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Automobile Insight: Unmet Expectations

Automobile Insight: Unmet Expectations

Monday morning I was going through my normal routine, I got in my car to go to work and turned the key…

I’m a person of high expectations, and my expectations for my car is that it runs–every time I turn that key. I spent the time and money laying the groundwork to meet that expectation. I bought a brand new car, a reliable brand and model. I am adamant about taking care of it. I have done everything I can to maintain the expectation I have. It is the most expensive thing I’ve ever purchased (and by myself). I’ve had it for over 10 years. I’ve kept up with the maintenance, and have never had an unexpected repairs. I’ve done everything imaginable to keep that car in a condition where I can always count on it to start and take me where I need to go. Every time.

Monday apparently missed that memo. I turned the key and… nothing. Nothing happened. Well, all the dash lights lit up like a Christmas tree, but there was no sound–not even an inkling that the engine was even trying to start.

I am just going to be honest here, I don’t handle unmet expectations well. I am a detail-oriented and very strategic person who plans and prepares so things will go as expected. No surprises. That is what I like. That is what I expect. So, the car not starting thing didn’t go over well. Especially on a day my husband had gone out of town with a friend to go kayaking and I was breaking out in a poison ivy rash I just hadn’t noticed yet… needless to say, by the end of the day I felt I was living out a storybook. Mel and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day.

The car situation pales in comparison to the other unmet expectations in my life. But serves as a perfect metaphor. Your car won’t start and everyone around you has an answer or judgement. You become frustrated and defensive– “No, I didn’t leave a light on and drain the battery. No, I didn’t forget to fill the gas tank. Seriously, stop looking at me like that. I did everything right. This should not have happened.”

Our expectations say it shouldn’t happen. But it did.

Same thing happened with my career. I went to school and worked my butt off. I was an honor student who studied non-stop, graduated in the top 20 students of my high school class, was offered multiple college scholarships, went to college and continued my dedication to education over socialization, duel majored in growing and competitive industries (Communication and Technology), graduated with honors and a passion to use everything I learned to make an impact in the next place I landed. Well, where I expected to land: a career in the field I spent my whole life preparing for. But when I turned the key, that car didn’t start either. It’s been over a decade since I graduated and I still don’t have a job in “my field.”

My expectations were that if I followed the plan and worked hard I would get the job I wanted. I followed the plan. It just didn’t work the way I thought it would. So far none of the redirections along the way have fixed it either. It just is. I have to live everyday knowing my life just isn’t what I expected and no plan is impervious to unforeseen circumstances. Most of our expectations are unwritten and unspoken. I never really thought about my expectation of my car starting every time I turned the key, but it came barreling to the forefront of my mind the moment it wasn’t met.

My car not starting is sad, wasting my potential in a job where I feel underutilized is depressing, but not being able to diagnose and fix the brokeness in my family is life shattering.

When I married my husband I knew things wouldn’t be easy forever bonding myself to a family shattered by divorce. However, I still had expectations that things would be better than they are. I guess I thought I was immune to surprises, having come from a broken home myself. That I had the answer key, and a map to all the landmines so we could cross the desert without igniting any fatal explosions. But, sometimes I turn that key and the car doesn’t start.

For the three years we have been married, I have daily walked past the bedroom we set up for our stepchildren–a room that they have never used. It breaks my heart to see it empty, I can only imagine how much more it hurts my husband. I long for something I have never had, but he longs for something he lost–the children he created and raised. He recalls fabulous memories of camping and fishing with his kids and remembers a better time; while I have only dreams of my imagination of what I wish for things to be like. We both have our own unspoken expectations. If we allow those expectations to go unchecked and sideswipe us when they go unmet, it can destroy us, our marriage, and our family.

Take a lesson from me and my car: be cognizant of your expectations of things and people. Don’t allow yourself to drift into despair when things don’t go as you expect. We have terrible seats for analyzing our entire lives, our perspective is incredibly distorted being right in the middle of it. I don’t know why my car wouldn’t start Monday, or why we still can’t figure out what is wrong with it, but someone else does. Maybe I just needed to learn this lesson. Maybe I needed more patience. Maybe if my car had started Monday morning, I would have died in a fiery car crash on my way to work. Afterall, while my job seems like a huge mistake that took me down the wrong/unexpected path–if I hadn’t struggled after college I wouldn’t have moved, if I hadn’t moved I wouldn’t have gotten the job I have now, if I hadn’t gotten the job I have now I wouldn’t have met and married my husband, and if I hadn’t married my husband I wouldn’t have started this blog. So who’s to say things aren’t meeting expectations? Just not mine.

