Adventures with St. Joseph

I almost didn't write this post because I feared (even one) lecture-filled email about this adventure. So I'll start by saying please don't write me a lecture-filled email. Please understand that this was just an escapade. I PROMISE.

And if you don't believe me, hear this: I told my mother about it. If it was mom-story-worthy, you can know it really was meant all in good measure.

In this quest to sell my house, I've had several (yes, SEVERAL!) people ask me if I've buried a statue of St. Joseph in my yard. The first few who asked received blank stares. So finally, I googled the thing. Here's the full story, but the bottom line is that if you bury a statue of St. Joseph in your yard, your house is supposed to sell.

My own mother has asked me several times if I've purchased Mr. St. Joseph (are you allowed to double title?) and I always roll my eyes and offer my exasperated Mommmmmmmmmm.

This week I made a little trip over to the (sigh of joy) Hobby Lobby in Fort Wayne, to pick up some supplies for an upcoming Pinterest project, and guess what just happens to be a few doors down? A huge Christian bookstore. So I scootchy-scooed over there and found my way to the gift section to see if they had a spare Joseph for sale. They did. They had about 15 of him, actually. Must be a lotta people trying to sell houses in the greater Fort Wayne area.

So I made my way to checkout, inwardly begging the cashier not to ask if I was going to have a burial party when I got home. (She didn't.)

Here he is:

Kinda scary looking, isn't he?

Anyway. So I got out the instructions and wrapped him in a baggie so he'd be all nice and clean. I headed to the garage for the garden trowel, and y'all - I can't find it. It's buried somewhere in all the boxes I have for someday-packing.

So I grabbed the huge spade, took my Joe-in-plastic into the yard (where it was both dark and raining) and started digging.

Oh my word. Am I on the set of Desperate Housewives? Just in case, I cast some furtive glances over my shoulder.

I dutifully buried him upside down, facing the house, covered the evidence and returned the spade to its rightful place.

Then I came inside and just laughed at myself. (I skipped the prayer. Jesus has heard my house prayers and I'll leave those with Him.)

For the record, here are my two favorite parts of the instructions: "For those with no yard space, use a large flowerpot." LOL - good to know provision is made.

And this: "If you are praying to Saint Joseph for matters not related to real estate, you may find another prayer better suited." - That was found under "tips and warnings." I am duly warned.

This concludes tales from Desperate Bekahland. (Insert ominous music here.)