I’ve been saying this for a couple of months, but it finally made sense to me a few days ago: It doesn’t do any good to worry about the Match. It’s very simple: If God wants me to be at the place I like best, it doesn’t matter how I rank them, or how they rank me, it will work out. And if he doesn’t want me there, it doesn’t matter whether I have great grades and rank them first, it won’t happen. And all the possibilities from there on come out the same way. I can’t exactly hope to finick my Match list to arrive at a result contrary to God’s plan; and neither can any of the programs I’m applying to. So what if he obviously isn’t going to explain the plan to me until the middle of March?
So Alice would you please stop running probability combinations in your mind of how things will turn out in each of the five different ways you could arrange your list? Stop already!
Reading Winston Churchill’s history of World War 2 made me do two imprudent things: agree to play Risk with my brother, and offer to play the world domination form of it (rather than the more limited mission format). This led to three straight hours of four of us grouped around a board of plastic figures, yelling insults at each other, and impersonating, by turns, Robert E. Lee, Hitler (because the person with the grey pieces was taking over Europe), Stonewall Jackson, Stalin, Winston Churchill, General MacArthur, and General Long (I think he was in the Revolutionary War; it took him forever to make decisions). The game came to its usual conclusion: after several turns, everyone decided that, whatever else happened, they definitely wanted their oldest sister to lose, and ganged up on me. I offered to surrender a couple of times, when I had been reduced to eight countries and nine men, but since no one could agree on who would receive my countries and my cards, they wouldn’t let me surrender. Our mother tried to feed us lunch in the middle, and didn’t understand the storm that greeted her efforts to disrupt my last-bid attempt to control Asia.
Which is why we only play Risk every five months. That’s how long it takes me to forget how frustrating it is to lose, and how unlikely it is that I’ll ever control three continents before everyone decides to ally against me.