Ten years ago, I had a massive crush on a guy from the church choir. We had great conversations after Mass, but nothing ever seemed to move forward. He was sweet, friendly, and talked to everyone, which made it nearly impossible to tell whether he liked me or was just being his usual charming self. Naturally, I devised what I believed was a foolproof plan.
At the time, I’d occasionally bring cookies to choir practice. Since we were singing at Mass on Valentine’s Day, inspiration struck: I’d bake themed cookies. One of them would say “Call Me,” and I would very strategically ensure that Mike Scholl received that cookie. If I was on his radar, he’d have a reason to call. If not, well — everyone was getting cookies anyway, so no harm done.
I passed them out. Everything was going perfectly.
Until the man standing next to Mike loudly announced, “Mary Claire! Mike’s cookie says ‘Call Me,’ and mine just says ‘#1 Fan.’ What’s a guy got to do to get a Call Me cookie?”
I’m sure I turned red. Then redder still when Mike asked, “Yeah… can I see what other cookies you have in the bag? How many ‘Call Me’ cookies are there?”
I wanted to die.
But I didn’t.
After Mass, during Social Sunday, Mike came and sat next to me. A friend was with me — one who knew every detail of my brilliant plan. Mike showed her the cookie, and without missing a beat she said, “I think you should follow the instructions on that cookie. Maybe it’s not just a cookie,” while giving us both a very pointed look.
Was there a hole nearby I could crawl into?
No.
That was Valentine’s Day ten years ago, in 2016. That night, he called me.
And I didn’t answer.
I was far too mortified and convinced my plan had failed spectacularly. But he left a message, I regained my dignity, and eventually called him back.
Thus began two very long years of friendship.
Why two years, you ask?
Because Mike, as it turned out, was discerning a call to join the Franciscans.
Devastating, right?
Still, we became close friends. We volunteered together. We saw movies. We even explored a cave. Mostly, we just spent time together — often with my son, Andrew, tagging along — while I quietly prayed my heart out.
I prayed that Mike would hear God’s call clearly. I could sense his hesitation. In fact, after visits to the Chicago motherhouse, he would often text me before his plane had even reached the gate, asking when we were hanging out now that he was home. Those two years felt like an emotional rollercoaster. I tried very hard to remain hopeful, open-minded, and prayerful in a way that wasn’t entirely selfish.
Eventually, he committed to the Franciscans.
I was heartbroken.
(Though I suspected it wasn’t truly where his heart was — but that’s his story.)
One day, I opened my Bible to pray and found a foldable holy card of St. Philomena. I had bought it ages earlier but had never actually read it. That day, I did. I learned she was known as a “Wonder Worker,” someone who boldly begged Jesus to answer prayers.
So I began a novena.
I gave her three rather ambitious intentions for those nine days. The first two were answered almost immediately. I was stunned.
But surely she wouldn’t grant the third.
The third was for Mike to come to his senses and marry me.
In my desperation, I even made her a deal: if this worked, I would name my first child after her.
On Day 7 of the novena, I arrived late to handbell practice (Mike and I both played). We were discussing how to replace two members we were losing that fall.
“Wait,” I interrupted. “We actually need three new members. Mike leaves for the Franciscans in two weeks.”
The woman next to me looked confused.
“Didn’t he tell you? He just told us he isn’t going after all.”
I nearly fell over.
I couldn’t even look at him.
Could this be real?
And guess what?
I didn’t talk to him for weeks.
Now I was angry he hadn’t told me first.
Fortunately, Mike is a better human than I am. He eventually broke the ice. A few months later, we were dating. A few months after that, engaged.
Reader, I married him.
And soon after, we welcomed Philomena (now four years old!) into our family.
Yes.
I had to come clean about the deal and make good on my promise to the Wonder Worker, after all!
