Episode 3 — The Signs I Never Asked For

The numbers, fragrances, birds, rainbows, and quiet moments that taught me to pay attention

I never believed in angel numbers.

At least, I never believed that every time I looked at a clock and saw 11:11, it automatically meant an angel was trying to send me a message.

I still don't.

I don't want to spend my life staring at clocks, checking receipts, reading license plates, or trying to decode every number I see.

But over the years, something happened.

I started noticing things.

Numbers.

Fragrances.

Birds.

Rainbows.

And sometimes, a quiet knowing inside me.

I never asked for most of them.

They simply happened.

And eventually I began to wonder if some of these moments were God's way of reminding me:

You are not alone.

I Didn't Believe in Angel Numbers

The phrase “angel numbers” became something I heard more and more as the years went by.

People would talk about 111, 222, 333, 444, 777, 1111, and all kinds of repeating numbers.

Each one supposedly had a specific meaning.

Honestly, I never really believed in that system.

I didn't want to memorize a chart of numbers and decide that every time I saw one, heaven was sending me a coded message.

That didn't feel right to me.

My experiences were much more personal.

Sometimes I would see a repeated number at a very specific moment.

Sometimes I would smell flowers or incense when there seemed to be no source.

Sometimes birds would come and knock on my window.

Sometimes I would see a rainbow in a place or situation where I wasn't expecting one.

And sometimes there was no physical sign at all.

There was simply a quiet instruction inside me.

A knowing.

A thought that seemed to say:

Pay attention.

Why Seven Became Meaningful to Me

Seven became meaningful to me because of Scripture.

In Genesis, creation is described over six days, followed by the seventh day of rest.

Over time, I came to associate seven with completion, fullness, and perfection.

Not magic.

Not numerology.

Just something that became spiritually meaningful to me.

Then there was eleven.

For me, eleven became meaningful because when I looked at the two ones standing beside each other, I could imagine them forming the shape of a cross.

Again, I am not saying that the Bible teaches that 11 is secretly the number of the cross.

It doesn't.

That was simply a personal symbol that came into my understanding.

So when I would see things like:

11:11

7:11

7:7

11:7

or other repeated numbers, sometimes I would stop.

And there would be a quiet feeling inside me.

Not necessarily a voice.

Not something dramatic.

Just a silent knowing:

You are protected.

I Don't Ask for Signs

This is important.

I don't normally ask God:

“Show me 11:11.”

Or:

“Send me a bird.”

Or:

“Make me smell flowers.”

I don't want to force signs.

But sometimes, when something important was happening, I would speak to God very specifically.

It was almost like a private conversation.

I might say:

“Lord, if this is really from You, let his age be eleven.”

Then I would leave it there.

I wouldn't keep searching.

I wouldn't manipulate the situation.

I wouldn't try to make the answer happen.

Sometimes nothing happened.

And that was okay.

But there were moments when something happened that made me stop.

One of those moments happened in Manila.

The Boy Named Jerome

A young boy once approached me asking for help.

He told me that his mother was sick and that he needed money.

I didn't immediately know whether his story was true.

Manila has many people asking for money, and unfortunately, some people do pretend to have problems in order to get money from strangers.

So I was cautious.

I remember thinking:

Is this real?

Instead of immediately believing him or immediately rejecting him, I decided to ask his name.

But before I asked, I quietly spoke to God.

I said something like:

“Lord, if this is from You, let his name be biblical.”

Then I asked him:

“What is your name?”

He said:

“Jerome.”

Jerome.

My mind immediately went to Saint Jerome.

And I stopped.

I don't know whether that proves anything.

I don't know whether the boy's entire story was true.

I don't know what happened to him afterward.

But I remember the feeling I had when he said his name.

It was that same quiet feeling.

That moment when something ordinary suddenly seemed meaningful.

I didn't think:

“I have discovered a secret code from heaven.”

I simply thought:

Maybe I was supposed to pay attention.

Then There Were the Birds

The birds were different.

Sometimes, in the morning, birds would come to my window.

And they would knock.

I noticed because it happened more than once.

I didn't immediately decide they were angels.

They were birds.

I watched them.

I noticed them.

I remembered them.

Then, on one occasion, something happened afterward that made me think about those mornings again.

I received a good-paying work-from-home opportunity.

It was a blessing to me.

And I remembered the birds.

The morning.

The window.

The knocking.

The timing.

Could the birds have predicted my job?

I don't know.

