posture had stirred a simple thought in me: pray like those angels—with reverence, deeply from the heart.

On September 2, 2026, I read Ezekiel’s description of the sanctuary, its carved cherubim, and “the table which is before the Lord.” It brought that photograph back to mind. I remembered, too, the two cherubim above the Ark of the Covenant and the two angels Mary Magdalene saw where Jesus’ body had lain.

These images also brought me back to my pilgrimage to Jerusalem in 2017. On September 14, the Feast of the Exaltation of the Holy Cross, I spent the night inside the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. In one photograph, the altar cloth showed the risen Christ with an angel on either side. Beside Him were the words “Christos Anesti”—Christ is risen.

Looking back, what moved me was where the angels directed my attention. Jesus was always at the center.

Perhaps my prayer to see God’s face was also an invitation to recognize His presence with the eyes of faith—to become still before Him in the Eucharist.

After writing that reflection this morning, I had a dream.

I was distributing Holy Communion. A boy took hold of the Host rather than receiving it on his hand. Another lay minister was beside me but did not act. Suddenly, there was a brownout.

I saw the child chewing the Eucharist. A woman gathered some broken pieces of bread, and we placed them in what I remembered in the dream as a chalice. Nothing was left on the floor.

Then I heard the priest putting his vessel in the tabernacle. But I was still holding mine. I did not know what to do.

Then I woke up.

I did not understand the dream fully. It left me thinking about the Eucharist and the responsibility I feel when serving Holy Communion. My prayer became: “Lord, teach me to serve You with reverence and care. Guide me when I am unsure.”

That afternoon, we were driving and listening to Father Dave Concepcion from the Philippines. He spoke about the Gospel: “Many are called, but few are chosen.”

His words sounded like an invitation. Would we give the Lord some time? Would we say yes?

We said yes.

Our visit had not been planned, but we ended up at the Adoration Chapel at St. John the Baptist. There before me was the familiar sight: two angels beside the altar, with Jesus in the Eucharist at the center.

That morning, I had written about the altar and the angels. Afterward, I had dreamed about serving Holy Communion. Now, that afternoon, I was before the Lord in Adoration.

And I had brought someone with me.

That reminded me of my September 22 dream. People had gathered for prayer and singing, and everyone was being grouped two by two. I was paired with Sister Olga.

Last Tuesday, Olga brought a friend to our charismatic prayer meeting. Seeing her invite someone had brought that dream back to mind. Now, accompanying someone into the Adoration Chapel, I remembered it again.

There was something familiar in these small acts: one person invites, another accompanies, and together we make time for prayer.

I thought of Sister Frances and Sister Virgie, who invited me into the St. Vincent charismatic community in 2006. Their invitation became part of my journey. Years later, Olga was inviting her friend, and I was bringing someone to the chapel.

While we were there, I shared the story of a friend whose prayer had been answered. I had encouraged her to focus on Jesus and talk to Him. Her cry had become a cry of joy.

Father Dave’s words stayed with me:

“Kahit isa lang ang iyong madala kay Lord, it’s already a mission accomplished.”

Sometimes, the opportunity to serve begins with a simple invitation: “Come with me. Let us spend some time with Jesus.”

Only later did I realize that it was the feast of Nuestra Señora del Pilar, whom my father’s family has honored for generations. Remembering that devotion made the day even more personal.

I do not know the full meaning of my dreams. But as I looked back over the day, I could see why these moments touched me: the morning reflection, the Eucharist dream, the invitation on the road, and the time we shared before Jesus.

The angels reminded me where to turn my attention. The dream left me praying to serve with greater care. The afternoon gave me an opportunity to accompany someone into His presence.

For years, I had prayed, “Father God, let me see Your face.”

That afternoon, I stood before Jesus in the Eucharist, with someone beside me. I felt grateful that we had answered the invitation.

Two angels, and between them the Lord.

“Papa Jesus, continue to hold my hand. Guide me and strengthen me. Help me invite others to spend time with You.”

Another Exacto Moment.
Woven by God.