Lost and Found

Was this going to be how our vacation in the sublime mountains would end?

Stopping to have lunch on the Green in Phoenicia, N.Y. on this day in June was perfect. The weather was mild, there was a breeze and the murmuring of the Stony Clove Creek nearby was delightful. After sitting in the shaded Gazebo, I noticed my husband looking through his wallet and with a shocked face he said: "I don't have my credit card." Now we had been floating up and down Route 28 trying to get cell service and his credit card had been on his lap. The windows were open, did the card fly out? No big deal to cancel you say but we were going to use that card to get home and the ability to call the card company was iffy at best.

Mu husband searched all around his seat in the SUV, I looked around mine and all over the back. He moved the vehicle, looked under, I searched the whole parking lot. Very discouraged, I crossed the road to look by the bushes that border the creek.Maybe it blew over there. Finally I said: "St Anthony, help us find the card." Cradle Catholic though I am, I have never sought his help. A saint set aside for such things was always a bridge too far for me. When I can't find something, I prefer ranting, raving and spewing frustration as I look for said missing item.

St. Anthony is said to have become the one who handles these requests because of an incident when a novice took the saint's psalter. After many, many prayers by Anthony, the novice saw him in an alarming apparition and returned the treasure. Nice story but really? So it was a miracle to begin with that I sought his help.

We sat down in the gazebo to eat lunch when this thought came into my mind with some urgency:" Look where John has already looked." I got up, crossed the road , opened the driver's door and there in the black plastic fitting that holds the seat was the dark grey Visa card. I held it up like it was a winning lottery ticket.Such joy for both of us.

We whisper to heaven and heaven whispers back. Thank you, dear saint.