Great Expectations

I once read somewhere that disappointment grows from unrealistic expectations. 

Like the time I sat in the dirty santa circle with my fellow fifth grade classmates loftily hoping for a shiny new Hello Kitty Friends Only sticker book as I looked at the selection of wrapped gifts.  I pick the package that is sure to deliver all of my Sanrio dreams and unwrap it to find an obviously regifted/used pair of rainbow knee high socks.  How could this be?  I spent so much time picking out that brand new 48 pack of glitter pens for my gift only to get old socks?!

Skip to adult life when year after year I muster up the hope of a magical holiday season filled with It's a Wonderful Life dreams and lofty Pinteresting ideals.  Handmade ornaments, perfectly pretty wrapping, chocolate dipped confections, and family members cheerfully drinking their eggnog and counting their blessings. 

But the reality is that those ornaments don't make themselves and family members aren't perfect.  The reality is that it takes a Christmas miracle to get out the door {on time} with 2 bathed and festively clothed children, a husband, overnight bags, a pack-n-play, the all important sleep sound giraffe, the {hopefully} yummy dish you prepared, and a sleigh-worthy load of gifts that are sure to be smashed into the back of the car ruining the effort you spent to wrap them only to fight holiday traffic for an hour.  Needless to say...by the time I backed out of the driveway my Christmas cheer was nowhere to be found.

While deep breathing behind the steering wheel, I decide the only thing that will fight this early onset of Grinchism is Starbucks so I pull in and wait a painstaking 11 minutes.  I huff and puff while mentally pulling out a bazooka to blow up the cars in front of me.  How long does it take to make coffee, for goodness sake?!

Holiday spirit at its finest.

But somewhere between the barista and Jackson Street I found my inner elf.  Because it's just as much my job to bring the joy as it is everyone else's.  Christmas is about the birth of the one who died for our selfish selves.  The self that selfishly expected a Hello Kitty sticker book.  The self that would have {imaginarily...is that a word?}killed to get her coffee a few minutes faster.  The self that expects everyone to be as perfect as she is in tough family situations.  The self that greedily wants her holiday to be magazine worthy without having to do the work.

Maybe my disappointment comes from an inner knowing that nothing I do or give or receive could ever measure up to the gift He gave.  Maybe my disappointment comes from expecting joy from gifts or from people.  But the truth is that there is no amount of tinsel, chocolate or wrapping paper that will compare to the Greatest Expectation that will never disappoint...the One who came.  He was one of us.  He died for us.  There is no jolly-old-pointy eared-sugar-plum-reindeer-jingle bell substitute. They will all disappoint. There is only one I Am. And my job is to love the way that he loves.  Period.