Trials for Disobedience — A New Friend
By Marie Foley

Walking over a mile to the village grocery store with precious coins jingling in my coat pocket, was somewhat like a beautiful dream. This meant that I would get to keep a few cents for candy after the sugar was bought. To an eight-year-old child, growing up in a large family, this was a real treat. I had a wonderful sense of maturity as I made my way out on the narrow road. Dad trusted that I would follow his instructions, "No shortcuts through neighbour’s hay fields."

Climbing a few alder fences would shorten my journey; but there would be no tramping down precious fodder for me. The hay was almost as tall as I was and soon men would be out with their sharp scythes mowing down the cattle feed. In doing so, they would be removing forbidden warm hiding places where my friends and I hung out.

Oh yes, my sisters and I were in a different world there . . . safe from the damp winds that blew across the gulf and raised Goosebumps all over our skinny arms and legs. Lying on our backs down in the long hay and looking up at the sky, we were as cosy as fleas on a kitten.

My legs began to tire after I walked about halfway to the store. The next neighbour’s fence looked so inviting, I thought of climbing it to shorten my journey. The temptation was very strong, in fact so powerful that I proceeded to climb up the tall fence only to tumble headfirst into the dry hay on the other side.

Picking myself up, I checked my pockets for the money. The only things I found were a few white rocks that I had picked from the beach…not a sign of the change anywhere. Now I knew my decision to take a shortcut was not such a hot idea. Feeling a bit numb I knelt and carefully separated strands of hay hoping to find a trace of where the money had landed. I could almost see Dad waiting for sugar to spice up his mug of tea.

Realising that I wasn’t getting anywhere, I took the next step . . . I would pray to Saint Anthony, the finder of lost articles according to every Catholic. I often heard my mother and other people talk about the things that were found by praying to him.

Well I was desperate, and kneeling and looking up at the grey clouds I began my pleading.

After making a pledge to Saint Anthony, I looked directly in the direction of the road and there, scattered in one small area, was the money. Every cent of it! Without a moment’s hesitation, I jumped back over the fence, quickly gathered the coins and was on the long route to the grocery store.

The journey back home seemed so short, as I ran at high speed to make up for lost time. I felt I had learned a valuable lesson that day; but more importantly, I had made a new friend in Saint Anthony. I even returned the remaining change to my father saying that I didn’t want any candy. I can still remember the perplexed look on his face as he stared at me and slowly sipped his hot mug of sweetened tea.