Finding Peace

Today’s generation has a myriad of issues to deal with from a poor economy, sky rocketing prices to childhood obesity rising at an alarming rate. Many find they are sandwiched between caring for their aging parents as they simultaneously juggle the activities of their own growing children. Those who are not blessed with attentive adult children who do not wish to reside in a nursing home are forced to rely on hired help in their declining years. A friend employed as a fulltime home manager for just such a couple shared her experience.

St. Anthony—the patron saint of lost causes is one saint I am sure many even outside the faith call upon…every time they cannot find a treasured item or need encouraging along life’s path.  My research shows the prayers to St Anthony vary but a popular prayer is as follows:

Saint Anthony, perfect imitator of Jesus, who received from God the special power of restoring lost things, grant that I may find (mention your petition) which has been lost. At least restore to me peace and tranquility of mind, the loss of which has afflicted me even more than my material loss.

My friend was the caregiver who attended to Vito’s needs. He often referred to her as his personal St Anthony—because she always had an answer, idea or resolution to his problem. Whether it was a lost set of keys or misplaced piece of favorite jewelry…she always found it. When he was observed using silverware to extract a piece of wedged toast from the toaster she provided him with a safe means of retrieving his toasted bread. She certainly didn’t want him to hurt himself by getting shocked.

Everyone got to hear how St Anthony saved his life and how appreciative he was to her for her devotion. It was no secret that his caregiver was a woman of faith—even though she didn’t share the same church affiliation as he. So strong was his faith in her that when he lay near death wailing inconsolably in his fear of condemnation—it was to his own personal St Anthony that he turned for comfort.

Vito was a chemist by trade. Years before he played a large part in creating the first birth control pill manufactured. This went against all his religious doctrine. Near death he worried that his part in this business would somehow prevent him from entering his eternal rest in peace at his journey’s end.

He voiced his lament and was not disappointed when she had the answer—ask for forgiveness. It was that simple, yes, his St Anthony did indeed have the answer to his ‘lost cause.’ She didn’t waste time in long explanations but lead him in a prayer of forgiveness. He passed away quietly and in peace with his maker.

So my friend, when you feel you have lost all hope—all is not lost…tell God your need and don’t forget to thank Him for what He alone can do.

Unbreakable

Growing up with two older brothers meant I had ready protectors—as long as it was someone else harassing me. My siblings could reign terror over me, the youngest, with no one to run to. Like the times they shut me in a steamer trunk and sat on the lid laughing at my screams. Another game was completed by rolling me into a bed sheet and swinging me ‘jump rope’ fashion. It is no wonder I have PTSD flashbacks when confronted with certain situations.

As you might expect, I recovered. Well at least from most of the abuses—I still have a dark part in my heart that may never mend—especially so since both my brothers are now deceased.

One thing I never understood—okay maybe more than one. Why anything marketed as “unbreakable” had to be proved false. A plastic hair comb labeled thusly had to be bent and contorted til it did in fact break. Barbie dolls though not touted as unbreakable were almost always missing heads or limbs. The breaking point was not only limited to my toys—I recall a Christmas when my brother received a Stretch Armstrong figure. They would stretch it and pull that toy trying to make it snap. Old Stretch almost made it if it hadn’t been for the extra deep ‘deep freezer’ in the garage. I have no idea how cold the freezer was set to but after a night in the frosty interior Mr. Armstrong was no longer stretchy. He shattered on impact. Foolishness.

We as grown up often think foolishness is left in the hands of youth. Sadly it is not so. The news is filled with incidents of road rage, domestic disputes that lead to lost life and utter nonsense actions that should have never brought about loss. It is all a matter of self control. My siblings proved their lack of control in the way they chose to live their lives. As the youngest offspring I at least learned from some of the mistakes they made. And have learned lessons the hard way on my own.

I have learned that hearts and spirits are not unbreakable and should be handled with care. Mine is proof of that. Yet that same heart has been mended many times over. I may look at some things with a bit more cynicism and be less likely to commit to a friendship—but the friendships I cherish have been proven many times over. For these I am thankful.