Unmet expectations

 

Unmet expectations. Two words lethal in their combination, like hope wrapped in the vice grip of could be, would be, won’t be and, ultimately, neverness that choked the life of hope out altogether. Unrealized dreams. Unknown desires. Unfounded hope. Unmet expectations.

We all have them. Steps we took, one after the other, in a direction we never arrived to. We hit roadblocks and we persevered. We had doors shut in our faces and so we searched for keys, or other ones or at least a window. Some of us were just stopped in our tracks for no good reason other than it felt like the wind got taken out of us. We stood lost and uncertain, without our direction and holding maybe loosely by then, or maybe with the last remnants of a death grip, to a hope that was less than so, expectant no more.

I was going to be a photographer. A freer of slaves. A writer. A traveler. A missionary. A fashionista (don’t laugh). A leader. A well rounded, well respected, at least well off young person. A homeowner. . . And they all sit like piles of luggage at my feet. Once picked up, most thrown away, some foreboding in their taunts that if they aren’t picked up again soon they find their way to neverland - and not the place where none of us have to ever grow up, but if we are not careful where we wander aimlessly. Lost boys we might become.

And those are just the ones I’ve set down or thrown away, there are the others that I fear William Paul Young would call future tripping. The ones I want, but fearfully so, with trepidation that I can’t make them come to be. A good wife. A good mother. A mother. A safe space. The friend to others I want for myself. A thinker of others. A whole person. A prophetess.

God and I recently had a discussion about these foreboding expectations that are waiting for another word tagged in front of them that will advertise their impossibility. I had been told to ask Him for something I should give up. Something He wanted left at the cross where he so horrendously and beautifully paid the price for it. He said, my anger. It took the wind out of me, that one. My anger and I have had a long-standing relationship, forged in hate and cemented in a companionship, a pillow of comfort for all of my could have or should have beens. I knew it was right and good the moment He said it, but prompted I still asked why. And that’s when He did it, He set me free. Because He told me without anger, hope couldn’t be snuffed out. Expectations that don’t come to fruition, without anger, are just, well,  a change in direction, a rerouting for the heart, the soul, the life. They don’t become unmet but rather new hope. Expectation renewed

So what are they? Look at the pile at your feet, the fistful in your hand, the expectations unmet. Acknowledge them. And know this truth - if you walk in a direction and it twists and it turns and it changes, if the door gets locked and the wind gets knocked out of you, it’s not another tick on a list of who you should of been. It’s your badge of honor that hope is still yours. Renewed. Found new. The steps that brought you here were never wasted, for here you stand. Here you have grown. It’s ok to open the grip of your hands and surrender to the beautiful newness of the unknown. He paid the price for your future, and it’s never lost and it’s not really baggage for you to carry it’s an arsenal of hope.

I know for me, anger will no longer be my companion. If I am honest, there’s some luggage that needs to go to goodwill. And there’s some that i’ll pick back up again. Some that I will open my fists and lose, some that will be realized. But most importantly every step in every direction will be one forward, with hope.