Thirteen months into our marriage, my wife and I had our first daughter. Twenty months later, a second daughter. Twenty-three months later, a third daughter. We were exhausted. Sometime after the first daughter, but before the second one—or was it after the second one, but before the third one—to be honest, things are still a bit hazy. In any case, we were tired, in survival mode and needed help.
As a Catholic I know that there is an army of saints waiting to help. All you need to do is ask. But, like a typical man, I didn’t bother asking for help in many parts of my life.
Eleven years ago deep in our baby fog, my wife and I went for a small hike on a local trail in Mission Viejo, CA. There we were, new parents discovering fresh air again, dragging our sleepy bodies through the ground cover and the foliage scattered about. I carried the baby in the Bjorn for a midday afternoon hike and we were back in about an hour.
We set up camp down the road in a Starbucks. As usual, our camp consisted of nursing covers and diaper bags filled with clothes and lots of tiny diapers. Just as we sat down, my wife looked at me terrified—the diamond from her wedding ring was missing! We looked everywhere—on the floor, in the cushions, in the car seat—nothing. I looked in the car, around the car and on the sidewalk and could not find it.
My wife stared at me with her sad eyes. I knew what I had to do. I said, “I’m going back to the hiking trail.” And off I went and drove the car back to the hiking trail.
“There’s no way I’m going to find this thing,” I thought. I spoke out loud, “Please God, show me what to do.” I marched out of the car and got back on the path we were on a little over an hour ago. I scanned the surface, looking for a shiny object. I brushed the ground with my hands and feet, hoping to literally find a diamond in the rough. Nothing.
It was getting darker and harder to see. I made it to what I thought was our turnaround point from earlier in the day. Did my wife really expect me to find her diamond way out here amongst the loose ground, leaves and trees? Did I?
When I get back empty handed, she would feel horrible!
I decided to try one more thing before taking the trail back to the car. I closed my eyes and prayed, “St. Anthony, please help me find the diamond for my wife’s wedding ring.” I spun around, knelt down and paused. When I opened my eyes, I was stunned. Within arms reach was the diamond for my wife’s wedding ring! My eyes doubled in size, my mouth would not shut. I looked in every direction for some explanation. No one else was there but me and St. Anthony.
When I showed the diamond to my wife, she was amazed. I was amazed. We are still amazed. Thank you St. Anthony! Pray to the Saints—we all need a little help once in awhile.
Peace.
P.S. My creative side could come up with a cubic zirconia twist for a husband who could not find the diamond—and if I was the one that lost the diamond, I might have hustled my way to a jewelry store to do such a thing. But years earlier, my wife’s wedding ring did kick off an idea that did lead me to writing my first novel. It’s not quite ready, but stay tuned.