One day, when I was 14, I found a four-leaf clover. Wow! How lucky could I be? How much luckier would I get? I gently plucked it and carefully carried it home, not taking my eyes off it. I didn’t trip or fall so its luckiness must’ve been working, I thought. I arrived home safely. I gently placed it on a tissue and neatly folded it. I placed it in a safe place; under my lamp on my night stand. The next day it was going to be pressed and framed.

All excited, in the morning, I took the tissue and carefully opened it. Empty! No four-leaf clover! Only a tiny bit of soil from the roots! Humph! Some lucky clover! Was the lucky part finding it in the first place?

I hadn’t given that clover a second thought until today, it being St. Patrick’s Day. But as I write this, I can’t help believing how lucky my life has been. I have a wonderful husband and a precious daughter. I have the respect of those friends whom I love and respect in turn. The nice home and endless photographs of my travels pale with knowing everyone I care about and love is safe. I have a deep faith and trust in God. Oh, wait....

I haven’t found another one since. Four-leaf clovers? Who needs them?

“Good luck is often with the man who doesn't include it in his plans.”
~Anonymous