dip a finger on your way in

(tap her, she likes it)

tilt your phone β€” the picture moves

Saint Madeleine

Patron saint of sturdiness, stability, and not knocking it over

Known to her friends as Stumpy Β· Feast day: the first morning you don't stub your toe

Baptised, confirmed, lapsed. Still knows every response by heart.


Her three little miracles

Attested by the clumsy, in kitchens everywhere

β˜•

The Full Mug

Carried across a room, up a stair, and set down without one drop lost.

πŸ“±

The Caught Phone

Slipped from a hand at head height. Recovered mid-air. Screen unblemished.

πŸͺ‘

The Steady Chair

Leaned back too far on two legs and, against every law, came back down.


A little novena

Nine mornings running. Say it before you carry anything with two hands.

Madeleine, keep my elbows close and my mug upright. Widen the doorframes. Soften the corners of the coffee table. Let the floor be where I left it, and let the step be exactly one step.

Steady on. πŸ•―οΈ
Nine mornings. Tap one when you've said it.

No imprimatur. She didn't ask anyone.

Litany of Saint Madeleine

Call on the left, response on the right. You'll remember how.

For the mug filled to the brim
steady us
For the corner of the bed frame
steady us
For the stair that is one more than we counted
steady us
For the glass placed near the laptop
steady us
For the cat underfoot in the dark
steady us
For everything already broken
forgive us

Under her care

Whom and what she watches over


The reliquary

Kept behind glass. Do not touch, obviously.

🍡

The Chipped Handle

Snapped clean off in 2016. The mug survived. The handle did not.

πŸ“Ώ

A Single Lace

Untied at the top of an escalator. Nothing came of it.

πŸ›‘οΈ

The Screen Protector

Shattered so the phone beneath it would not. Martyr, arguably.

πŸ”©

One Ikea Screw

Left over. The shelf has held for four years regardless.

🩹

The Shin Plaster

From the coffee table incident. She keeps it as a reminder.

πŸ₯„

A Bent Teaspoon

Nobody has ever explained this one.


The confessional

Tell her what you dropped. She's heard worse.


The clumsiness barometer

Five questions. Be honest, she already knows.


Light a candle

One for every thing you've dropped today

The shrine is dark. Nothing has been dropped yet.
No candles lit

A quiet minute

Even Madeleine sets the mug down sometimes. Breathe with her.

Nothing is wobbling right now.

4 in, 4 hold, 6 out

The gift shop

Cash only. Everything is sold out and has been since 1998.

🧲

Fridge magnet

Β£3.50
πŸ•―οΈ

Scented candle

Β£11.00
πŸš—

Dashboard bobblehead

Β£8.99
β˜•

Unspillable mug

Β£9.50
πŸ”‘

Keyring, small

Β£2.25
πŸ₯„

Commemorative spoon

Β£6.00

Candle notes: spilled coffee, wet tile, other people's carpet.


Certificate of devotion

Put your name on it. Print it. Put it in a frame, why not.