Expect only the unexpected. Now there’s a lesson I’ve learned the hard way. When asked as a teenager what my life would look like at age 30, I didn’t hesitate to rattle off my list of expectations. Here is a short list of them at age 17 (It’s okay. You can laugh):

 

I’d be married to a man who drove a Chevy Z71 (lift preferred) with an excellent career 

and washboard abs.

I’d be a healthy, fit, cool mom of at least 3 kids and 1 pending adoption.

We’d own a modest suburban home with a yard for the kids to play.

Obviously I’d be a homemaker full-time and volunteer part-time.

 

I turn the big 30 this year and the only above expectation I can check off the list is that I am married and it’s only been 3 months. (Well ok, we can check off the washboard abs too). The point is that my life has taken a very different path than once expected. Whose hasn’t?  

There was a season in my life when it seemed as if every expectation I had ever had, completely burst before me like shattered glass. I’ve come to name this season New England Winter. Funny thing is I wasn’t living in New England during this season. I was living in the sunny, warm, southern, blessed golden state; the place where I’ve always called home. This New England Winter lasted nearly 2 years.

I call these 2 years New England Winter because A of all, New England winters are awful and B of all, when you are in a New England winter, you feel as if you are in purgatory. (Okay maybe that’s a bit dramatic but when you are a west coast beach bum all your life, enduring a New England winter is dramatic).  

During a New England winter, everything dies. And by everything, I mean everything. Not only do every signs of life die around you, all that does manage to remain alive is brown. Blah. Even the sun shines less during the day. A sunset at 4pm is just wrong. People seem more irritable and grouchy during New England winters too. Maybe it’s because their finger tips are constantly on the brink of frost bite or maybe it’s because they all feel fat wearing layers and huge jackets to keep warm.

I managed to survive not 1, but 2 winters while living in New England earning a graduate degree. I was in my mid-twenties when I finished up that degree and headed back west, thawing out with each mile gained in Black Jack, my beloved 4runner. About 9 years had passed since my naïve 17 year old list and I hadn’t met any of the expectations on it.

New England Winter in southern California the 2 years after returning from the actual New England proved to be a challenging time, a confusing time, a time of grieving the loss of expectations, a learning time, a time of listening and not as much talking and both a hardening and softening time in my life. Part of me died during this time. Like I said, everything dies in winter, including expectations. New England Winter is such a pivotal season of my life; I’ve begun to write about it. I refer to this collection of writings as Coffee & Airports. I hope to share my experiences in this collection by painting a picture of what this lesson of expecting only the unexpected has taught me.

I’ll give you a sneak peak into the thesis. It’s about clean hands raised in worship while mud is flinging and swirling about below. It’s about the war waged within between doing and being. It’s about a prideful girl, learning to become a humble woman. I plan to share pieces of this collection from Coffee & Airports in the coming weeks and months and look forward to hearing about your journey with expectations as well.

I can joyfully say that my New England Winter is melting away and spring is approaching. The brown is being replaced with vibrant colors and the cold is becoming warmer by the day. The fragments of shattered glass are being molded into an incredible mosaic. I've learned to equate contentment with a lack of expectations. The fewer expectations I place on myself, the more content I am.  I have only begun to scratch the surface of understanding this verse from the book of Philippians:

 

I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want.

 

For too long I didn’t have a clue how to learn the secret of being content. I am learning.

What expectations did you have at 17? What do your expectations look like now? What do you think is the secret of being content?