My wife’s name saint is Anne. Her feast is Sunday, the day before we depart for the West. She is the patron of housewives, as many of you likely know. I didn’t learn until recently that the mother of Mary is also the patron saint of the Brittany region of France. Which also happens to be the name of the young miss.
The diocese we are leaving is under the patronage of Raphael, my favorite angel. Turns out my wife had a devotion to him long before we met. Perhaps he was at work, unseen. Our new diocese is under the patronage of “Holy Angels” more generally, it seems.
Two centuries ago, next week’s trip would have been an arduous journey of many weeks, if not months. And travelers would have needed all the divine patronage they could get. Even so, it is comforting to me and my wife not to be alone on adventures like these. Next week’s relocation will easily out-mileage all our previous moves combined. And yet, I don’t feel at all nervous about it. As challenges have been met, I find myself more and more relaxed. Could be all the prayers.