Sometimes I wish I were Catholic, because I love the concept of Patron Saints. I love that there’s someone specifically assigned to the task of looking after certain classes of people. It’s efficient. God delegates. And there are so many of them.
So I went to americancatholic.org to find myself a Saint. You know, to keep me out of trouble until I find a therapist. There’s a lengthy alphabetical list.
First I looked for the Patron Saint of Divorced Women. Sadly, there isn’t one of those, though there is a Saint assigned to Difficult Marriages (St. Rita of Cascia). Ok, Catholics aren’t big fans of divorce, I understand. Next I searched for the Patron Saint of Women. No luck. But there are two Saints for Widows (St. Frances of Rome and St. Paula) and also several for Women in Labor (Sts. Ann and Joachim and St. Elmo). Huh. There’s a trend here.
I clicked on M, randomly, and found that there are Saints for Married Women (St. Monica) and Mothers (also Monica, as one follows the other, I suppose). Clicking on S, however, did not yield a Saint for Single Ladies.
I did get a little satisfaction on the E page, as there’s a Patron Saint of Editors (St. John Bosco). Finally someone will understand how I feel about the Oxford comma! To my surprise, there’s also a Patron Saint of the Internet (St. Isidore of Seville), who must be very busy and probably has a wicked porn addiction.
Sadly, after perusing the entire list, I failed to find a Saint I felt I could claim as my own. No Patron Saint of Jodi or of Middle-Aged Grant Writers or of People Who Are Sixty-Five Inches Tall.
I think I shall invent one, as I’m not Catholic anyway, and I have no one else to look after me. Considering the possibilities.