Let’s Support a Belief in Miracles

Do you believe in miracles? Growing up, I recall my mother praying to St. Anthony for help in finding lost items. On more than one occasion, he came through in nothing short of a miraculous intervention. One time, a small diamond fell out of my mother’s wedding ring. After a quick prayer, she looked down and saw it sparkling in some sand. Another time a friend of my sister’s had a contact lens pop out. Mom said a quick prayer and found it in the grass.

St. Anthony was born in Lisbon in 1195, and is traditionally known as the patron saint of lost items. It may have originated with him more importantly being the patron of lost souls – those who have fallen to serious sin or have abandoned the Church.

Friday morning my granddaughter, Ava, realized one of her little fox earrings was missing. She was staying with us while her mom was out of town. She slept while wearing the earrings, and even showered and washed her hair before she realized one was missing, and she couldn’t pinpoint exactly when it fell off. It could have fallen off in her bed, during her shower, she had no idea. It could be anywhere. They were a souvenir of an Alaskan cruise, and she was upset that one of her favorite earrings was lost. Denny and I did our best to look for it, but had no luck.

Later that day, my granddaughter and I drove to have lunch with my mother. On the way I told her about St. Anthony, and explained a little about how a saint has to have documented miracles credited to them before they are considered a saint. I told her St. Anthony is her Auntie Bee’s favorite saint because he’s helped her many times, and how it’s tradition to ask St. Anthony for help finding something missing. I suggested we each quietly say a little prayer in our head.

After having lunch with my mother, we returned home so Ava could pack up and get ready to go to a sleep over. Shortly before it was time to leave, Ava spotted her earring, in the middle of the kitchen floor in front of the stove. It seemed impossible the earring could have been there the entire time. Someone would have stepped on it. The dog could have gotten it. I said, “Wow, Ava, did you say a prayer to St. Anthony, because I sure did.” She admitted she hadn’t. My husband was there, and he said he had prayed for help from St. Anthony.

Could it have been stuck to her clothes, and fallen there right before she saw it? Perhaps, but shouldn’t it have made a sound? I choose to believe it was just another of life’s little miracles, and I pray my granddaughter will always believe in miracles.

“St. Anthony, please look around; something is lost and must be found.”