A year or so ago our oldest was packing for a weekend trip to Grandma’s house. He was growing increasing despondent because, months before, he had lost track of his Nintendo DS and really wanted to take it with him for the car ride. He had searched the whole house several times, was ready to give up, and plopped down on the living room chair.
“You know,” he said, “Mrs. D. at school told us about a prayer we could pray when we lost something.”
“Oh?” I replied. “You mean the prayer to St. Anthony? ‘Tony, Tony, look around. Something’s lost and can’t be found.'”
“Yeah, that one. I hope St. Anthony can help me find it.”
I am absolutely not making this up: 30 seconds later the kid gets a strange look on his face, plunges his hand into the cushions of the chair, and brings out his DS.
That is the day my oldest became a believer in the power of prayer.