How a little faith goes a long way

Many moons ago, as a young freshman in high school, my English teacher, Sr. Barbara, shared a short prayer with the class:

Patron Saint of Lost Items Tony, Tony, look around. Something's lost and must be found.

This prayer has always stuck with me - for when I lost something trivial or something important. I have to admit that I probably only halfheartedly said the prayer, not always truly believing it would work, not because I didn't believe miracles could happen but because I wondered whether it was really "right" to pray to find something I so carelessly lost.  Does St. Anthony really need to help me find my library book that I carelessly put somewhere I can't recall?  I always thought it was my own fault for not taking care of something.

However, the other day I lost my wedding band: the one my mother gave to me to use, the one my stepfather gave to her on their anniversary, the one I had thought maybe one day I would maybe pass onto my daughter. I had taken it off for taekwondo class, put it into my coin compartment in my wallet, and tucked it into my bag.  After class, I grabbed my wallet and walked over to grab some dinner with my kids and some friends.  I kept closing the coin part back because it kept popping open, aware that my rings were in there. (Yes, in retrospect, clearly I should have put it on after taekwondo, but I didn't...so let's move on.)

Later that evening, I looked in my wallet...and it was NOWHERE to be found.  I started praying.  I looked in the taekwondo bag, my purse, again in my wallet.  Then Thursday, I looked some more.  I had no idea where it could be.  I kept praying. 

By Friday at noon, I had come to accept the fact that I may never see my ring again.  Even so, I kept saying the prayer, believing it would somehow turn up.  Then I went back to the place we ate dinner at Wednesday night, Mojo Burger, almost two whole days since the ring went missing.

After I told the cashier what I was looking for, she went into the back room.  Minutes seemed to pass.  Another lady said, "I don't think we found anything," and headed to the back as well.  More time was ticking.  I was now repeatedly chanting in my head: "Tony, Tony, turn around.  Something's lost and can't be found.  Something's here or something's there.  I have looked everywhere.  Please help me find it."

The two women returned to the front.  One of the ladies said, "My husband has it.  It looked expensive and he didn't want to leave it here.  We live just a mile away...he'll be here in a few minutes."  I almost cried. 

It gets even crazier.  They later informed me that someone found it OUTSIDE of Mojo Burger on the sidewalk and turned it in on Thursday morning.  

To the owners at Mojo Burger, thank you for holding onto my ring.  To the anonymous person who found it on the ground, thanks for turning it into Mojo Burger.  And to St. Anthony, thank you for bringing my ring back to me.  I am truly a believer that even the littlest prayers can be answered with a lot of faith.