Sandra Cisneros’s short story, “Little Miracles, Kept Promises,” demonstrates the hope and desperation, the affection, and especially the intimacy that devotees in the U.S.-Mexico borderlands feel towards their favorite saints. The men and women who leave notes, gifts, and offerings for the saints at public shrines or at their own home altars address them like friends, confidants, relatives, lovers, and sometimes even antagonists. One couple, Sidronio Tijerina and Brenda A. Camacho de Tijerina of San Angelo, Texas, hints at a litany of enduring pain and suffering as they give thanks to the Blessed Santo Niño de Atocha for helping them “when Chapa’s truck got stolen,” stating matter-of-factly that “he’s been on probation since we got him to quit drinking,” and “Raquel and the kids are hardly ever afraid of him anymore, and we are proud parents” (116). The couple does not expect a complete reversal of fortune or a perfect solution for their troubles, instead focusing on their debt of gratitude to the saint: “We will light a candle to you every Sunday and never forget you,” indicating the degree to which their relationship with the saint is integrated into their everyday lives. Another devotee, Ms. Barbara Ybañez of San Antonio, Texas, behaves even more familiarly with her chosen patron, defiantly threatening San Antonio de Padua, “I’ll turn your statue upside down until you send [me a man who isn’t a pain in the nalgas (ass)]” (117-18). Ms. Ybañez’s plea demonstrates that she feels comfortable enough with San Antonio de Padua to playfully scold him as she would a friend, relative, or lover, rather than simply appease him. At the same time, Ms. Ybañez’s threat indicates that she retains the power of negotiation with the saint, for she is free to switch patrons if necessary.