As I twirled it around for my friend to see, I noticed one of the links was open and a charm was missing. At that moment, I didn't know which charm it was, so I tucked that tidbit of information to the side while I finished showing off my other charms and got started on my work day.
I sat at my desk and clicked away on the computer, lost in the busywork of the day when suddenly, I literally jerked in my chair, as if struck with a convulsion. Like an electric shock jolting me awake, I jumped as I held my wrist up to closely inspect all of the charms. It suddenly hit me. I knew which charm was missing.
It was a small, round, gold locket, engraved with the initials “BK” and the date, “1920.” My grandpa, whom I was very close to up until the day he died, had given it to me. Raised a strict Catholic, it belonged to him and was a gift to him from his parents for his Confirmation. It was 91 years old and very precious to me, as I don’t have many things from my Grandpa. My heart began to race and my breath quickened. I blinked my eyes furiously and began to scour my desk and the floor. I realized it was missing when I showed off my bracelet to my co-worker, so I retraced my steps, searching every inch of the carpeted office. I felt sick to my stomach. My co-workers tried to soothe me, but as each hour ticked on, my stress and aggravation level grew to a mind-numbing, worry-filled headache. I searched the path from the door out to the parking lot and to my car. I got on my knees and looked under my car. I kicked the leaves around and I tried to take deep breaths, all the while in a full-on panic that I had lost this antique charm.
I knew I needed to say a prayer…a very specific prayer to Saint Anthony. For those of you who don’t know, Saint Anthony is the Catholic Saint of Lost Articles. My mother taught me the words when I was a little girl. “Something’s lost and can’t be found, please Saint Anthony, take a look around.” Oh sure, there might a more “formal” prayer, but those were the words my mother taught me, and sometimes, less is more.
I’ve truly learned that often, less, really is more. A simply phrase can be just as effective as a long, drawn out prayer. A simple equation, E=MC2, means so much more than the sum of its parts. Or how about H2O? Water. Three little molecules that make life possible. A hug to a friend who is suffering, sometimes speaks louder than the fumbled words that may fail us when trying to convey our emotions. A smile or wink from a stranger in passing, sometimes makes us feel just as good as a conversation with someone we know and love. A burger and a beer can taste better than a fancy, gourmet meal from a five star restaurant given the right circumstances. Whew. I think I’ve made my point. Things can be simple and yet still be very effective.
So, my simple uttering of a childhood prayer might sound silly to some, but to me, it was like a life-line – a last-stitch effort – to finding the needle in the haystack. My mother also taught me something very important when she told me about the prayer. She said (in not so many words) that you must only call upon Saint Anthony when you have exhausted your search. You must put forth honest effort and then, and only then, can you call upon St. Anthony for his help. You can’t just use his powers to find the lost shoe to your Barbie doll…this is important stuff here! If there was ever a time I needed St. Anthony, it was now. I had used this prayer several times throughout my life, and I can honestly say, St. Anthony has never let me down. I knew I had to exhaust my search, and I knew I hadn’t searched my house yet.
As my stomach grew sicker and the twisting tension continued to work its way through my aching temples, I called my husband and informed him of my lost charm. I knew it was on the bracelet when I put it on, but after that, it could have fallen off anywhere. Inside the house, outside the house, on the driveway, in the car, in the parking lot at work, in the stairwell…anywhere! He searched and searched and I continued to re-trace my steps at work. My husband called and gave me bad news. He had searched everywhere with no luck. It was time to call in the big guns…I began praying. On my way back down to my car as I was leaving work, I once again searched the parking lot and piles of leaves. My friend tried to comfort me… “Just look at home. I’m sure it will turn up.” But even I could hear the doubt in her voice. The charm itself was smaller than a dime. The odds of me finding it were slim. But I kept telling myself I would search outside on the drive way, and all around the side door near the area that I parked my car. Even though my husband said he had laid across the pavement, looking sideways across the driveway so as not to miss it, I would still double-check. I continued saying my simple prayer to St. Anthony. Over and over…with more desperation. I was concentrating so hard on those simple words I don’t even remember driving home.
Just as I parked my car in front of my house, I saw my daughter, Jane, run outside. I couldn’t hear what she was saying, but she was very animated and very excited and she was calling her dad (my husband) to come outside. She was bent down, near the area where we kept our garbage cans on the side of our house. As she stood up, they noticed me walking up the driveway.
“Is this it Mama?!?” she exclaimed. I ran up to her as she handed me the small gold locket. A tear escaped my eye as I hugged her close. “Yessss! Sweetie, it is!” My husband swore up and down that he looked everywhere outside. He said that Jane was only outside for less than 10 seconds when she spotted the charm.
There are two things that I know for sure.
(1) Sometimes, less is more. Simplicity can be genius; and
(2) St. Anthony has never let me down. Ever.
And by the way, my daughter, Jane, was named for my Grandpa’s wife, a grandmother I never knew. Maybe it was fitting that she found the charm. And maybe, just maybe my Grandpa had something to do with her finding it. Maybe you think I’m completely nuts and that’s okay too. But, whatever the case, the fact is: it was found within seconds of my arrival home, after I said my heartfelt prayers.
Thank you, St. Anthony. And for all of you out there, no matter your beliefs, just remember that sometimes (more often than not), simplicity can be genius.
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