Many of us have some wacky, pseudo expectations such as expecting rain after we wash the car or when we plan a picnic, or bad luck if we walk beneath a ladder. Fun, but this isn't about that.
At night when I fall asleep, I expect to awaken in the morning. It hasn't always been so, nor will it always be.
I expect stars to burn in the night sky. (I expect them to burn in our daytime sky as well, but seldom think of it!) I expect clouds may gather and interfere with my view, but not with the existence and presence of stars. I expect clouds to eventually move on.
In so many circumstances, I expect great sorrow to come as inevitably as the seasons.
Elation. Happiness. Ah, these keep me balanced. They come more as surprise than expectation. I do expect surprises of all sorts, though try not to navigate my life's course by them.
Joy. This is something I've grown to know. More than an expectation, Joy IS. It's inner presence is so astonishing, I'm almost timid about claiming it will always remain with me.
Of course I could go on and on. My expectation is that I'd become tiresome, if not irrelevant.
Upon awakening
Morning topics come to me unplanned, from somewhere, anywhere. I welcome most of them and join in on the conversation already begun in my head.
Stirring my morning brain today (despite the extreme beauty of the sunshine streaming into the bedroom) were the tears, or worse, the blank expressions of oppressed women of the world, emotionally and often physically abused.
Do they have expectations?
Are they devoid of hope?
How can Hope and Expectation feel the same?
How do they differ, and how might one effect the other?
In the worst case scenarios, do the abused, neglected, oppressed lose the ability to
experience disappointment?
In the worst, worst case scenario, does one have even a memory of being disappointed? Or did early disappointments soon become expectations?
To be disappointed! Is that ability a blessing in the sense of reminding us we haven't yet lost hope?
Well, I'm sorry if I've brought you with me on a path too grim. It led to a scene vastly populated with children and men as well as women. I simply followed the path.
I'll close without giving my considered answers to the questions above. Your answers, if you choose to meditate on these things, will likely outshine my own
This amazing Kansas day on the cusp of spring has dawned on a good and easy life for me. I'm so thankful! I'm drawn to pray specifically for the oppressed, abused, and neglected today. Even the grim path can lead to good things.
bb
