expectations.

 {photo by Christinne Muschi for Reuters, found here}

I love to take quizzes. You know, those quizzes and surveys that get stuck in the back of magazines or sneak up on you when you’re searching the internet. I’ve pored over my Myer-Briggs results (I’m an INTJ, and, guess what, so is C.S. Lewis, so… score!) and discovered what house I belong to in Hogwarts. I’ve learned what color looks best on me and which decorating style matches my personality. Some results I agree with (there is no doubting my Myers-Briggs profile), and others I think are pure bunk.

Back in high school, I took a quiz — I don’t even remember where I found it, nor do I remember the premise behind its questions — and the results were positively eerie. So eerie that I printed them out and stapled them to the back of my bedroom door. Ten years later, there they still are, reminding me of who I was at 16, and, really, who I still am at 25. I wish I knew where I took this quiz, who wrote it, or who published it, because it describes me perfectly.

You are a mix of a reliant and a dreamer. Your friends can count on you, especially when they need a favor. You always stand your ground. They appreciate you for that, and they welcome your consistency of character. You’re disappointed when you don’t get the same reliability in return.

You want meaning out of life. People are important to you. Your relationships can make or break your day. Your friends are amazed at how well your intuition works for you. You demand no less than truth and justice.

It’s that last line of the first paragraph that’s always stuck with me, because it’s so very true. I hate to admit it, but there it is.

Last Sunday, the minister at our congregation greeted parishioners by saying, “I hope you came in with high expectations today!”

And I wondered to myself if I really had.

I’ve always been a high expectations person. Vacations, theme parks, life events, friendships: I have high expectations for all of the above. Often, as a result, I become disappointed. Vacations don’t go well. My favorite rides are broken. The first week of college is hard. Friends let me down.

My standards aren’t met, and it’s like a slap in the face.

But — as I suspect is the case with most high expectation people — I bounce back. I take more vacations, find new friends. I learn some lessons the hard way, sure, but I keep hoping; my standards remain high.

Lately, though, I’ve noticed that things are changing. It’s like I hit my limit for disappointment, and somewhere, deep down, I decided to become a low expectations person instead.

Low expectations people aren’t often disappointed because they’re too busy being pleasantly surprised. They thought vacation was going to be miserable, but, hey! It’s not! They thought their friend was going to cancel on their dinner party, but hey! They didn’t!

Their standards are lower, so there’s less cause for disappointment.

And even though I firmly believe the world probably needs both kinds of people, I’m discovering that I don’t like who I am when my expectations are low.

I’ve noticed — in tiny ways, perhaps (I hope), unnoticeable to the people around me — that I’m becoming more jaded, kind of bitter.

When I went into church last Sunday, and my minister greeted us in such an unusual way, it hit me: I hadn’t come in expecting much.

Sure, I wound up being surprised. The sermon was challenging, the singing was lovely, and we met some dear friends for lunch. It was a good day.

But I wish my expectations had been higher.

Because here’s the thing about having high expectations: Sometimes, they’re met. And when that happens, it’s like the world is as it should be. It reminds us that the dreams we have for ourselves and others can be achieved, and adventures are ready for the taking.

When they’re not met, though, there’s still — and I think this is key — a hope, deep down, maybe buried under a few layers, that one day, the expectations we set will be met. There’s an end goal, a calling and a desire for more.

And despite the occasional disappointment, I don’t want to lose that.

I want to be full of joyful expectation.

I want to be prepared to be surprised.

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“Don't burn out; keep yourselves fueled and aflame. Be alert servants of the Master, cheerfully expectant.
Don't quit in hard times; pray all the harder.”

- Romans 12:11-12, The Message