Happy Saints' Day

 A few stories about our children and saints.  First, Sunday our church had a Saints' Day Parade.  Let me be the first to state that I have no talent when it comes to making costumes and the prospect of figuring out costumes for my two sons filled me with a little anxiety.  Originally, I wanted to go with St. Dominic for Dom and St. Thomas More for Will (whose middle name is Thomas for Thomas More).  This lasted until Dom caught me doing some research on how to proceed to make these costumes.  We had a slight change of plans with Dom when he spotted St. Patrick.  But, after I explained to him that I had no talent with a sewing machine and we already had the costume for St. Dominic, he let his dream go of wearing a miter and embraced the black cape and facial hair.

 I elected to switch Will to St. Josemaria Escriva as soon as I saw the main prop for him would need to be glasses.  Will already wears glasses!!  It was a sign from God.  I simply bought him a black t-shirt and a hat from the Dollar Tree (I love that store!), and we were good to go.

I had him wear a name tag because not many people are aware of this saint. 

 Eric was a little disappointed that I didn't even attempt to let one of them be St. Anthony who happens to be our family's default patron saint (more on that in a minute).  But, we both agreed that the costumes turned out very well, they were the only St. Dominic and St. Josemaria,  and these were both created with very little effort or stress on my part.  Win/Win/Win.  I need to give a big shout out to both Nana and Grandma as Dom's costume consisted of a lab coat Nana gave him last Christmas as well as his new Rosary from Assisi and a black cape that Grandma gave him this past summer.  Thank you for your foresight!

And just a couple of anecdotes about my kids' (and our) appreciation for St. Anthony.  For my non-Catholic readers he helps us find lost things. 

First of all, Will for a couple of years now has relied on St. Anthony when he loses things.  And his first bit of advice when he hears you've lost something is:  "Well, ask St. Anthony".  Well, last Friday night, I sent the boys to locate their soccer gear for the early Saturday morning game.  I heard moans and groans as they inevitably had no clue where socks, shorts, or shirts were in the chaos that are their drawers.  As someone who can empathize with that sinking feeling of not knowing where a crucial item is, I went around the corner to help and saw Dom making the sign of the cross.  I know that he was asking his old buddy St. Anthony to intercede for him with our all-knowing God.  And I know some view this as a superstition, but shortly after that, I had a memory of putting Dom's soccer socks on the floor of our room earlier in the week and realized they were no longer there.  I then deduced that the one person who puts clothing away without being asked (Dad) would probably have mistaken them for his socks.  I proceeded to locate them in Eric's sock drawer.  Thank you St. Anthony!

The second story occurred the next day.  Many of you are aware that Molly has a little lamb blanket that she has had since birth and carries around with her everywhere.  Unless she sees something shiny, and the trusty lamb is discarded pretty quickly, hence the reason Agnes is often misplaced.  On Saturday, as we were attempting to get kids ready for bed, Molly indicated she could not locate her little lamb.  She indicates this by walking from room to room saying: "Agnes, where are you?".  It had been a long day and neither Eric nor I wanted to get up from our reclining positions to help, but Eric eventually gave in.  I figured it would just be a couple of minutes before the lost sheep was found.  However, this was not the case.  As I got up to help, I rolled my eyes with the exasperation I (and all moms who have come before me and who will come after me) often feel when it seems that I am the only person able to find lost items (St. Anthony, quite possibly feels the same).  Yet, after several minutes of searching in the usual places, it was nowhere to be found.  The thought came to me that losing my wallet had nothing on this.  Everything in the wallet was replaceable.  Losing Agnes could quite well mean years of therapy.  Naturally, I called on our old friend.  A few minutes later I had a memory of Molly sticking a puppet randomly in a box of things to donate.  I realized that Molly could have easily put Agnes down in a box we'd filled earlier in the day to store items, in a trash bag from the mass cleaning of the Florida Room, or the donate box.  We searched the donate box and storage box.  No Agnes.  Then Eric went to our dumpster outside.  A few minutes later he came in with an old shoebox that had sparkly wrapping paper on it.  I recognized it as Molly's 'bed' for Agnes.  And inside was Agnes, peacefully sleeping not know how close she had come to being a plot to a famous kids' movie circa 1995...though probably with not quite the happy ending.  At some point, Molly had taken the empty box out of the bag, stuck Agnes in it, and then replaced it.  Eric unknowingly took it out with the rest of the trash.  Thank you, St. Anthony!

On second thought, maybe I'm the one who has a special relationship with St. Anthony.  Happy Saints' Day!