"Tony, Tony look around..." Actually, stop right there. Ellyn von Huben tells us about her personal and repeated invocation of St. Anthony, the patron saint of (among other things) lost items, but more importantly, how she finds something that will help us much more than those long-gone keys will.
I hadn’t been a Catholic too long when I had my first opportunity to implore the intercession of St. Anthony for help in finding something lost. Not that I was totally sold on the idea that I could I ask a saint to help me find a missing item. There was enough Wisconsin Lutheran practicality in me to keep a constant internal voice repeating, “Find your own keys, idiot.” But they weren’t my keys. What I had lost were the keys to a church in which my La Leche League group met. The shame of admitting that I had lost keys to someone else’s church (a Lutheran church) — which had been kind enough to give us space to meet — was too much to bear.
Now that I have worked in my parish for over 10 years, I know how unhappy the powers-that-be would be to hear that someone lost a set of keys to the whole church. We have strict controls on who signs out which keys and for how long. And when quibbles arise, I have no problem at all defending the parish rules. Keys can go astray. Keys get lost. I know whereof I speak.
I prayed fervently to St. Anthony to help me. If not for my sake, for the sake of my group. For the sake of the church that gave them to me. St. Anthony, among his many attributes, is also known as the “Hammer of Heretics,” but I can now attest that hiding keys to a Lutheran church are not part of his plan. There are novenas to St. Anthony for the finding of lost objects, but I didn’t need a novena. The same day I prayed, I found the keys. I will spare you the details that assured me that there was divine intervention. Let me just say that I found them in a place they should not have been and in a place I wouldn’t have thought of looking. But that day, going about my usual mom stuff, I came across my keys. One thing led to another, like "Tinker to Evers to Chance,” and there they were. This is the small, derriere-saving kind of miracle that showed me that St. Anthony could indeed be a holy helper for anyone who begged his intercession...
On the Feast Day of St. Anthony of Padua, patron saint of lost items, Kerry Trotter reflects on the increased frequency with which she could his help.
Mondays aren’t normally my sharpest days.
But this one hit an all-time dull.
I had just hoisted my daughter from her booster seat, fresh off a mac-and-cheese lunch, and was gearing up for that delightfully contented hour of play before naptime. She was happy, I was happy, and we were simply reveling in our togetherness when the serpentine unease of a forgotten thought slithered into my head.
You know, the thought that should have slithered in hours earlier but was suspended in the muck of my brain matter, clogged with so many work deadlines and Elmo songs.
I was supposed to have lunch with a friend today. In fact, an hour before.
I had completely—I mean, completely—forgotten about it.
Panicked, I leaped to my feet and ran to the computer. An email waited...