Anticipation

I am re-learning how to anticipate. That may sound weird but after the last two years where I marinated in disappointment, anticipation has not come easy to me. To anticipate means to look forward, to expect, to respond to something beforehand. Typically, it is viewed as mostly positive and even relates to the word hope. It is a verb, which implies explicit action…and this is where I am getting hung up. I am finding it challenging to act in anticipation. 

Sure, I could list all the reasons why the Covid years were hard, but your list is likely comparable to mine. We all knew a unique form of disappointment and disillusionment during the pandemic. As we take strides out though, I find myself more aware of the consequences and questions in the aftermath. The things that became ingrained in our hearts and heads for two years do not merely wash away in our reintroduction to normal. Maybe it is because so much of it was beaten, berated, and bullied into us or maybe it has more to do with our own temperaments, our own fears, and our own beliefs? Either way, I have noticed moments where I have paused and doubted what used to be normal. I have hesitated to embrace forward movement in fear that I will be whiplashed back into the muck. I have struggled to anticipate the good. 

For me, it is not all pandemic-related. I have been walking varying paths of disappointment lately. Some of those paths are too personal to name in the here and now. Others are more minor, but when the small stacks up and builds a barricade, even the surface stuff feels bigger than it should. The vacation that is no longer possible, the closed registration on the kid’s camp, the insurance-rejected medical bill, the discontinuation of my favorite canned coffee drink, the extra expenses related to my book, the cancellation of royalties on a class I created, etc. Little blows that stack on top of deep disappointment begin to look like the only future available. 

It is also not all related to me. I feel things deeply, which is both a blessing and a hardship. I have friends struggling for their very lives, fighting cancerous beasts that want to claim their daily happiness. I have friends unable to find safe and affordable housing. There are individuals in my church that are suffocating through chemo, surgery, displacement, divorce, and intense mental health battles. I have family members that have been so hurt by the distant world that they doubt the intimate and close God. These realities are hard to swallow, hard to hear, and hard to always invoke hope into. 

It is hard to hope in times like these. I get it. I feel it. I see it. 

So I sit with my prayer journal and I name what is happening. Might as well openly admit to the One who already knows, “God, I am disappointed in my circumstances and in my response. I am struggling to anticipate anything good because I have lived in the recurring pattern of anticipating only to be let down, to be left disappointed.”

He hears me and He hears you. And He understands us so well. 

I think I am in a learning season, too. Learning to sit long enough in the pain to name it and then release it. If I refuse to feel, to emotionally connect, then I will numbly limp through life with baggage so deeply rooted in bitterness and brokenness. Sweeping away or hiding today’s realities is a temporary solution. There will be no long-term benefit to denying the here and now; it will resurface and bear its ugly head when you least expect it. 

So, my response is to sit in the disappointment long enough to name it and then release it. Possibly, this is a new response option for you, too. Be mindful to not live in it, marinate in it, or make yourself a name tag out of it. You do not have to roll over and die in your circumstances, no matter how debilitating they may be. You should, however, recognize that this hurts, shakes you, and bruises you. In that declaration, you can then release that pain to the One who knows you and loves you. 

I want to be at a place where I can anticipate life again without second-guessing. After all, there is a lot to happily anticipate. For me, I am anticipating the return of my family from the mission field. After three long years across the world, they will be in our arms in three weeks! I am anticipating the end of the school year for my children and the long summer days making memories before they are too old. I am anticipating the publication of my very first book in a few months! I am anticipating celebrating my sixteenth wedding anniversary with the very best human being. There is a lot to look toward, to hope for, to believe in. Sure, all these aforementioned anticipations have already come with their own doses of disappointments but if I name them and then release them, I believe I can learn to embrace the good again. 

If you, too, are struggling to anticipate, to look forward, to expect good things, or to release disappointment, adopt this prayer:

God, my Father, the One who knows me:

  • I am disappointed in this circumstance, this person, this response. (Name the specifics.)

  • I feel hurt, forgotten, beaten, conflicted, confused, etc. in his situation. 

  • I release these feelings to You, the One who promises to be close to the brokenhearted, the One who forgives all things, the One who can redeem anyone and anything. Take my fear, my doubts, my disappointment.

  • Fill me with Your grace, comfort, and peace. I can walk this journey with You as You go before me, beside me, and behind me.

  • Help me to anticipate the positive, to look forward with hope that all things will work out for Your glory and my eternal good. When I am inclined to expect the worst, refocus my gaze on Your faithfulness and on all that You have blessed me with.

  • I praise You God because You are consistently present in all the ups and downs in my life and in the lives of my family and friends. Even in my lack or in my sin, You love me enough to pull me forward, to grow me, to teach me to anticipate what is true, honorable, just, pure, lovely, and commendable (Philippians 4:8). 

    Amen.


Until next time, 

 
 
 
 
Previous
Previous

Words are a Start

Next
Next

When a Mother Cries