Expectations

For the past twelve very long weeks, my Fridays have been spent with blood draws, chemotherapy infusions, and monitoring, followed by a four-hour drive home from Houston on curvy, hilly, two lane roads. But not this week. This past Friday morning I woke up in my own bed, drank my coffee, walked three miles in our woods, and did a little housework before Madison and I rode to Shreveport to do a grocery pick-up, stop at Starbucks, and get some cookies we had ordered. It was a glorious day! But by the afternoon, I was totally exhausted. And frustrated and disappointed and angry. I had the expectation that since I wasn’t having chemo, my body would immediately bounce back to my pre-cancer energy levels. One week without chemo and I would be my old self—able to work in the yard, clean house top to bottom, cook supper, do a few art projects, and leap tall buildings with a single bound, all before washing the supper dishes! 

I knew how I would feel after a chemotherapy infusion—I had lived through the day after chemo 16 times so I knew what to expect—but this was my first experience of how I should feel a week after chemotherapy was complete, and my expectations were totally unrealistic. I’m sure if I had bothered to ask, my oncologist would have chuckled when he told me “No, I wouldn’t have my pre-cancer energy level back eight days after chemotherapy ended.” My knowledge was incomplete and my logic downright faulty. If I had listened to the experts (or Gary) instead of relying on my own thoughts and understanding, I could have saved myself a bit of frustration and anxiety on a Friday evening.

Having expectations isn’t wrong; it’s the way we bring order to our world. We expect the sun to come up in the east and go down in the west. We expect a brownie to taste sweet and chocolaty and rich. The more we know about a situation or thing, the more accurate our expectations can be. As we move through our days, most of our expectations are met and life goes on. But sometimes our understanding of the situation is faulty and our expectations are unrealistic. And those unrealistic expectations can cause a lot of grief for us and for those around us. 

I know I can’t always count on my own understanding. Because of that, one of the scriptures that I repeat often is Proverbs 3:5-6 “Trust in the LORD with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways acknowledge Him and He will make your paths straight.” In my Bible it is highlighted in pink, underlined, and placed in a box with stars at the corner. I have notes written all around the margins. When I follow this Scripture and listen for God’s direction, my expectations tend to be much more realistic and life flows much easier. I have much less anxiety this way. When I forget to do this, problems always seem to arise. So as I’m resting and preparing for surgery, I will adjust the sails of my expectations and allow God to be in control of my future. My understanding is limited—right now I can’t see past the wall of cancer and treatment to envision the next year or the one after that. But I know God is there and I expect He has a plan for my future that is good.