I Took To My Bed Like A Man In His Last Hour

When I was in second grade kids were tracked. That really means that those that were higher performing students were in one class and those that were lesser performing were in another and those in the bottom were placed in yet another. I was placed in the middle group for this year and it was a foreign land for me since I had only been in the higher group and had no friends in this class.


I felt as if no one liked me, the teacher included. She was new to our school and spoke with an accent and she had a different way of doing things and the way that I was used to doing them was not her way. She had a conference with my mother and I emerged grounded from television.


In order to raise my grade I asked if I could take my reading book home for the weekend and my teacher reluctantly allowed me to do so only with the admonition that I better not lose it. I left the classroom with book in hand with that happy feeling that only the weekend can bring. I came home and asked to go play outside and I did. The next morning I got up and was going to spend some time reading before the Saturday family activities were to begin when I could not find my book. I looked everywhere and it was nowhere. My mother helped me and we could not find it anywhere. Our house was very organized and I didn't have that much stuff in my room so it was obvious it was lost.


I began  to cry and no amount of cajoling would help me. I took to my bed like a dying man and could not enjoy my Saturday. Saturday a kid's high holy day of the week! That evening my grandmother came by to visit and asked where I was and my mother told her of my situation and my being in bed. Instead of wondering why a second grader exhibited so much dramatics my grandma just came in to my room to visit me. She made her "sick call" with kindness and asked why I was ill. I told her that I lost my book and that I was going to be in trouble if I didn't take it back, She assured me that the teacher would certainly not react too badly since she was sure other little boys must lose a book every now and then. I agreed but stated with emphasis,"but Grama, this teacher hates me!" Grandma then said " okay, if you can't rely on your teacher to understand, then you can always call on Senor San Antonio.". Grandma explained that St. Anthony was the patron Saint of lost articles and that any prayer to him would bring results. Her calling him "Senor San Antonio" is like saying my lord, St. Anthony and I knew from her language that this title was one of exalted confidence. I went to Mass the next day and lit a ten cent candle and with a pain in the pit of my stomach I asked St. Anthony for the safe return of my book. 

The next day was a holiday, wouldn't you know, but early Tuesday morning I got ready for school and I was assured by both parents that if the teacher wanted them to, they would pay for the lost book and that if she had a problem with any part of this they were available for further discussion. My father's look made me understand that he would not let anyone grill me for such an honest mistake. My mother encouraged me and said that it was not worth my health to grieve so much about a book.

I went to school like a man condemned. I went to my classroom and as I walked in the door what was sitting on my desk? That right it was my book! Thanks St. Anthony! I knew for a fact that he had so kindly put it there to save me from my problem!

The teacher asked me if I had been in the classroom before she got there. I told her I hadn't and she said, " When I got here this morning your book was on top of your desk."


I vowed on that day to always be grateful for St. Anthony's prayers and encourage devotion to him. 


Now some of you may think that the book could have been placed there by a kind custodian but they had no way of knowing whose book it was or whose desk to put it on. My name was not in the book only a number.


I encourage you to ask the prayers of St. Anthony and you won't have to walk through life as one condemned but as a child of God who takes good care of His children.


St, Anthony, pray for us.
Mark