To attend a choir concert one time, Mom and I found ourselves seated in an enormous and ornate cathedral. While we waited for the program to begin, we silently admired the architectural details; and we couldn’t help noticing something quite foreign to us: statues of saints all around, with their names.
I recognized names of the familiar St. Teresa, St. Francis, and so on. But the name on one statue jumped out at me. Given my wacky sense of humor, I couldn’t resist leaning in to Mom and whispering (while pointing toward St. Hilarius), “I think I’ve found my patron saint.”
Mom stifled a chuckle. She further scanned the row of statues. Then she whispered back, “Do they have a St. Clorox?”