So, if you put your key in the ignition and your expectations aren’t met the moment you turn it to the “start” position, try not to be upset. Re-evaluate your expectations. And praise God for knowing what you need every moment of every day. He is not worried about my car never starting again, or my job never bringing me fulfillment, or my family being broken forever, no, God has a much better perspective of the big picture. He is aware of all the work my husband and I have put into building a foundational marriage to break the cycle of divorce for our children, and all the preparations we have made in our home and our hearts for the day our children come home. Maybe I’ve seen the film Field of Dreams one too many times, but I truly believe our work will pay off and my family will be reunited. God sees all of your hard work, too. He is using our struggles to teach us, because our God isn’t a God of meeting expectations, He really prefers to exceed them.

“My brethren, count it all joy when you fall into various trials, knowing that the testing of your faith produces patience. But let patience have its perfect work, that you may be perfect and complete, lacking nothing. If any of you lacks wisdom, let him ask of God, who gives to all liberally and without reproach, and it will be given to him. But let him ask in faith, with no doubting, for he who doubts is like a wave of the sea driven and tossed by the wind. For let not that man suppose that he will receive anything from the Lord; he is a double-minded man, unstable in all his ways.”  James 1:2-8 NKJV

The Most Depressing Time of the Year

The Most Depressing Time of the Year

I love Christmas. Love. With a passion. You will definetly see me skipping around this time of year, wrapping everything I get near and singing “It’s the most wonderful time of the year!” while watching Hallmark movies nonstop,  but it doesn’t always feel that wonderful.

Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Years all pile up to form a trifecta of togetherness that can overwhelm anyone who is separated from a loved one and lead them down a dark drag of depression and desperation. I have countless stories of of tears and drama that make up the ghosts of my Christmas’ past. One of the hardest things is dealing with a crash of reality after taking on an extra expectation of miracles… because it’s Christmas–the time for miracles, right?

My husband and I are still waiting on our Christmas miracle (or anytime miracle for that matter). 2017 marks the sixth Christmas we have spent together. Our memories together are joyous and wonderful things to celebrate–and I have the Hallmark ornaments to prove it! However, this time of year (and every moment we celebrate throughout the year) is a double-edged sword of joy and heart break. 2017 also marks the sixth Christmas we have spent alienated from our children.

Every year I hold onto the hope that the magic of Christmas will bring peace and reconciliation, and so far every year I have been disappointed. The more I hope, the harder I hurt. But I cannot stop believing. I will not stop believing. God intends to heal our family. My job is to wait and trust. And I will continue to do as I have every year, and trim the tree, wrap the gifts, and stuff the stockings in the anticipation of my family being whole at Christmas. One day it will be. And that will be the most wonderful time of our lives.

Christmas_2017

Man of Sacrifice

Man of Sacrifice

The other day my husband turned to me and asked, “How is it that every day you get more and more beautiful?” I smiled and replied, “Because I love you so much.”

Awwww. So sweet right? My husband is the best. And I am proud of my comparison to Sarah. That’s me so devoted to my husband and God, that I am blessed with great beauty… a princess.

The next morning I awoke, shaking away a strange dream. My husband and I were on a train, and I was sitting beside him, but pretending to sleep while he chatted with another passenger (my husband is the kind of man who has never known a stranger and seems to have a life goal to talk to every person on earth.) At some point the passenger points to me and makes a comment about my beauty and my husband tells him that I’m his sister.

Weird. I think God is trying to tell me something…  I reflect on the book I’m currently reading “This Crazy Little Thing Called Marriage” by Greg and Erin Smalley, and how at the last group meeting when we were discussing our husbands’ spiritual leadership one of the leaders asked everyone to describe their husband’s character with one word. I chose the word “sacrifice.” It was the first thing that came to mind, as my husband will constantly sacrifice himself, his dreams, his desires, for me, for his children. But after I said it aloud, I internally kicked myself because there were like a hundred “better” words I could have chosen. Or were there?

I know many of you are probably smarter than me and get things right away, but I can be kind of stubborn, so sometimes I have to be told things a hundred times before I listen…

My husband and I are in a spiritual struggle right now, fighting for our family and our children. I tend to get pretty heated over the entire thing, because of my past. Great fear enters my mind for my husband’s children because I constantly picture them going through the struggles that I had while I was living with the consequences of my parents divorce. The thoughts, the actions, the words, the tears–all of it floods my memory. And I ache for their broken hearts. I know I’m not their biological mother, but I want so bad to save them from pain, to take on their pain so they don’t have to feel it. I love them with a love I never thought possible, even though they don’t even know me! And I want to save them from going through the same destructive years I lived in depression, fear, bitterness, and hatred. I want them to know nothing but love and happiness.

We got some bad news concerning the struggle and I was devastated. I tried to hide my tears from my husband. I tried to logically find a way to change our circumstances. But then I just broke down and cried out to God, demanding to know why everything keeps going wrong. Where are your promises?! Where is our victory?!

God replied by pointing out several things to me:

1.) Do YOUR Job.

