Great expectations

It’s the middle of the night and I’m wide awake.

Because my body thinks that it’s the middle of the DAY right now, like it has been at this time for the past week and a half.

But alas, we are home from our adventure to Israel. The thirst for adventure temporarily quenched, my heart refreshed by the change of scenery, my mind foggy from lack of sleep and my body confused at all the disruption of rhythm.

But what did I expect?

Expectations are very tricky things. You want to keep them high enough to require hope and faith, but not too high lest you burden the situation with undue pressure. They also must be low enough to allow for people to be fallible, plans to change and just the generally unexpected to happen, but not too low to risk a life of mediocrity and boredom.

No problem, right?

About halfway through our trip, one of our fellow travellers asked me if what we had seen so far had been what I expected. I thought for a moment and honestly answered that I had been so busy making preparations, I hadn’t had time to formulate any real expectations.

Isn’t that just like life? We get so lost in the checklists, to-do lists, plans and expectations of our own that we forget we worship a God that is capable of immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine (Ephesians 3:20).

I was making a run to the sporting goods store to pick up a few things for our trip and giggled at this sign in the parking lot.

I thought of all the reasons I use to justify parking there, as inundated as I am with expectations. For my kids, my husband, my God and, worst of all, myself.

I fully expect my kids to graduate high school with honors and receive AT LEAST a four-year degree from a decent college; keep the morals, values and faith that we have instilled in them; get a job and be financially independent; marry people who make them happy and have some kids so I can enjoy these grandparent years I’ve heard so dang much about over the past ten days; live somewhere in the continental United States, preferably in the South so we’re within driving distance. (Not sure where Brad and I will be then, but if I had to guess, I’d say Florida or Georgia.)

And it goes without saying that I completely expect them to outlive me.

These are not unrealistic or unusual expectations. I’m fairly certain that these expectations were all held by my mother and her mother before her.

But then, life happened.

Just speaking of myself, I know my mom never expected me to get divorced, get remarried, absorb two stepchildren as my own and make a life anywhere other than Ocala, Florida.

I never expected those things either.

And as I look back over my life so far, I realize that I might need to loosen my grip on my expectations for my kids. You know, give a little room for life to happen.

Beau may decide to join the military.

Sydney may move to Paris.

Caroline may forego college altogether and become a chef or a missionary.

Maybe they’ll get married, maybe they won’t.
Maybe they’ll have kids, maybe they won’t.
Maybe they’ll get those two out of order.
Maybe their personal faith will explode when they leave the nest.
Maybe they’ll have a crisis of faith and take years to find their way back, if at all.
Maybe they’ll hit their groove in life right away.
Maybe it’ll take a few attempts to get off the ground.

And you know what? I realize that the best thing I can do is make peace with the maybes.

Because no one understands the happening of life better than I do. It. Just. Happens.

I’ve seen the rigid expectations of parents absolutely crush their children, who end up feeling like they never measured up or that their parents were always disappointed in them.

Spouses can also be brutally oppressed by the expectations of their mate. Going into a second marriage with eyes wide open, Brad and I were vigilant in digging out as much detail as possible about the other to avoid any surprises or future pain.

Coach and speaker Kyle Cease says,

No one has ever broken your heart. They have broken your EXPECTATIONS.

No matter how realistic or warranted, we are flawed, damaged and sinful creatures who will inevitably disappoint each other at some point.

It is at these times we must apply copious amounts of grace.

And then there are the expectations we have for ourselves.

One of the MANY movies I watched on the 10-hour plane ride to Israel and the 12-hour ride back was Bad Moms. (LANGUAGE ALERT: incredibly foul, superfluously crass, laugh-out-loud funny. Why do those three always seem to go together?)

I was reminded again at the ridiculous level of expectation that rests on the shoulders of moms, put there by the culture in which we live and the other moms we choose (or may not choose) to surround ourselves with.

But the most insidious culprits of these slave-driver, unrealistic expectations are ourselves. That well of grace is shallow and usually dry.

I have improved exponentially in this area over the past few years, but I still see other moms killing themselves to just to reach what our society has determined to be the bare minimum for ourselves and our children.

(Sick of playing that game? Shoot me an email and let’s set up a complimentary coaching call. Know a mom who never has time for herself and everyone around her is paying the price? Send her my way. Life is too short, ladies. And guys: Happy wife = happy life. Excellent Mother’s Day gift. This won’t just benefit her, it will completely change the atmosphere of your home. Let’s chat.)

But let’s push PAUSE on all that and look to the One who created us. What are His expectations for us?

Ask an orthodox Jew (I saw MANY last week) and it may be a much longer conversation than you wanted. The Law. The recipe for perfection that God demanded for His chosen people. Impossible to keep, placated by sacrifice.

Until Jesus, that is. As the old hymn says, Jesus paid it all. And His death and resurrection signed the New Covenant in His own blood. The perfect righteous life He lived is ours for claiming.

So what does God expect from His people NOW? Faith, belief in Jesus’ sacrifice for our salvation, sharing this good news and living in and from that great love.

Know what I’m expecting for Mother’s Day? Three homemade cards, one love letter, a nap and a dinner out. Brad will probably go to Publix for me (one of the hottest things he does) and I will hopefully have eased back into co-leader of the pack and all the responsibilities thereof, after ten days of blissfully ignorant following.

So what do I do with this incessant onslaught of expectations? Place it on the shoulders of the only One strong enough to carry them all, and eventually use disappointment to pound them into iron-clad faith.

And let’s move toward applying grace as quickly to ourselves as we would to a loved one.

God knows we need it.