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That's Life: Speak Up; Saints May Be ListeningBy Phyllis McGuire
iBerkshires Columnist
07:32PM / Monday, March 30, 2009
A number of popular TV programs, such as "American Idol," "Survivor," "The Amazing Race," pit contestant against contestant. And I wonder if any of those contestants carry a rabbit's foot or wear certain clothing for good luck, as do some people when they embrace a challenge. Some people pray for help.
I have been pestering St. Jude, patron saint of hopeless cases, for more than 40 years.
Once when I sought his intercession, I was sick with worry because my premature son's life was in jeopardy.
My prayers were answered, with my son surviving and being released from the hospital.
I have kept the promises I made to St. Jude in thanksgiving, encouraging devotion to him, making donations to St. Jude's Children's Hospital and giving my son the middle name Jude.
On Sept. 11, 2001, the horrific events at the World Trade Center brought me to my knees as I implored St. Jude to keep safe my children, Christopher and Jennifer, who worked in New York City.
I was unable to contact them all day — the phone lines to New York were busy — but my vigil ended around midnight when both Jennifer and Christopher called me, within a half hour of each other, to let me know they had finally made their way home.
I also call upon St. Jude to help relatives or friends who are immersed in stressful situations — unemployment, illness, or financial difficulties.
 But when I lose something, I turn to St. Anthony, the patron saint associated with the return of lost or stolen articles.
When I was unable to find the rosary beads I always keep beneath my bed pillow, I removed all the bedding and searched the whole room, including the rug, to no avail. Because those rosary beads hold sentimental value, I begged St. Anthony to make them reappear.
A week after I began praying daily to St. Anthony, my cleaning lady found the rosary beads on the rug beside my bed. Go on tell me they were there all the time. Impossible! I had walked on that spot a dozen times.
There are brides-to-be who put a statue of St. Joseph on the windowsill the night before their nuptials, believing that will usher in a beautiful sunny day.
Last year, I learned that St. Joseph is also credited with ensuring that a house will be sold. All the prospective seller has to do is bury a statue of St. Joseph and recite a prayer to him.
A friend of mine bought a kit containing a 3 1/2-inch statue of St. Joseph, a waterproof bag and a prayer to St. Joseph said to be 1,900 years old.
"It's best to put the statue head down in the ground 3 or 4 feet from the road, or near a 'For Sale' sign," my friend said after she had sold her house and had moved into a condominium.
Twenty years ago, my husband and I tried to sell our house in New York on our own. We received some weird responses to our newspaper ads, including a man who wanted to inspect the house at midnight and the people who drove by our house repeatedly as if they were "casing the joint."
One couple rang our doorbell at 8 one Saturday morning when my teenage daughter was still sleeping. They, of course, wanted to see all the rooms in the house.
 I peeked into my daughter's room before opening the door fully for the couple to enter. The room was a mess, clothes strewn on the floor, candy wrappers, books, a soda can and a baseball mitt scattered on the desk. In an attempt to make light of the embarrassing situation, I told the couple, "Neither my daughter nor the mess comes with the house."
After two months in which our efforts to sell the house proved fruitless, we listed it with a real estate agency.
Among the hints the Realtor gave us: "Always have a pot of coffee brewing when we show the house. It produces the homey atmosphere people are looking for."
We did have coffee brewing the afternoon a couple with two children decided they wanted to make our house their home. I hope they are happy there. |
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