I wouldn't make that claim.

But the experience became meaningful to me.

Whenever I think about it, I remember that feeling of something good arriving after a period of waiting.

And Then There Were the Fragrances

This is another part of my story that I find difficult to explain.

Sometimes around our house, there would suddenly be a beautiful smell.

Sometimes it was like flowers.

Sometimes it smelled like incense.

Sometimes it was something I couldn't identify at all.

There would be no obvious reason for it.

No flowers nearby.

No incense burning.

Nothing I could immediately point to and say:

“That's where the smell is coming from.”

It would simply be there.

And sometimes these fragrances seemed to appear before something meaningful or blessed happened.

I began noticing the pattern.

Not every time.

Not perfectly.

But enough that I started paying attention.

I would smell the fragrance and think:

Something is coming.

Sometimes it was an opportunity.

Sometimes something I had been praying about.

Sometimes simply a period of peace.

And sometimes nothing obvious happened.

So again, I learned not to force an interpretation.

I Never Called Every Smell Heavenly

I want to be honest about that.

There are ordinary explanations for many unexplained smells.

A scent can travel.

Flowers can be somewhere nearby.

Our senses can sometimes interpret things in ways we don't immediately understand.

So I don't tell people:

“If you smell flowers, that means an angel is near.”

I can't honestly say that.

What I can say is that I experienced these fragrances, and over time they became meaningful to me.

Sometimes they reminded me of peace.

Sometimes they reminded me of blessing.

Sometimes they simply made me stop and pray.

Then There Were the Rainbows

But there is one sign that is different for me.

The rainbow.

I have seen rainbows around our house that I could not easily explain.

There were moments when I saw what looked like a rainbow even though I could not see the usual combination I would expect—no obvious rain, no obvious strong sunlight, no obvious source of light creating it.

And sometimes it would appear around the Mother Mary grotto near our house.

That place became important to me.

I began noticing the rainbows there.

And what made it even more interesting was that I wasn't always the only one seeing them.

There were times when our househelps would also notice them, especially when we had started praying the Rosary together.

That made me pause.

Because now it wasn't only something I had privately experienced.

Other people were seeing it too.

I still don't claim that every rainbow I saw was a supernatural event.

I can't prove that.

But I know what those rainbows came to mean to me.

Hope.

Reassurance.

Love.

Protection.

A gentle reminder that our prayers are heard.

Why the Rainbow Means So Much to Me

The rainbow already has a profound place in Christian Scripture.

After the flood, God establishes His covenant with Noah and places the bow in the clouds as a sign of that covenant.

So when I see a rainbow, I don't have to invent a meaning for it.

The image already carries something deeply Christian for me.

A promise.

A covenant.

Hope after the storm.

And when I see one near the grotto of Mother Mary, especially around times when we have been praying the Rosary, it feels deeply personal.

I begin thinking about Mary as a mother who brings us toward Jesus.

About mercy.

About protection.

About hope.

And about the prayers we had just prayed.

The Church's own Marian prayers call Mary Mother of Mercy, Mother of Divine Grace, Mother of Hope, Comforter of the Afflicted, Help of Christians, and Queen of the Holy Rosary.

Those words resonate with how I experience those moments.

The Rosary and the Rainbow

There is something else I believe.

I believe the Rosary carries enormous spiritual grace.

Not because the beads themselves are magical.

Not because Mary replaces God.

But because the Rosary is prayer—prayer that leads us into the mysteries of Christ with Mary.

The Church's official Rosary prayers ultimately ask that, through meditating on those mysteries, we may receive what Christ promises.

And Catholic teaching has long described the Rosary as a powerful prayer through which believers seek God's help and Mary's intercession.

So when I think about the rainbows appearing around our grotto while we were praying together, I don't think of them as magic.

I think of them as a ray of hope.

In my own spiritual imagination, I sometimes think of it almost poetically:

the Divine Mercy, Mama Mary's sunlight, and her mantle of protection forming a ray of hope over us.

I cannot prove that is what was physically happening.

But that is what the rainbow came to mean in my heart.

And Then I Realized Something

For a long time, I thought signs were something given to people like me.

People who are spiritually sensitive.

People who pray a lot.

People who are religious.

But eventually, I began thinking differently.

I believe God can give reminders to all of us.

Not only to perfect people.

Not only to priests.

Not only to saints.

Not only to people who have never sinned.

And certainly not only to people who consider themselves religious.

