So this all started when I was cleaning out my grandma's attic last Tuesday. Found this dusty old book about obscure saints, right? Totally random. Cracked it open while eating lunch, and boom - turns out there's a saint for literally everything. Even weird stuff.
What I Actually Did
First, I grabbed my laptop and just started digging. Googled things like "saint for bad dancers" and "saint for lost keys" at like 2am. Fell down this crazy rabbit hole of catholic forums and weird history sites. Made about seven cups of tea during this phase.
Then I compiled the wildest ones into categories:
- The Mundane Stuff: Saint Anthony finds your car keys, Saint Lidwina's for ice skaters (she broke her back ice skating!)
- The Actually Bizarre: Saint Drogo protects coffee? Saint Columbanus for motorcycle gangs? Made me snort my tea.
- The Dark Horse: Saint Lawrence who got grilled alive - he's now patron saint of comedians. Like, what?
Putting It Together
Pulled out my ancient sketchbook because I kept visualizing these pairings. Drew this little comic series:
- Saint Martha wrestling dragons (patron of housewives)
- Saint Cajetan looking over a casino (patron of gamblers)
- Saint Vitus doing the Charleston (patron of dancers)
Used watercolor pencils and everything. Messed up St. Moses the Black like three times - dude's the patron saint of Africa but apparently also helps with skin care? My hand kept slipping.
Ended up scanning the pages and posting a carousel on Instagram. Wrote super casual captions like "this saint finds your AirPods" with shrugging emojis. Got tagged in theology memes for three days straight.
Why It Stuck With Me
Honestly? It's not even religious for me. The idea that humans made up divine help for everyday struggles - spilling coffee, tripping on stairs, losing TV remotes - is somehow comforting. Like medieval anxiety solutions.
My DMs blew up with people sharing their favorite weird saints. Best one? Someone told me about Saint Polycarp of Smyrna - patron against stomach aches and earaches. Dude got martyred with a sword to the gut, so people pray to him for indigestion now. The absolute irony.
Left the book on my kitchen counter. Now every time I burn toast, I joke about invoking Saint Lawrence of Rome (patron of chefs). Still forget to call him when the smoke alarm goes off though.
