State Fair Prayer
I’ve been going to the Indiana State Fair for years. It was a family tradition when our children were younger. It’s sun and food and fun and can be a learning experience, even an artistic experience if you permit it. I never considered the fair to be a religious experience but this year it surprised me. My wife, daughter and I drove to the fairground on a gloriously sunny August Saturday and felt fortunate to park within the fairgrounds. We carried with us bottled water and snacks but planned on eating at the fair as well. My wife looked at my ratty old shorts and said, “You have to pitch those hobo shorts. Don’t some of the pockets have holes?”
“They’re my favorite.”
We rode the tractor trolley around the fairgrounds to get a feel for what was there; not much was new. A friend of mine used to run a grist mill at the Fair and he’s moved to Florida, but we always stop by his old location and this year a grist mill stood there. We didn’t purchase the freshly ground corn meal because experience has taught us we rarely use it. We listened to an old country music band in the farmer’s barn, which my wife and I liked but my 12-year- old daughter was impatient to leave.
We were ready for lunch and we dined on pork tenderloin sandwiches, an Indiana specialty. Later we had elephant ears and lemon shakeups. The fried Snickers Bars tempted but we resisted. We hiked through the animal barns, eyeing the sheep, cows, chickens, horses, and pigs, including the world’s largest sow. My wife and I like the photography, paintings, and crafts in the Art and Exhibition hall. There are many vendors of all types in the different exhibition halls and several years ago we ended up purchasing windows and gutters for our house through one of the vendors we met. This year there were no such purchases.
My search for the perfect wallet continued at the fair. This may not rank up with the search for the Holy Grail or the fountain of youth or God, but it was important to me. The bulky leather wallet I carried in the back pocket of my hobo shorts barely fit. I dislike the bulky wallets because they can be uncomfortable when sitting and often wear out your pants pocket prematurely. I’ve experimented with the front-pocket wallets, but they usually lack the space for all your cards and stuff and your cash becomes scrunched up on the clip.
I was prepared for my wife and daughter to stop at the many vendor stalls and stands and study the goods carefully and maybe buy something. I have become more patient at the shopping of others though I usually avoid my wife and daughter’s visits to the mall. At one of the stalls thinking I may have found the perfect wallet and liking the $10 price tag I purchased a small wallet designed to fit in your front pocket and transferred my cash, cards, driver’s license, and insurance cards to the new wallet and put it in the upper front pocket of my hobo shorts. I placed the old wallet in my fanny pack.
We parted at the Art and Exhibition Hall, with my wife lingering there and my daughter and I heading to the Midway for rides. We bought our ride tickets at the ticket booth and that’s the last I remember of my wallet. My daughter was riding the bumper cars and I was sitting on a bench in the shade when I checked my pocket for my remaining tickets and wallet. No wallet. I searched all my pockets and my fanny pack with the same result. No wallet. After the ride, my daughter and I hurried to the ticket booth. No wallet there. They told me where the lost and found was and it was a good hike away in the Indiana State Police office. Soon we were to reunite with my wife. My met her by the elephant ears stand and growing increasingly frantic searched the trash cans in the area and returned to the ticket booth again. No luck.
I was now in panic mode and decided it was time to cancel my debit and credit cards. Being in the Midway we had to walk a ways to find a quiet place with decent cell phone reception. We used the phone numbers on the back of my wife’s cards to call and cancel. Mission accomplished. I was upset, quite upset, thinking of the hassle of getting new cards, a new driver’s license, insurance cards, etc. All the joy expired from the State Fair balloon. My daughter had a few ride tickets left and she and my wife whirled on the Whirl-a Wheel while I sat quietly.
I had surfed beyond the whitecap waves of panic into the soft sands of resignation and defeat. A new thought floated across my sullen mind: you know you could pray. The name St. Jude popped up. A convert to the Catholic faith, I had never gotten into praying to saints. St. Jude came to mind because that was the name of my church. Anyway, going with the flow I prayed, “St. Jude please help me find my lost wallet. Please have the person who found it or stole it turn it in. Thanks.”
A minute or two went by. Then an announcement came over the loudspeakers, “Will Jake Bloom please report to the Indiana State Police Office.” My wife and daughter returned, and I told them the news. Their excitement joined with mine. We trekked across the fairgrounds to the Indiana State Police Office. When the officer handed me my wallet I was overjoyed. All the contents were there, including the cash.
The weeks have gone by and I reflect often on my State Fair prayer. My wife and I believe this was prayer answered and not just coincidence. She has informed me I prayed to the wrong saint, for technically St. Anthony is the patron of lost objects. That adds another element to this brewing mixture of faith in action. I sometimes can be a how-many-angels can-dance-on-the-head-of-a-pin kind of guy and can’t help wondering whether St. Jude passed this prayer on to St. Anthony or went directly to the Lord for action. I realize I’m one of millions of believers who panic before praying.
Hope I do better next time.