I consider myself pretty adept at following written directions. Even better, draw me a picture, and I will assemble bookshelves, floor lamps or vacuum cleaners, and on a good day even attempt installation of a variety of electronic equipment. I am the person who lays out all the pieces, checks them off on the "parts included" diagram and goes step by step, while my husband Pete just visualizes what it should look like completed and jumps right in. Something missing? Just dig through the woodshop or truck toolbox and improvise.
I say all that to say this- sometimes I do very well with expectations. I like them. I like to know the expectation, see it all laid out and work toward it. I have a goal and I can gauge my progress by looking at the diagram unfolded before me. Conquer and move on.
It's just that sometimes my expectation does not line up with the actual situation. For instance, this Christmas my neighbor was away and contacted me to ask if I could be on the lookout for a package for her son containing a live plant. They were called out of town unexpectedly and she did not want his gift to languish and freeze to death in the post box. Well of course I wanted to help on general principle, and it didn't hurt that she had ordered a Venus Fly Trap and as a teacher I was intrigued. Daily I inspected the package box down at our cul-de-sac, and finally this little fella arrived the Friday before Christmas. Fortunately for him, she thought to text me at the last minute that Little Shop of Horrors could only drink distilled water. Well, I wanted to do it up right. So I traipsed over to Rite Aid and bought a gallon, thinking I'd open the package, set him out on the counter, give him a drink and move on. After all, my husband was in bed with the flu, my brother was visiting with us, I was expecting my daughter for Christmas and had to be in another state the next morning to meet some furniture movers for a project.
Well it was a little more complicated than setting it on a sunny counter. In addition to the pictured diagram, I was confronted with a sack of dried out moss that had to be hydrated (distilled water only!) and aired, along with two and a half pages of very specific planting directions in measurements to the nearest 1/8 of an inch. These informed me that there was not just one, but up to five tiny plants tangled together in the little soggy bundle and I should carefully tease them apart with a toothpick and dangle the taproot to a specific level, planting all of them separately within a surface diameter of about 3 inches without crushing the leaves and traps. Yeah. So now I not only cater to my cats in ridiculous ways, let's add carnivorous plants to the list. Hopefully he will remember my dedication should he grow to enormous size and develop an appetite for human beings.
In spite of my tongue-in-cheek complaining, I really didn't mind following expectations for that little boy's plant, because if it was expected to thrive, certain conditions needed to be met. It's usually my own unrealistic expectations that leave me feeling unnecessarily cheated. Reflecting my holiday experience this year, it got me thinking about the frequent disconnect between our expectations and our reality. I love Christmas, but for many years the pressure to "do" Christmas left me feeling tired and hollow. I actually missed the days from childhood when we had very few financial resources and our family focus was more on the Christmas story, the silent night, the sacred music of the season that reaches deep within and releases beauty, gratitude and longing.
In spite of advertising to the contrary, Christmas can't always be merry. Suffering and Disappointment don't always clear their calendar on our account. As a matter of fact, the whole reason my neighbors were unable to receive an expected package came of an unexpected turn for the worse, a return home to sit with an ailing mother and to await death in the midst of a season when we expect to celebrate. Their son would receive his Venus Fly Trap late; he and his three brothers missed Christmas morning at home to instead attend their grandmother's funeral.
Because "life is what happens while we're making other plans," I am learning that life is less stressful when I let go of some of my expectations and accept the feelings and circumstances of the moment. Whether in joy or grief, surrounded by friends and family, or in solitude; whether things are going my way or falling apart, I try to remember that life has changing seasons over which someone wiser than me is in control. God knows how we should look after we're planted, and what exact conditions are necessary to produce fruit in our lives, and usually that involves not just sunshine, but rain. I hope to lift up my face to both and let them wash over me.
-Jennifer
