How many of you remember reading "Great Expectations" in high school? A depressing novel written by Charles Dickens, the story follows the life of a boy named Pip from the age of seven until well into adulthood. If you haven't read the book or have forgotten, I'll give you a brief synopsis:
Pip, an orphan is being raised by a hateful older sister and a kind but completely hen-pecked brother-in-law. As the book begins, Pip aids an escaped convict and is terrified he will be found out. Later, he is asked to play games at the home of Miss Havisham, an wealthy, eccentric spinster who still wears her wedding dress though it has been years since she was left standing at the altar. Occasionally she looks in on her decaying, mice-infested wedding cake. Pip is to play cards with Miss Havisham's adopted daughter Estella. When Pip suddenly starts receiving a sizable allowance from an unknown benefactor, he assumes it to be Miss Havisham. In the end, Pip discovers who is benefactor is, attempts to save the life of Miss Havisham, alienates the woman who loves him and is rejected, more than once, by the woman he loves.
A more suitable title might have been, "A Life of Great Expectations and Bitter Disappointments." Not the kind of story you would want to read for Valentine's Day, a day for honoring those we love.
So, why do I bring it up? Because our lives are full of Great Expectations and like Pip we are continually disappointed by the people upon whom those expectations rest.
As a child, we don't have many expectations, at least not until we enter school. It is then that we begin comparing ourselves to others, and our expectations for ourselves and the other students dictate who our friends will be, where each of us will be placed in class ranking, who will and who will not be picked for teams at recess and later, in P.E. and on sports teams.
As a child, I was a scrawny little thing, and I got used to being one of the last picked for teams. When we played "Run Through" I was never able to break through the line. In junior high, I could never get the basketball up to the rim, I couldn't serve the volleyball over the net and let's not even discuss softball. I learned to live with my lack of athletic ability and the disappointment I felt as I watched others succeed.
As far as academics, my parents didn't take an active role in my education and were satisfied if I performed well enough to avoid D's and F's. Because they hadn't encouraged me, I had no expectations of attending college after high school graduation. During my senior year of high school, I was encouraged by friends to consider attending college. I didn't expect to succeed, but did go to college. I graduated with honors.
As a teen, I started working at the Mop Factory in Atchison during the summer months. The idea of a regular paycheck was exciting. Getting to meet new people (teen boy people) was also exciting. That first summer, I definitely had great expectations. I quickly learned that working during the summer with no air-conditioning, with yarn dust floating through the air, was miserable at times and boring at best. Yes, I did meet new people almost all of them older than my mother and I ate lunch every day with women old enough to by my grandmothers! I made the most of it, but it wasn't easy being surrounded by women who were not happy about their circumstances. It seemed the joyful women were few and far between in that factory.
I had realized as a child that no one else could determine what my attitude toward life would be. My parents were both negative thinkers. In fact, when I thought about the old cliche about the glass being half empty or half full, I said my dad saw the glass as half empty and my mom saw that same glass with poison in it. I didn't want to live like that. I knew that God loved me and that if he loved me enough to send his Son for me, he didn't want me to be unhappy all the time. And I knew that God wanted me to love others and I couldn't do that and be suspicious of their every move. I decided to live a joy-filled life. Now in their defense, my parents had been raised differently than I had. And in later years, I saw their attitudes improve dramatically as they developed relationships with Jesus Christ.
I took my joy with me everywhere I went. That's not to say I wasn't disappointed when people didn't live up to my expectations. And I must admit my joy was not enough to save me from disappointing other people. Especially my husband.
When we married, he had no reason to believe I wouldn't be a good cook. His mother and grandmothers were all wonderful cooks. He had been surrounded by good cooks at Camp Creek Church. Why would he expect anything less? Well...if we had dated longer than six weeks before getting engaged, he might have learned the truth.
Our first breakfast as man and wife was an eye-opener. Until then I had not noticed his appetite...I fixed French toast for him. I only fixed two slices because that was what I had seen my father eat. He immediately asked for two more. I was quite pleased with my culinary skills. When he finished those, he asked for two more! Again, I complied, but then I stood at the sink and wondered if I was destined to spend the rest of my life in the kitchen! I had no idea one man could eat that much!!!
