St. Anthony in the Parking Lot

Tonight after dinner I drove to Target to buy some much-needed pants for our 12-year-old, as well as Halloween candy for tomorrow night. Someplace between my house and the store, I lost my wallet. I headed home. I looked around the kitchen and family room. My husband searched the minivan. No wallet. So I drove back to Target, about 20 minutes away, praying out loud to St. Anthony, patron saint of lost objects.

Dear St. Anthony, please come around. 

Something's been lost and can't be found. 

I checked the parking lot. Maybe my wallet had fallen out of my pocket? No luck. So I reported the wallet missing at customer service, leaving them my home phone number. I considered that if someone had found my wallet, the odds were good that he or she was an honest person and would find a way to get it back to me.

 When I walked in our front door my husband smiled and told me,
"I have some good news for you." 

"You found my wallet?" 

"No, but someone else did. "

About 20 minutes after I left - just, by the way, as I was praying - an Asian Indian couple appeared at our front door. They had found my wallet in the parking lot and figured it would be more helpful to stop by than to mail it to me. They drove about half an hour out of their way to deliver it.

What can I say? We're surrounded by a cloud of witnesses. Angels live among us. 

 What a fascinating
adventure, friends!
Traveling it all the way,
we will be able to testify to
everyone a reason capable
of acknowledging
reality in all its profundity,
when everything seems
to conspire against the
renewal of social life.
This is our contribution.

-Father Julian Carron,

Beginning Day, October 2011