Sometimes I believe signs are given to the lost.

Perhaps especially to the lost.

The person who is confused.

The person who has stopped praying.

The person who is angry with God.

The person who feels abandoned.

The person who doesn't even know what to believe anymore.

Maybe the little reminder comes precisely because that person needs hope.

You don't have to be perfect.

You don't have to be “good enough.”

You don't have to know every prayer.

You don't have to understand theology.

Sometimes you simply need a reason to look up again.

Maybe That's What the Signs Are For

Maybe a sign isn't given because someone is spiritually advanced.

Maybe it is given because someone is struggling.

Maybe someone is crying.

Maybe someone is asking:

“God, are You still there?”

And then something happens.

A rainbow.

A fragrance.

A bird.

A number.

A person saying exactly what they needed to hear.

A sudden peace.

A door opening.

A prayer being answered in an unexpected way.

I'm not saying that every one of these things is necessarily supernatural.

I'm saying that sometimes, in the middle of our lives, something happens that makes us pause.

And that pause can become an opening for hope.

The Sign Was Never the Point

The more I think about all these experiences, the more I realize something.

Maybe the number wasn't the important part.

Maybe the bird wasn't the important part.

Maybe the fragrance wasn't the important part.

Maybe even the rainbow wasn't the important part.

Maybe the purpose was simply to make me stop.

To pause.

To pray.

To remember.

Life gets noisy.

We get busy.

We become distracted.

Sometimes we forget to look up.

Then something small catches our attention.

A number.

A bird.

A fragrance.

A rainbow.

A thought.

And suddenly, we stop.

That pause became important to me.

I Don't Worship the Signs

This is something I want to make very clear.

I don't worship numbers.

I don't worship angels.

I don't worship birds.

I don't worship rainbows.

I don't worship signs.

I worship God.

If something truly comes from God, I believe it should ultimately bring me closer to Him—not make me obsessed with finding the next sign.

I don't want to wake up thinking:

“If I don't see 11:11 today, God isn't with me.”

No.

God is still there.

Whether the clock says 11:11 or 10:46.

Whether a bird comes to my window or doesn't.

Whether I smell flowers or smell nothing.

Whether I see a rainbow or see only clouds.

My faith cannot depend on that.

Sometimes There Is No Sign

I've also learned to accept silence.

Sometimes I see a number and nothing happens.

Sometimes a bird knocks at the window and life continues normally.

Sometimes I smell something beautiful and there is no obvious blessing afterward.

Sometimes I pray the Rosary and I don't see a rainbow.

And that's okay.

God does not owe me a sign.

Prayer isn't a transaction.

Faith isn't:

“I prayed, so now show me something.”

Sometimes the answer is simply to keep praying.

Sometimes the blessing is invisible.

Sometimes the reassurance comes much later.

The Signs I Never Asked For

When I look back at my life, I realize how strange the pattern is.

I never asked for the invisible hands I experienced as a child.

I never asked for the fragrances.

I never asked for birds to knock at my window.

I never asked to notice repeated numbers.

I never asked for rainbows around the grotto.

And I never asked for those sudden moments of knowing.

They simply became part of my life.

And perhaps that's why I don't feel the need to chase them.

I don't need to find a sign every day.

I simply pay attention when something catches my attention.

And Then I Started Writing This Episode

There is something I almost didn't include.

But I think I should.

Because it happened while I was writing this very episode.

I started writing at 4:44 in the morning.

I didn't choose that time.

I wasn't waiting for 4:44.

I wasn't looking at the clock thinking:

“This would be the perfect time to start writing about signs.”

It simply happened.

I looked at the time.

4:44 AM.

And I smiled.

Here I was, writing about repeated numbers, signs I never asked for, and the strange moments I have learned to notice.

And there I was.

Writing it at 4:44.

Was that a sign?

I honestly don't know.

Maybe it was simply the time I happened to start writing.

Maybe it was coincidence.

I don't want to force a meaning onto it.

But I couldn't ignore how perfectly it fit the subject of this episode.

So I paused.

I smiled.

And quietly, I said:

“Okay, Lord. I see it.”

Then I kept writing.

Maybe that is how I have learned to deal with these things.

Not with obsession.

Not with fear.

Not by forcing an explanation.

Just by noticing.

And praying.

Maybe You Have Experienced Something Similar

Maybe you keep seeing 11:11.

Maybe you keep seeing the same number.

Maybe you've smelled flowers when there were no flowers around.

