His
body language was tense and he looked at me through narrowed, angry eyes. “You
expect too much from life; and if you don’t change you are going to end up
disappointed and bitter, I guarantee it! You have something good right in front
of you and you despise it because it isn’t wrapped to your specifications and
delivered to your satisfaction. What you want doesn’t exist!”
His
words were filled with incredulous anger and frustration. Perhaps it had been a
speech he had said too many times and he was frustrated at the frequency with
which he had to speak it. I felt bad for him because there was an edge in his
voice, as though he had never been anyone’s choice—as though he had presented
himself countless times and, with each offering, he was despised and dismissed.
I am speculating of course, but the edge was undeniable. No doubt he was weary
and was going to give up.
But
as I walked away, his words echoed in my ears. I wanted to dismiss them, but he
made me wonder about this titanium wall that stood guard, and these sentries
that remained vigilant and unmoved. Did I expect too much? At what point is an
expectation unreasonable? At what point is what you expect too great for the
Powers-That-Be to perform? Was I over-spiritualizing the process and dismissing
potential partners? Yet, I can’t ignore that for the sake of potential we
sometimes kill common sense.
I
am reminded of when I walked along the beach of the Mediterranean Sea, and some
ways away from the water was a hill covered in seashells. The shells were the
same in color but each had distinct markings. They felt equally smooth. Some
were small, others medium and large; they varied in size and shape. There were
thousands of them. But I sought a perfect one, one that, just by looking at it,
I would declare it perfect. But I didn’t find it because we had to leave, and I
had to settle for the ones I picked. I was happy with the ones I picked, but if
I had made it to the beach a little earlier, had more time; certainly I would
have found what I was looking for.
Truthfully, I arrived on that beach seeking
peculiar shells, something unusual, rare, unfamiliar, and strange. Instead, the
beach was full of clamshells. But I now
realize something: the tide is always pushing out new seashells out of the sea.
There’ll never be a shortage of strange, unusual, and rare. There aren’t
perfect seashells, just as there aren’t any perfect human beings.
But
high expectations are necessary. One must not willfully participate in building
sandcastles that easily get washed away. Nor be coerced into settling for mediocrity--in oneself or others.
Am
I setting myself up for disappointment and bitterness? I don’t believe so. There
isn’t room for reindeer games on the road to Kingdom purpose. And should I not
get what I am looking for, I will be convinced that it doesn’t exist here.
And
I can live with that.