It seems like I’m forever having this conversation with God:

“Stop trying to do MY job. You’re terrible at it.”

“Well, what am I supposed to do?”

“Your Job.”

“Which is what?”

“Wait.”

Sigh. “But I want to DO something!”

“Well, wait for me to finish doing my job and then I’ll tell you what needs to be done next.”

“OK.”

And then I start trying to meddle again because I don’t feel like anything is being done, and it starts all over again.

2.) Remember Your Story

I am often prompted with the question “How did your story end? You’ll have to hear my entire Salvation story another time, but the short version is that I’m alive today because someone interceded for me.  Anytime I question the power of prayer, God seems to bring that up… me being living proof and all.

3.) You’re not as spiritual as you think you are.

I often get a little high horsey, when it comes to the subject. I got saved when I was 8, and had an undeniable salvation story when I was 15. I’ve spent most of my life studying scripture, and have lived a relatively “spotless” life. Sometimes, it seems to intimidate my husband. He heralds me as the “prayer warrior” and lets me do all the praying, talking, leading Bible Study groups, and giving advice. So, I can tend to get so caught up in myself, I forget that my husband is the leader. I mean, looking at my resume, aren’t I the more “qualified” candidate? Um. No. Actually not. My husband has much greater faith than I do. Like Abraham. Abraham, the “Father of Faith.”

4.) You can’t steal HIS story.

I never really thought of it that way… but the logic is solid. It’s like trying to parent your kids by putting them in a plastic bubble. You can’t keep them from every bad thing. Even if you did, they wouldn’t be able to live a fulfilled life. My story comes from my deepest, darkest moments. Those are the moments when God shines through. You can try to keep your children from every type of harm; but doing so will also keep them from their purpose, their destiny. Because God turns pain into purpose. We are driven by our experiences. Without the moments that cause us to call out for God, we live like we have no need of Him. I can’t steal my husband’s story, or my children’s stories; I can only live out my own and allow God to write theirs.

 

So, to sum it up, after three consecutive messages I received it: God thinks my husband is strong like Abraham. I should too. I see the evidence every day. One of the greatest stories of Abraham is his willingness to sacrifice Issac for the Lord. One day my husband’s legacy will be similar–having to be willing to lose his son in order to save him.

It’s important to note that God never expected Abraham to actually sacrifice his son, God was interested in Abraham’s heart. God judges us by our heart, not our actions. God is interested in the why not the what. So, if you’re going to be like Sarah, be the Sarah who grew more beautiful everyday for respecting her husband. Don’t be the Sarah who freaked out when Abraham left to make a sacrifice with her only son, likely traumatizing herself with her thoughts–that ended up being totally off the mark. Trust your God. And trust your husband. Your husband is well-intentioned and acting on his heart. Chances are your husband is scared to death of what he is doing, he just has more faith than you in the final outcome.

Dealing with Disappointment as a Step Parent

Dealing with Disappointment as a Step Parent

One of the most important things we learn in life is how to handle disappointment. There are two extremes we can fall into–setting high expectations and always feeling disappointed, or learning to set no expectations at all. But there is a healthy medium in the middle we can all strive to meet. As a stepparent, appropriate expectations is an important goal to strive for.

There are many expectations that stepparents have. The most common of these expectations is that being a stepparent should feel like being a birth-parent. In my experience, the stepparents who have the hardest time lowering this expectation are those who also have their own biological children. Their expectations stem from a constant comparison with their biological children. These parents constantly find themselves disappointed when their stepchildren do not respond the same way their biological children do.

My first advice is this: you can have a wonderful, healthy, loving relationship with your stepchild(ren), but that relationship will NEVER be the same as the one with your biological child(ren). Let go of that expectation! It will only bring you heartache and drive your stepchild further from you. Don’t put yourself down, just like the differences between men and women, step and bio parents have different roles. That is OK. It doesn’t make you less important or less loved–it just makes your relationship DIFFERENT.

When a stepparent dynamic is in play–no matter the situation through divorce or death–the nature of the relationship with your spouse is different than that of a marriage without this dynamic. A major component being disappointment. A stepparent often finds themselves having to play the role of encourager to their spouse, being optimistic and setting high expectations to help their spouse avoid depression and disappointment of their own. We find ourselves building hope and trying to make everything positive, in a way that can come crashing down around us if we place too high of expectations on ourselves.

I say this all, not from having some great insight beyond yours that I must share, but because I sit here early in the morning, unable to sleep because of my own bout with disappointment.

Every story is different, but to simplify mine out of respect to my family and an ongoing court battle. My husband has been alienated from his children and denied access to them for several years, he fights a constant uphill battle and I am his biggest (and sometimes only) cheerleader. I know personally how difficult it is to be a child in that situation–afraid to love “the other parent.” So, I fight not only for my husband, but for the children because I know firsthand how desperately they need their father in their lives. That passion sometimes comes with great disappointment. Especially as a stepparent who has never even met their stepchildren.

