I think me and my expectations need to break up. I have valiantly carried them with me for decades and decades—expectations for myself, my family, my friends, the teachers of my life, the service people in daily life, the political power-brokers, and just about everyone. And by expectations, I mean high ones, but most of the time, I would settle for decent. And still, I get disappointed.
This past weekend, I had high expectations for Mother Nature, too. We had signs of Fall here and there, but the majority of trees were still green, so I figured if we headed north, we would see some Autumn glory. Yes! We went up to Crow Wing State Park in the Brainerd area, and I fully expected to see a forest of beautifully-colored trees and plants. Umm, not okay. It didn’t look any different from those here at home. And sure enough, I felt disappointed.
The only thing I was even half way happy about when we arrived was that the Mississippi River water level was higher than the last time we were there. The last time, rocks poked up through the slow-moving water and the shoreline was sandy-muddy wide—I was so disheartened that I would not even take a picture of it. The drought had taken the ‘mighty’ out of the Mississippi.
Crow Wing River was a narrow channel of water where it flows around Crow Wing Island to meet the Mississippi. The tributary was doing its best to contribute, but the lack of rain up-river starved it of its normal current. Some recent rains had tempered the extreme drought conditions, but we were far from ‘back to normal.’ And that also partly explains the story of the trees—they had had a stressful summer. Their priority had been staying alive—and oftentimes, the endeavor is not pretty. Many leaves had dried up and turned brown from lack of moisture. We crunched through them on the trail. But the green of the trees did hold a slight golden hue, so perhaps it was also my entitled expectation that just got the time-line or the place wrong.
I complained for awhile (forgive me, Mother Nature), even as I noticed the more subtle signs of Fall. The perennial plants and grasses were different shades of Autumn—rust, burgundy, and orange—and they had all produced their varied and valuable seeds! The harvest abundance of Autumn seeds had formed and matured despite the constricting conditions of drought. The will to reproduce is strong.
As we walked and I noticed the pinking of Virginia Creeper on its way to brilliant crimson and the late-flowering spike of Mullein against a tall Oak, I realized that I had been wrong in my expectations. I had been arrogant to think that the forest of Crow Wing should be what I wanted it to be when I wanted it. I expressed my realization out loud to Chris, giving credence and appreciation to the ‘process’ of Autumn. We can’t just be present for the ‘glory.’
And soon, I began to see signs of the ‘glory!’ The sky had cleared to a brilliant azure blue with puffy balls of white clouds. An Ash tree stood like a tower of golden finery. A Red Oak had begun the transformation to its namesake color.
And a little Ironwood tree stood on the edge of a Pine forest like a princess among the royal elders, its skirt held out in a curtsy with dried seedheads for a crown.
Chris’ good snake-eye saw a slim little Red-bellied snake camouflaged among the rusty red Pine needles. That’s a treasure!
A Maple tree, in just the right sunny spot, displayed the colors of Fall—yellow, orange, and red—in the ‘process’ of winding down its chlorophyll production, of letting the summer leaves fall away, and of preparing for the season of Winter. It was doing what it needed to do.
The sun light and the shadows of the things that stand in its way, tell stories that flash into our brains and rest there until we are ready to take them out, hear them, see them, examine them. Expectations are part of those stories.
Disappointment can be the very real outcome of high expectations. It feels like a slap to the face or unexpectantly taking a hard fall. It stings, it’s surprising to our self-centered way of thinking, and it is a betrayal of sorts. That’s the thing about expectations. But just as I’m ready to throw in the towel on expectations so as not to experience disappointment, I become a referee between those high expectations and the results of letting go of them. There are reasons for rules, standards, protocol, doing things right, living up to our better angels, and wanting the best for others. It’s how the game of life is played. It’s how we mitigate chaos, produce results, ensure safety, and live with joy that comes from goodness. Last weekend I wanted the glory of Autumn on my timeline. What I got was a soul-smacking dose of disappointment and a subtle take-me-by-the-hand walk to humbleness. A lesson to temper my expectations? We carry the light and the shadows of our stories, and when we examine those stories, the old things fall away, including some expectations and disappointments. We embrace the process. We celebrate progress, even if that means stepping into winter. The light in our eyes and in our lives gets brighter.
