How I Met Saint Anthony of Padua

Or how he made it impossible for me to ignore him.

Jul 23, 2025

Two days ago, I came back from a trip to Washington DC, where I took part in a week long Catholic leadership program in partnership with the Catholic University of America.

I had a great time, learned a lot, met very interesting, respectable people, and further strengthened my commitment to living my faith publicly and help other men get closer to God.

The single most impactful event that happened during the trip, however, was my first encounter with a saint.

You know, I’ve never really been close to the saints. I don’t pray to them that often and I’ve only recently started to read more about their lives. It’s not that I don’t believe in their intercession, it’s just that I came to Catholicism after reencountering my faith on my own, outside of the Church, and thus my prayer life was more “protestant” in that it was always about speaking directly to God.

My girlfriend, a cradle Catholic who’s very close to the saints and who deeply understands their power, has been helping me out, gifting me books about them and helping me understand some things. She was with me in DC last week, and she’s a key part of this story of me meeting Saint Anthony.

At the beginning of last week’s program, we were asked —very specifically and adamantly— NOT to lose the keys to our room, since we would have to pay a fee nearing $100 dollars to the university if we did. During the entire week, I was very aware of having the keys in a safe pocket of my jacket, since I was not at all keen on losing them.

About halfway through the program, we visited Saint Matthew’s Cathedral, a beautiful old church. There was a little chapel in the Cathedral dedicated to Saint Francis. In this chapel, there were beautiful paintings all over the wall, and underneath them, brief segments of Saint Francis’ “Canticle of the Creatures”:

“The Canticle of the Creatures”, by Saint Francis

At the center of this chapel, there was a statue of Saint Anthony of Padua. My girlfriend kneeled down to pray for a bit, and I moved on to see the rest of the Cathedral. I knew this was a Saint she really liked and to whom she prayed to often. She had been trying to get me to learn about him and other saints frequently, but I usually just brushed off her efforts somewhat carelessly. I just didn’t really see the point. But this was clearly important to her.

Long story short, we continued with our day, left the Cathedral, and went to walk around the city for a few hours. As soon as we left Saint Matthews, I checked my breast pocket for the key, and it was still safely there. At around 7pm, we decided to start making our way back to the University. I had taken off my suit jacket and had it folded on my arm because the summer heat of mid July was getting to me.

We arrived at the metro station of the university and made our way back to the dorms. Imagine my shock when I noticed that the key was nowhere to be found. The breast pocket was empty, it wasn’t in my bag, nor did my girlfriend have it. I was pissed. I hate losing stuff, even more so in such a dumb way. I was fully aware of the importance of the keys and I had been very diligent in checking that they were always where they should be.

It simply made no sense, having lost them. We should’ve noticed them fall out of my jacket. In any case, I started retracing my steps: all the way back to Trader Joe’s, where we had bought some food. They told me they hadn’t found them. Then back to the metro station, where a kind lady helped me look for them, unsuccessfully. I was sweating heavily, I was pissed off with myself and feeling really dumb for having lost them. If they weren’t in Trader Joe’s or in the metro station, they could be absolutely anywhere in the city. I was losing hope and started to accept my fate.

As I made my way back to the dorms, I remembered Saint Anthony was the patron saint of lost items. Still a bit skeptical, I decided to ask him for help. As I walked frantically, looking right and left to see if I spotted the keys lying around, I prayed to God for help, and then briefly added: “Saint Anthony, I know I’m not that close to you, but I’ve been told you help recover lost items. If you help me now, I’ll make sure to make an effort to get to know you better.”

The keys remained lost. I ran into my girlfriend in the campus, as she was also looking for the keys. We decided to make our way back to the dorms, and as we passed through the central building of the university, we heard someone calling out to us from the information desk:

“Are you guys looking for a set of keys?”

They probably saw the worried look on our faces.

We approached the desk, and they took out the keys from a small drawer.

“Someone brought them just now, they found them lying around.”

We thanked them profusely, and I felt both relieved at having found the keys, and a little bit ashamed at how stressed I had gotten due to the whole situation.

As we triumphantly walked back to the dorms, I told my girlfriend how I had prayed to Saint Anthony, and she confessed she had been doing the same.

Most shockingly, she told me that when she had knelt down to pray in front of Saint Anthony’s statue in the little chapel in the cathedral, she had told Saint Anthony that she wanted me to meet him, and after him, to open up my heart and make an effort to get closer to the saints.

It’s difficult to see such things as coincidences when you live a life of faith. Maybe it was just that, a coincidence. But I choose to believe that Saint Anthony heard her prayers, and decided to introduce himself to me in such a clear and undeniable way that I would have no choice but to fulfill the promise I’d made to him.

I’ve been told many times that the Saints find you instead of you finding them, and my experience now is that this is true. Even me, stubborn as I was, couldn’t help but see Saint Anthony’s intercession and help in real time.

In hindsight, I realize he had been trying to introduce himself for some time, but I had refused to see it. I remembered how many times my girlfriend told me about him, how I bought her a Saint Anthony medal a few months ago and how last year my Instagram feed was flooded with people I knew praying the novena to him.

It is the Catholic belief that the Saints are our friends in Heaven, and they want nothing more than to intercede for us and help us grow in our faith so we can join them there.

I won’t say I’m now his best friend, simply because a friendship goes both ways, and even though it’s clear that he wants me to know him, I haven’t yet done my part.

But I’ll keep my promise to him, and I’ll develop a relationship with my new friend in Heaven.