I was confirmed at the age of 12. The nuns told us to choose a saint because that person would not only be our patron, but, our friend for life. A lot of the girls chose Guadalupe, Mary, Therese and Lourdes. I went against the grain and decided to hunt down my own patroness. After reading what seemed like endless pages of lives of saints, I came upon someone who was my age (at the time) when she was martyred: St. Agnes. Of course, at the age of 12, I read the “sanitized version” of her life (veiled mention of the confinement to a house of prostitution and gauzy explanation as to why her hair grew–I appreciated the full story later in life). I chose St. Agnes as my patron.
When my turn came to approach the bishop, I told him that I had chosen Agnes. He smiled (after a plethora of Mary’s, Maria’s, Guadalupe’s and Lourdes’ it was nice to hear a totally different name). I then got picked to answer the toughest question of all: what does transubstantiation mean? I gave the bishop a lengthy answer (my dad caught on tape) and he said I was right.
Ever since then, I have observed my patron’s feast day every year. While I am disappointed that I hadn’t lived up to her moral fortitude, I still implore her protection and her intercession. I suppose we’ve been “friends” now for some 28 years.