Most of the time I think I can keep a lot of my expectations in the realistic realm because of my own experiences with my stepparents. But sometimes you just want something too much.

For me it was a hope that my husband would reconnect with his children for his birthday. After a long struggle with the family court system and years of delays, the judge ordered restoration therapy. Finally, my husband would be able to sit down with his kids and a court-appointed counselor and start rebuilding broken relationships and hopefully shed light on any emotional and psychological needs of the children that could be addressed with therapy–which in my personal opinion should be mandatory for every child who has to deal with divorce (and the penalty for any parent who keeps their child from therapy should be a prison sentence for neglect and abuse). Soapbox aside, there was finally light at the end of the tunnel and I was busy to the task of building up my husband as he has been beaten down so much from the journey that he didn’t even believe any of it would happen. We walked away from the courthouse that day and I was like, “Do you realize what this means? You are going to see your children again!” Of course, in my mind I was tacking on “and maybe even before your birthday!”

I saw a perfect opportunity for building a family memory, when I placed a bid at a silent charity auction for 4 tickets to a major league baseball game. I figured, by the time this game rolls around, my husband could have restored visitation… this would be so much fun…. I wonder if the kids have ever been to a major league baseball game before… so many thoughts swirled in my head. So, I put in a bid and left it up to fate. The tickets were worth so much more than I could afford to pay, so I really didn’t expect to win them… but I did. And it felt like destiny. I tucked them away, hoping to surprise my husband as soon as the kids came back into our lives.

But that day didn’t come. Lawyers sparing, counselors too busy to make appointments for weeks… everything in the universe seems to be against my husband reconnecting with his kids. Months go by and we are in the same place we were in before. It’s so frustrating, I just want to scream! And now the day has come and gone for the ballgame I had hoped to be our first family outing together. And I fight to hold back the tears from rolling down on the club-level seat tickets, as I imagine what could have been.

I want to keep encouraging my husband to go on, but at the same time feel so broken and helpless. It seems like there will never be an end to the pain. And my heart aches for the children, whose pain is intensified by their age.

I have to take my own advice and take my expectations down a notch. That would have been too quick of a turnaround to be possible, anyway. Going from years of separation, to happy family outing in a matter of months. I just want it so bad. For my husband, for the children, for my family as a whole. But we have to keep things in perspective and take life one step at a time.

Coincidentally enough, I learned a lot of these lessons from my own stepmother–even if I didn’t realize it at the time. I’m sure she had a lot of her own disappointment moments. But the one I remember in particular had to do with her cooking… You see, my stepmother would often try to cook dinner for us when my siblings and I visited. I’m not sure of all of her motivation behind it, but I do know that we were the opposite of grateful. I remember her cooking things like Chicken Parmesan, which I didn’t like and didn’t want to eat. But at the same time, I was a depressed teenager who blamed my stepmother for my parents failed marriage, so I also had an attitude and deep desire to not like anything about her or anything she did. So refusing to eat anything she made was just par for the course, really.  In retrospect, the night she chopped up fresh veggies and put together a huge build-your-own taco bar, knowing that it was my favorite meal, was probably her “olive branch” in a manner of speaking. I can only imagine how disappointed and hurt she must have felt that I constantly hated her when she had never done anything to me. I don’t remember everything that had happened that day, but I remember that I wasn’t feeling all that well. I don’t blame my stepmother for being upset and disappointed when she had made this huge dinner for me and I informed her that I wasn’t going to eat it. She probably thought I was just being a spoiled little brat–which really wasn’t out of the realm of possibility. I wasn’t feeling all that great, but not bad enough to continue to protest after her “I made this just for you and you will eat it,” moment. So, I reluctantly obliged and ate a bunch of tacos. Which I really regretted when I awoke a few hours after going to bed only to heave-ho the whole meal all over the bathroom.

While it wasn’t the most glorious of experiences, it’s one that marks a turning point in my relationship with my stepmother. Even if I hadn’t eaten that meal, the fact that she specifically made something I loved just for me was huge. And even though I’d have argued that the only reason she did it was because my dad was laid up with a broken leg and wouldn’t have been much help… it was even bigger that she got up to take care of me when I was sick.

So, take it from me. Little actions go a long way. So, don’t get caught up in disappointment when something doesn’t go as planned. Especially with children. Things take time. Usually more time than you think. Be patient and know that if you continue to do what is right you will be rewarded.

Next time you want to get upset that your stepchild didn’t give you a Mother’s Day card, or refused to eat the dinner you made, or wear an outfit you bought, or whatever the situation–don’t. Set high expectations for your relationship to flourish (I have a great relationship with my stepmother now that I am grown, that is always improving) but don’t put a time limit on it. These things take time. Don’t let the delay disappoint you.