I have expectations of three people: My wife, my almost four-year-old son, and myself. That’s two people too many. Still, there I was, the other day chiding my son because he was whining like a, well, three-year old. He’s sensitive. He gets upset easily. He could be hungry or tired or both. Or he could just have his little mind set on something and then that something doesn’t pan out. And he gets angry. Sometimes, he screams. I don’t like that. And then I get angry at him. This is not good parenting . . . based on expectations that are too high. And I know this (mostly because my wife tells me so) and so I make adjustments. I need to be the cool and collected, rock-like voice of reason and calm. My anger might be real but it doesn’t need be turned up to ten in the face of a sensitive little boy.
But really, to be fair, I have much higher expectations of myself than I do of my eldest son and my wife. I beat myself up over all kinds of things. I feel shame when I’m supposed to feel shame. I feel guilty when I’m supposed to feel guilty. And, eventually, I get over it, maybe even learn from it occasionally, and move on. According to some, I don’t move on quick enough. According to some, shame is not a good thing to feel. They’re wrong.
But my great expectations don’t extend to other human beings all that often anymore. I still have expectations, mind you. But they’re rather low. And sure, people sometimes don’t even reach my low expectations. Yes I’m talking to you, O people of Earth who drive slowly in the passing lane. But these are trivial matters, usually.
What matters is this: you’re just asking for trouble if you have high expectations of your fellow human beings. They will let you down. But more than that, when you have high expectations of others, the result often translates into low expectations of yourself. You start to wonder, “why doesn’t this person do this or that?” Or, “Why doesn’t this person understand me or help me?” Or “If only we were all like ‘this’ then everything would be better.”
Maybe so. But to quote Gandolf, “That is not up to you to decide. 
All we have to do is decide what to do with the time that is given to us.”
(Sorry, I’ve been watching Lord of the Rings lately.)
I’ll speak for myself. Once I start pointing fingers, I inadvertently take myself out of the equation. And that’s not right. If someone does something that I think is unfair or inappropriate or lacking sympathy, then it’s fine for me be upset. But when others let us down, you should know, they owe us nothing. It would be great if we were all wise sages with time to help everyone who crosses our path. And we should strive to be so caring. But reality tells us that the world is full of jerks and jokers or, at best, people who have many responsibilities. If they can’t be there for you, not only might there be a good reason but even if there isn’t a reason, it’s still not their fault.
Here’s how I see things. Or how I try to, anyway.
We have a bunch of things going on in our lives. And we juggle most of them. I for one am pretty lousy at juggling stuff. For instance, I don’t keep a calendar outside of work appointments. So, I forget things. I procrastinate. I let things slide. Things I don’t let slide are things near and dear to me. I make sure my wife knows I love her. I make sure I spend time with the kids. A lot of time. I do chores around the house because my wife is exhausted. The list is a long one. But at the top of the list has to be my relationship with the unknown universe some of us call God. This universe has to be foremost in my life. I have to converse with it. I have to plead with it. I have to beckon it. I have to remember it. And I need to take my medicine when it so deems. I expect it to be there because it is real. The universe I speak of is the universe of spiritual attributes, i.e. love, guidance, faith, unity, forgiveness, compassion, etc.
I admit, I’m a little lacking in that last one. Okay, so I’m a little lacking in the first one and second to last one, too. But my point is that I know this universe can’t be part of my juggling act. It has to stand alone, high up, on a shelf, right next to the Lord of the Rings trilogy.
Ahem.
Hopefully, if I keep this universe in its rightful place, then I will be able to meet my own expectations. And, maybe, I’ll even meet the expectations of my wife and kids. And just maybe, I can meet the expectations of others. But I can’t worry about that. That is not up to me to decide. I can try. But how can I meet the expectations of others when I don’t really know what they are?
No. Life is hard. I refuse to consider myself a puny form.
The universe is in our hearts. And it is speaking to me. To us. My expectations should begin and end there.
And from there I can push out into the world from a place of strength.
