I lost my keys this afternoon. These are the keys to every place I work, my house, my parents' house. I have been tearing out what little hair I have left looking for these keys. I've turned my house upside down. I've torn through both of our cars. I've rewalked the route I walked this morning with my family. I called the hotel where we went swimming this afternoon. It has been three or four hours from hell.
I have gotten down on my knees and prayed several times. If you know me, you know that I am going to drive myself insane until those keys surface. I can't think of anything else. Now, if I were a true and trusting Christian, I'd sit back, relax, and tell myself that God will help take care of things. I haven't quite reached that point yet.
I have prayed to Saint Anthony, the patron saint of lost things. Saint Anthony has never let me down. I mean never. I pray, and Saint Anthony delivers.
Saint Marty needs help tonight. A lot of help.
|C'mon, Saint Anthony. I need some help tonight.|