Maybe you've smelled incense unexpectedly.

Maybe birds keep appearing at your window.

Maybe you've seen a rainbow at an unusual moment.

Maybe you've experienced a strange inner knowing.

Maybe something happened in your life that you still can't explain.

And you're wondering:

“Was that God?”

I don't think you have to immediately decide.

Pause.

Pray.

Discern.

Don't chase signs.

But don't be afraid to pay attention either.

Sometimes the answer may be completely ordinary.

Sometimes it may simply be coincidence.

And sometimes, perhaps, something happens that quietly reminds you:

God is here.

What I Believe Now

After all these years, I don't think my lesson was to become an expert in angel numbers.

It wasn't.

I don't know what every number means.

I don't know what every fragrance means.

I don't know why certain birds come to my window.

I don't know why some rainbows have appeared when I least expected them.

And I don't claim to understand every spiritual experience I've had.

What I have learned is something simpler:

Pay attention.

Pray.

Discern.

Don't obsess.

Don't force.

And don't forget God while searching for signs from God.

Because the sign itself isn't the destination.

God is.

The Rainbow I Keep Coming Back To

When I put all these memories together, I see something.

The empty jar.

The invisible hand.

The fragrances.

The numbers.

The birds.

The rainbow.

The quiet instructions.

They are all different experiences.

But somehow, they keep reminding me of the same thing:

I am not alone.

And perhaps the rainbow is the most beautiful reminder of all.

Because I don't see it as a prediction.

I see it as hope.

I see it as reassurance.

I see it as love.

I see it as protection.

And when I see one around the grotto of Mother Mary, especially after praying the Rosary together, I sometimes feel something deep inside me:

Our prayers have been heard.

Not necessarily answered in the exact way we wanted.

But heard.

There is a difference.

I Believe Signs Are For Everyone

Today, I don't believe signs are reserved for perfect people.

I don't believe you need to be exceptionally religious to receive a reminder from God.

You don't have to have everything together.

You can be lost.

You can be confused.

You can have made terrible mistakes.

You can be angry.

You can be questioning.

You can barely know how to pray.

You can simply be someone who whispers:

“God, if You're still there, please give me some hope.”

And maybe, sometimes, the answer comes quietly.

A rainbow.

A fragrance.

A bird.

A number.

A person.

A moment of peace.

I don't know why God chooses certain moments.

I only know that my own life has taught me to pay attention.

I Never Asked for the Signs

I never asked for the numbers.

I never asked for the fragrances.

I never asked for the birds.

I never asked for the rainbows.

I never asked for the strange moments of knowing.

But they became part of my story.

And I've learned not to chase them.

If something comes, I notice it.

If nothing comes, I keep praying.

If I don't understand something, I don't pretend that I do.

And if something happens that feels meaningful, I bring it back to God.

Because perhaps the greatest sign isn't 11:11.

Maybe it isn't a fragrance.

Maybe it isn't a bird.

Maybe it isn't even a rainbow.

Maybe the greatest sign is simply the peace that comes when you realize:

You were never walking alone.

A Prayer for Discernment and Hope

Lord,

Teach me to recognize Your presence without becoming obsessed with signs.

Give me wisdom when something unusual happens.

Help me distinguish faith from fear, discernment from imagination, and Your guidance from my own desires.

If You choose to remind me that I am protected, help me receive it with humility.

When I am lost, give me hope.

When I am afraid, give me peace.

When I am waiting for an answer, teach me patience.

And when I see a rainbow after a storm, help me remember Your promises.

Thank You for the gift of prayer.

Thank You for Mama Mary, whose example continually brings us toward Jesus.

Thank You for every grace we receive, seen and unseen.

And if You send me a reminder, help me recognize it without ever forgetting that You are the One behind every grace.

Amen.

This is my story.

I still don't know what every number means.

I don't know what every fragrance means.

I don't know why birds sometimes knock on my window.

And I don't know whether that rainbow near our grotto was simply a natural phenomenon or something more.

I don't know whether the 4:44 AM moment while writing this episode was coincidence.

Maybe it was.

Maybe it wasn't.

But I noticed.

And I smiled.

Because after everything I have experienced, I've learned something:

I don't need to chase signs.

I only need to remain attentive.

Sometimes the sign comes.

Sometimes it doesn't.

But God is still there.

And sometimes, that's all the reassurance I need.

Names and identifying details have been changed to protect the privacy of our readers.