They’re retired and they don’t have a lot of money, and sometimes not a lot of patience. But they have St. Anthony working for them. They’re my parents. They were over to pick a few free lemons from a tree in my backyard the other day and just when they were about to leave my father, who walks with great difficulty, realized he didn’t have the car key. We spent a lot of time looking for the key in the tall grass around the lemon tree. Nothing. We retraced his steps, my mother frisked him, he checked his pockets. Nothing. We called their auto repair shop and even a locksmith. It turned out to be one of those keys with a microchip in it--and would have cost up to a $1,000 to replace. The locksmith was apologetic but he suggested to look everywhere and call if all else failed. Meanwhile we got a tow truck to get my parents home and I kept looking, thinking of how the little visit for lemons was going to be very expensive for them. And I started praying to St. Anthony. I wasn’t finding anything but pebbles and was discouraged until the phone rang. After my parents got home, my father changed clothes and as my mother was shaking out his pants, the key fell from the pant cuff. How it snuck in there, how it stayed there through so much movement and jostling, I don’t know. But the saint probably does.
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