I’ve been ruminating on expectations since last week, when the Tutor Trainer in our CC Practicum (who also happens to be a dear friend) chose that as the theme of her daily devotions. She shared a convicting, moving post on expectations that I swear I could have written. I’ve said for years that I’m at my worst as a wife, mother, and Christ-follower when I’m prioritizing other hats; I know, too, that I’m prone to being flustered and ultimately less than pleasant when I’ve built something up in my mind only to find that the reality of the event or situation is falling short of the image of perfect I’d imagined.
My soul, wait silently for God alone,
For my expectation is from Him. —Psalm 62:5
Another friend shared this verse, and again, tears of conviction. Friends, so often—painfully often— my expectations are from my own selfishness, my own desires, my own comfort, my own happiness. Is my soul waiting silently? Sure. On me. Not God.
How often do I stay up a little later than usual, anticipating a slow start to the morning, only to hit the deck running an hour before my normal wake-up time because a child woke up with a wet bed? And when my expectation isn’t met, do I let it color my whole day?
How often do I have a schedule of events lined up in my head, only to find that it clashes completely with what my husband had planned for the day? Am I gracious when I set aside my to-do list?
How often do I know exactly how and when God needs to move in order for my perceived needs to be met? Do I thank Him for His goodness in those seasons, or keep beseeching Him to get with my program?
How often do I see a blossom of character or skill in one of my children, and assume that I’ll be harvesting the fruit the next day? Am I patient and encouraging when faced with a longer learning curve than I originally foresaw?
I’m currently school planning for the year ahead, which means that I have expectations. I’m expecting that this year will have a similar flow to the one before, anchored in music lessons and orchestra and therapy appointments. I’m expecting that Jude will be as engaged as his siblings were when they were four year-olds. I’m expecting that John Mark and Birdie will make tentative steps into that first blush of independence. I’m expecting that Phin will still need a good chunk of concentrated daily time dedicated to meeting his needs. I’m expecting that Simon will become a confident reader. I’m expecting Jack will graduate next spring.
And, you know… any one of those expectations could not line up with the reality God has planned for my family. Goodness knows this past year was nothing like what I saw coming.
My job as a follower of Christ is to move forward as I am called, staying tuned to the Holy Spirit for guidance along the way. That means looking ahead at the school year to come and plotting our steps. And here’s the beautiful part—even though I may struggle to keep my frustration with thwarted expectations under control if the wheels fall of my plan, I have one expectation that I know will be fulfilled: God’s grace will cover my shortcomings, and His plans will be best.