Weighted Expectations

I didn’t post on Wednesday – my regularly scheduled slot – because I had nothing in me. I had no juice left, and I couldn’t think of a single thing to write. I didn’t want to write something worthless just to fill the void. It wastes your time as a reader and I have little enough time, myself.

Truthfully, I’m not even sure of my blog audience anymore. (Can I admit that on a blog without your immediately washing your hands of me?) I have plenty of page views so something is working. Many come for the recipes, though I’m not a true food blogger. Some fewer come for French tourism. There is less of that since I’m not a travel blog – although, do stay tuned for some upcoming posts on Dordogne and the prehistoric caves of Lascaux, and perhaps Milan. Even fewer come for my posts on faith. And I think there’s enough lingering affection out there from longtime subscribers, who come just for me. And that’s all I ever wanted to be in this online space after all – me.

This is why I couldn’t pick just one blogging niche even if it would have given me more reach and ad revenue. This is also why I don’t write in just one genres of books. I don’t have as far of a reach, it’s true. My monthly income from book sales and advertising will not pay our mortgage. And though I’m constantly working to be more savvy and to earn an income from writing, my first motivation for writing remains “because I want to”.

Which brings me to weighted expectations. I’ve managed to skid into a season of burnout after my latest book release. After some reflection, I’ve discerned that this is not unusual in the spring. There are more trips, concerts, and parties, more things to do, the season is changing, I have allergies and am tired. I’ve given my all for the recent holidays and put my energy in the fresh start to the year. I’ve not yet recuperated in the summer frolic. And this season, in particular, I put out four books in a six-month stretch (more of a coincidence than a goal), and it took more out of me than I expected.

So on Wednesday, I sat there in my chair, reading the Bible, praying and meditating. Wondering what I would write about that day on the blog and realising that the answer was… nothing. Below is what I wrote in my journal that day (modified to insert some semblance of comprehension).

God, I feel like I’m hanging on to a branch over the abyss. What awaits me below – this abyss – represents letting go of all claim to the world. I give up the expectation of health and a functioning body, even a functioning mind as I get older. I give up a career that means something. I give up all the material possessions, somehow so numerous I have little space for them. I give up being someone important. I give up a vibrant, beautiful face and body. I give up doing what I want to do and do what you want me to do.

(Somehow, voicing this surrender was necessary for me to gain clarity in this period of burnout).

The branch? It represents the expectations. Contrary to what I must surrender, I dream of being an example. I have this expectation that being your shining light in the world will only happen if I’m growing old gracefully and not in lumpy fits and starts as I seem to be doing now. I imagine that my home is in order and that my kids are all following you. I imagine that what I write bears fruit – that people love my stories and that I earn an income from them. I imagine a moderate degree of success and order, that our garden will be a feast for the eyes and that I’ll have time to meet people for lunch, to tour museums – that I’ll be leaving behind a financial legacy for our children.  

The branch represents all these things. It’s the weighted expectation of my life’s meaning as I hang over the abyss. And when I see how far I am from reaching my expectations, the branch bends even further.

No, the abyss is not dark. God is not dark. It’s more like a chasm in the rock – a cliff that’s covered with grass and shrubs, but one that goes a long way own. It’s friendly looking, but I know I’ll never survive it.

I want to continue to live exactly as I please, which means in a professional sense to write exactly what I want, whether it’s tales of faith or love stories. And somehow I want my house to be clean while I do it. On the other hand, I feel as if I’m about to fall any minute from this branch – fall from the sheer weight of the expectations I have of myself and for this life. I want to do everything and have everything. I want it all. I don’t want to settle for an end (that seems to await us all in old age) where we’re no longer useful on this earth and it’s time to move on. I don’t want to give up on what I deem to be a full life.

But then nothing is fun anymore because I am so driven.

So maybe the abyss is not God after all. Maybe it’s the desires – and even the greed – of this world. If I want to escape it, I’m going to have to let go. I’m going to have to surrender my expectations. God is going to have to pull me up from this branch and have me sit in the nearby meadow where it’s sunny with blue skies. There are sheep, of course, meandering like me. And I have nothing to do but drink cool water, rest in the shade, and contemplate the vista around me.

There have been some professional disappointments, which have led to the burnout; and there have been some challenges, both family and personal. I often feel afraid and weak. I mostly certainly feel ineffective. Like… is life really supposed to be this way? Shouldn’t I be more on the ball? Aren’t others more on the ball?

Weak. Ineffective.

In my journal, I wrote – I have no idea how to get from the branch of expectations to the meadow. What would it look like to let go? Would that mean I accomplish nothing?

I’m reading Finding His Footprints in the Sand by Erica Kim, who spoke at our church’s annual Women’s Day. It’s a book on grace, especially written for women. Something struck me in her chapter about Rahab : God’s grace for the unloved. She quoted this scripture from Deuteronomy 32:9-11

Her words after the scripture were, “An eagle stirs up its nest so that its young will take flight. This natural procedure forces its young to literally fall out of the nest so they will learn to spread their wings and fly. However, if one of the young birds fails to fly, the eagle will not allow it to fall and die. Instead, it will dive down and catch its young in the pinions of its wings. That is how God shielded and protected the Israelites at a time when they were complaining and grumbling.”

God was there for his people when they were complaining and grumbling. He spread his wings to catch them should they fall. I’m far from all understanding this, but it seems I have my answer of how I will get from the branch of weighted expectations to the meadow of surrendered bliss.

(Click on the photo to get to the source. Note. It should read, “I bore you on eagle’s wings and brought you to myself.”)

In my journal, I wrote, God this is my prayer. Bring me to that meadow. Teach me how to live. Teach me what it’s like to follow you and not have burdensome expectations.

Teach me to let go. And show me what I must do now.

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