Careful What You Wish For

“Don’t demand that things happen as you wish, but wish that they happen as they do happen, and you will go on well.” —Epictetus

Let’s rewind to the second grade at St. B. Catholic School—nuns, rulers, itchy plaid skirts, and saddle shoes galore. The halls reeked of disinfectant and chalk dust. It was Christmas, the holiest of holy holidays for Catholic kids—and, let’s be honest, the best time of year for presents!

My teacher announced we’d be playing “Secret Santa.” The thrill electrified us sweaty, red-faced, messy-haired seven-year-olds. Finally—something fun, not another catechism lecture.

All I wanted in the world was to pull my best friend Florence’s name from the velvet bag. The teacher held it out—it looked suspiciously like the kind that once carried a recorder—and it was pre-loaded with every kid’s name.

Here’s where my faith kicked in. At age seven, I firmly believed that if you prayed the Hail Mary, God would grant any wish, genie-in-a-bottle style. So I started chanting it silently: “Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee…” Eyes squeezed shut, heart pounding like a drum in a Christmas parade.

The teacher worked her way down the line. My turn came. I shoved my hand into that bag, still praying like my life depended on it—and miracle of miracles—I pulled Florence’s name. My very best friend in the whole wide world!

I swear I heard angelic harps and saw a golden beam of light descend from heaven. God Himself had just handed me this tiny, perfect miracle.

Then came recess. I made a beeline for Florence—I had to know who she picked. Looking back, I don’t know why I was so insistent. (Seven-year-old logic isn’t really logic.) I badgered her all through recess, wielding the full power of Catholic guilt until she finally confessed.

She had drawn my name.

Wait—what?! She drew my name?! That was my prayer! Did God just give us a double miracle?

But then Florence asked who I had picked. And in that instant, like a lightning bolt straight from the heavens, I realized the truth: my “miracle” was more like divine mischief. I had drawn her name, she had drawn mine, and by revealing it to each other we had completely ruined the entire Secret Santa game.

In the end, this story has always stuck with me as a lesson: be careful what you pray or wish for.

I should have prayed that the game went as it was meant to—not the way I wanted it to. Because sometimes, what you think is best the universe, God or whatever divine interference you believe has a different plan.