If you lost a marble or book, you were
told to pray to St. Anthony. He would
help you find the precious item gone
wandering beyond your grasp.
My mother sometimes prayed to St. Jude.
Children didn’t know much about the saint
whose holy job depended on lost causes
and most desperate situations.
When we traveled, we learned about
saints who offered special protection.
Christopher rode on the dash of our car
though I hear he later lost that job.
Some cast their powers against bad
harvests, riots, strife and poverty.
There were those like Bridget who wrapped
their blessed cloaks around entire communities.
You were lucky if you worked as a bar keep,
broom maker or boat man. You had your own
saint to watch over you. Today Isidore
has gone digital to shield those surfing the net.
Last week I sent word to Anthony. I wondered
if a saint had been lost. Does no one
walk with the pilgrims navigating the foggy
lands between research and practice?
