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In 2016, I was a student in a rigorous graduate school program and early-morning running was my main form of stress relief. I always took general precautions—like wearing bright colors and not running too far from my apartment. I’ll admit, running made me feel invincible—before the morning of October 2.

That brisk Sunday, I put my headphones in, turned on a lecture that I felt I needed to review, and stepped outside at 6:30 AM. As my watch beeped to notify me I completed my first mile at the end of a normally busy road, I turned around and was startled to find myself face-to-face with a man who had apparently been running close behind me. In my state of endorphin-filled bliss, I simply registered him as another runner, smiled, and continued on my way. Less than 30 seconds later, I felt the same man grab onto my waist from behind and tackle me to the ground. He hissed at me to stop fighting, and I was startled to silence as he told me what he was going to do to me. I remember quickly realizing that if I didn’t find my voice, I was about to become the victim of a violent sexual assault.

A Light in the Darkness

I screamed and pleaded with my assailant to stop. I kicked, swung, and did everything I could to free myself from his hold. I even made up a lie that I had a disease that would be transmitted to him—Nothing stopped him. During this struggle that seemed to last an eternity, on a street between a church and an apartment complex, not one person appeared. I remember the strange sensation of never feeling more alone while simultaneously knowing that God had not abandoned me.

I continued to scream and fight for my life when all of a sudden, I heard a voice from above. “Leave her alone! Stop! Leave her alone.” I looked up to see where the voice was coming from, but could only see the rising sun shining down on me—a beacon of light in the darkest moment of my life.

My attacker immediately released me and ran off. I crawled with the little strength I had left toward that far-off voice. As I reached the window of the apartment, I saw a man peering down. I sobbed and begged him to come downstairs, fearing that my attacker would return. The man told me he was calling the police, but that he could not come down because he was blind and without a caregiver to help him navigate the stairs. He stayed with me from the window while we waited for the police. To this day, I continue to be amazed that God used a blind witness to come to my aid.

A Guiding Force

The next year was filled with graduate school tasks and collaboration with law enforcement in a desperate attempt to identify my attacker. We were never able to do so.

I began to see a therapist to help in the aftermath and trauma. I knew God was calling me to forgive, but I was angry—angry at myself for wearing headphones that day, at my brain for not recalling important details, and at my attacker for stealing my peace during morning runs. But while I was angry in a lot of ways, I was never angry at God.

Instead, I found great comfort in discovering the ways He showed me His goodness. Through prayer and His grace, I realized I was never alone. God never causes bad experiences, but sometimes He permits them to allow us to grow closer to Him.

On the one-year anniversary of the attack, I experienced God’s goodness yet again. Anticipating an emotion-filled day, I attended daily Mass and was surprised to learn that October 2 is the Memorial of the Holy Guardian Angels. I found great comfort in realizing the angel assigned to guide and protect me was hard at work during my attack, on the very day we celebrate Guardian Angels in the Church.

In reflecting back on the morning of the attack, I realized that it was my guardian angel who was near as I peered up into the sun and felt the sensation of being accompanied that day. I believe God revealed this to me a year later to assure me that He was still with me through my long-term struggle of recovering from the attack. I also believe my guardian angel was working after the attack to keep my soul pointed toward Christ. It would have been easy for me to become angry with God, but there was a tangible, mysterious pull toward the desire to stay rooted in Him as I started down my road to healing. I certainly cannot give that credit to myself.

Safe Beneath Their Wings

Psalm 91 says, “The Lord has put angels in charge of you, to guide you in all of your ways.”

When unwelcome memories from that day visit me, I imagine myself safe under the protective wings of my guardian angel. Pope Francis reminded us in 2014, “We all have angels with us who protect us and help us to understand things.” Our angels “always behold the face of the Father who is in heaven.”

I have come to believe that there is no better companion to have on this earthly journey than my guardian angel. My prayer is that one day my angel will ultimately lead me to rest in my Eternal home—the place where all of the heartbreak, trauma, and darkness of life turn to dust. A place where I will forever behold the face of my Father.

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About Annie:

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