Unfortunately for him, we couldn't eat French toast three times a day. I didn't know how to cook. I could make hot dogs, grilled cheese, creamed eggs on toast and a hamburger and noodle dish. That was it! He didn't like any of them. Not then and not now. He had expected more, and I couldn't deliver at least not for several months. He suffered through one disastrous meal after another, never complaining. If it wasn't for the noon meal he ate with his parents while I was at work, I'm sure he would have nearly starved! I was determined to become a good cook and I think he will agree that I have succeeded, but it took more time and practice than either of us would have hoped.
He wasn't the only one experiencing disappointment. He let me down, too. Unrealistically, I had expected him to save me from all things unpleasant. I knew laundry and cleaning had to be done, but I went into marriage thinking I would be able to complete all required tasks without getting a spot of dirt on my clothes and without a hair on my head falling out of place, just like June Cleaver on "Leave it to Beaver."
It hadn't worked that way for me when I helped at home growing up, but I'd seen enough television to convince myself that married life was so blissful those tasks were magically completed and at the end of the day there was still enough energy to enjoy each other's company in the evening. Now that was a stupid expectation. Marlin did not deliver me from the unpleasantness of overflowing toilets, backed up kitchen sinks and mice!
Growing up as a tomboy of sorts, I was most excited about being a farm wife. I wanted to be the best farm wife ever! I wanted to be as good at it as his mother was, maybe even better
We had been married a few weeks when harvest began. I had learned how to drive the tractor the previous spring and I was eager to prove myself. I remember only one day from the harvest that year. And it was indeed memorable...
In a single day, I managed to get hung up on a telephone pole with an expensive piece of equipment - there was no damage - unless you count my pride - as I was going slow and watching carefully. After I got loose, I managed to get the tractor stuck. It took a combine to pull the tractor out, but in my defense it wasn't stuck that bad until Marlin decided to rescue me. In his frustration, the tractor got hopelessly stuck.
I was sent home to prepare a meal for five men and two women, a Herculean task for the likes of me! I did prepare a meal, naturally it took longer than I had expected, but I was quite pleased with myself. I knew I had made enough for everyone to have seconds if they wished - I had prepared a LOT of food!!
My excitement soon turned to despair as I learned the only vehicle available had a flat tire! I had to run to my in-law's farm and unfortunately, the only vehicle there was one I despised - "Old Blue." A pile of junk, in my opinion, the seat wouldn't move forward and the gear shift danced all around making it nearly impossible to keep your eyes on the road while shifting.
I stopped to feed Marlin and his cousin first. They devoured the casserole, leaving less than enough for one person. They ate all but two dinner rolls and they cleaned up all but a tablespoon of corn. They didn't touch my jello salad, but that didn't upset my as much as the realization than I couldn't possibly feed five more people!
It worked out in the end as everyone else suddenly decided they weren't hungry and would eat when they got home. I was not disappointed, I was devastated by my shortcomings that day. I went home and cried, vowing to never help on the farm again. As you must surely know, I changed my mind, but the disappointment I felt that day was immense.
Like Pip, in Great Expectations, all of us are disappointed by other people. Why? Because we are all of a fallen nature. We are all selfish and jealous, we are all prideful and unkind. That's human nature, but God asks us to be more. He wants us to be like Jesus, as much as is humanly possible. We are to love everyone we encounter, and not judge because we don't know what life has dealt the other person. We are to be kind and thoughtful. We are to be content with our lives and circumstances while working to show ourselves worthy of all God has provided us.
People are going to fall short of your expectations and you are going to fall short of theirs. Knowing this, you don't give up. You try harder to see the good in others and look past the things that annoy your. You try harder to be a better spouse, employee, parent or friend. You try your best to live up to God's great expectations for your life.
My joy comes from the Lord, not circumstances or relationships. People may disappoint...God does not.
On the other hand, I did see my prayers answered. I saw a complete spiritual healing. I watched as a man who had been bitter and angry, softened his heart. In spite of what he said, I always felt like my dad knew the Truth and accepted the existence of God. His anger was not directed toward God, though sometimes he claimed it was; my dad's anger was directed at the church, at organized religion, and at the people who represented the church. 
