By
Juan Rodriguez

Tuesday was my vacation day, and I had a
perfect plan to take my daughter, Liliana, to the Museum of Natural History in
Manhattan. Liliana was excited. We walked to the 46th Street – Bliss
Street Station on Queen s Blvd, to catch the 7 Train. At our arrival, the signs
directed us to take the 7 Train Northeast to 61st Street for a
transfer to the 7 Train going into Manhattan. We boarded the 7 Train, and
Liliana walked up to the window facing the North, she wanted to see her school,
as the train was passin
g it. She turned to me with excitement saying, “Look Daddy, St Sebastian School, I can see my school.” She was so happy to see her school.
g it. She turned to me with excitement saying, “Look Daddy, St Sebastian School, I can see my school.” She was so happy to see her school.
We arrived at the 61st Street
Station. We can see the Manhattan bound 7 Train, slowly coming into the station
on the opposite side of the platform. The car was crowded, but since it was
going express to Manhattan, I decided to take it. I told Liliana stand up
against the wall, closest to the Train Conductor Booth door. Liliana was safe.
Doors closed and the train was on the move to
Manhattan. Thinking that we would make it to the Museum quickly on the express,
the train had to go slow on the express line due to MTA Personal working on the
tracks. I remembered holding the pole and watching Liliana as she was smiling
towards me. She was using my old “IRiver” device, listening to music. I asked,
“Are you ok.” She said with a smile, “I’m fine Daddy.”
Suddenly, a lady asked out loud, “Does
this suitcase belong to anyone?” I turned to see the woman. She was looking
around and continued to repeat, “Does this suitcase belong to anyone?” Looking
down, sitting up against the pole, I didn’t notice there was blue suitcase was
right in front of me.
That moment, turned from a time of joy, to
an unexplainable nightmare. No one responded. We are on a 7 Train, bound for
Manhattan, going at 5 miles an hour on an express line, and I cannot do
anything. Liliana heard the woman, and knew something was wrong. The Lady could
not contain her emotions. Her son said to her, “Mom, relax. It’s ok.” The woman
responded to her son in an excited whisper, “Esto puede ser una bomba.”
Liliana, and I picked the Spanish up quickly, “This could be a bomb.”
She reached for the handle, and tried
shaking the bag. It appeared to be heavy. Her son tried to open the bag. I had
to stop him. With a stern voice I told him, “Don’t be a Champ, leave the bag
alone.” I looked him in the eyes, I had no time for him to check something that
could be a potential danger. Still, the unexplainable feeling of not escaping,
of not protecting my daughter, just haunted me. I felt like the villain in the
Twilight Zone episode, “The Obsolete Man”, who could not escape a bomb in a
room. Time became his terror. Time became mine! The train continued to its
destination, moving at a “snails” pace, and my daughter and I are in front of
the suitcase.
I turned to the door, where the MTA Train
Conductor was stationed – I knocked on the door and spoke to him calmly of the
situation. His face turned pale. He acted fast and called the authorities to be
ready at the Queenboro Plaza Station. That was our final stop. I thought to
myself, “Could that be Liliana’s final Birthday?”
All I could do is pray. I said, “God, I am
not ready to die. I’m not finished with Your work, and I want to see Liliana
grow.” I looked to her and to the people – all I can say is, “Father, protect
my daughter, these people, the people at the station, the law enforcement who
will be courageous enough to check this suitcase.”
I looked to the other side of the car, to
see if I can get past the people, but I felt in me a strong hold – not to move
since it would cause panic to the people, and most of all to my daughter. In my
mind, all I could say, “WHAT ARE YOU DOING!? LEAVE!” I couldn’t. Something held
me there. I could move, but I had no will power to even leave that spot. My
eyes fell on the woman who called attention to the suitcase; she was about to
burst. I had to be there only to defuse her from going off, while at the same
time bearing the unpredictable death that could await my daughter at Queensboro
Plaza. There was truly no escape.

According to the Catechism, “Abraham is
the model of such obedience offered us by Sacred Scripture.” (CCC 144) He heard
the voice of God and obeyed. I did not hear His voice, but felt a Will far
greater than mine, which held me in the same position. I felt like a fool. In
my mind I was yelling, “THIS IS MY CHILD!!!! GET OUT!” But I could not move,
only listen from within, with no voice to assure me I was doing the right
thing.
The Catechism teaches us that “Abraham
thus fulfills the definition of faith…” (CCC 146) In those moments, I looked to
Liliana, and thought with all the terror in my mind and heart – I had to be at that
moment the only “definition of faith” for her . I
had to trust.

Was this a set up to test my faith? Was the anxious lady, the polite Spanish woman, and the Train Conductor all part of God’s plan? An inescapable Trinitarian Plan? God, only you know – Thank you for blessing me with that test!


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