Expectations

If you're a regular here you might remember that in May I mentioned an exciting development in our family—that we were going to become grandparents this year.(See here.)

Well the day has come: on Wednesday our first grandchild was born, a granddaughter! With our hearts partly in Australia, it's been tricky at times to concentrate on the things in front of us. In the age of instant communication, it was pretty easy to stay in touch with our son as he walked through the day with his wife as things progressed. Though I think the expectation of instant communication can easily make you impatient, and I can't say I was the most patient of expectant grandparents!

It's surreal because we can only look at photos and talk with them, but I guess that's a lot better than people in the past! I've heard stories of people getting a telegram months after such an event! But, nonetheless, we're getting a tiny taste of what my parents dealt with then they became grandparents. I've said previously that leaving Australia for Japan the first time in 2000 was one of the hardest experience I've ever had: we took my parents' only grandchild with us and saying goodbye was heartrending. Then, in Japan, we had our second child a couple of years later, their second grandchild, and they didn't get to meet him for several months. And, of course, most of the last 25 years our parents haven't been able to see our kids regularly.

So now, our son, who made us parents and my parents grandparents, has made us grandparents and my parents great-grandparents! A momentous week indeed.

We get to fly to Australia in less than two weeks to meet our granddaughter and spend Christmas with all our kids. That's going to be really precious, and I'm going to try to dwell on that, because it's easy for me to let the inevitable goodbye at the end of that time to colour the time we get to spend with them all.

But I've also got a difficult decision (wink!). I made cross-stitch birth gifts for almost all my nieces and nephews (here's a blog post about one I completed in 2010). Will I continue the tradition for my grandchildren? I'm not a knitter or crocheter. I've done a lot of cross-stitch in the last 27 years, but I consider myself semi-retired from cross-stitch because it's getting much harder as my eyes age. I have a really nice magnifying/light in Australia, but couldn't fit it in my luggage to bring to Japan. I guess I could try a larger count Aida cloth and a simple pattern? I'll have to think about it...I do have some nice patterns on my shelves. We'll see.

Expectations

Expectations play a big part in how we experience life.

One example is weather. We had a dinner party on Saturday night with three American friends. They all come from a cold part of the US. One of them experienced his first Tokyo winter earlier this year and he didn't feel it was cold enough! In contrast I had an online meeting last week with a young Filipino lady who visited Japan for a month early this year. I asked her how the cold weather was for her! She didn't come with any winter clothes (she didn't own any)! Thankfully she was able to get some here. She also saw snow for the first time and was amazed. Tokyo's winter was well and truly cold enough for her!

The contrasts in the above two stories aren't with who these people are, but the differences were their expectations which were shaped by life experiences.

Likewise, our 19 years of experience with Tokyo summers have led us to expect that the weather will cool down in early September—but this year it didn't, not until the 22nd! My expectations, sadly, made me unsettled and unhappy as I waited for the weather to change.

So why have expectations come to mind to write about today? Because as we've come into this new chapter of our lives I realise that I've held various expectations, and worse, imagined that other people had expectations of us. I don't think I've been living up to my expectations and certainly feel as though I fall short of what I imagine others expect of me.

Interestingly, as I've thought about this today I've had two sides to the "coin" brought to my attention:

Side 1: You're robbing God

Over lunch I listened to the sermon that was presented at our home church in Australia. It was on Malachi 3:3-12, entitled "Robbing God". It looked at how the Israelites were not giving God what was owed to him (the tithes and offerings he had told them to bring). In short, the application to us today was–are we robbing God by not generously giving. This isn't just in money, but in time and capacity. How can I serve God? Is my life a testimony to his goodness? 

Romans 12:1 "Therefore, I urge you, brothers and sisters, in view of God’s mercy, to offer your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and pleasing to God – this is your true and proper worship."

Many sermons and books and other things we say to one another are along this line: you're not good enough, you're not trying hard enough, you're not committed enough. My tendency towards rule keeping and wanting not to disappoint others (first born child?!) means I often end up beating myself up on this front.

Side 2: God's grace

This morning I read an article by a missionary in Japan. She wrote: "I regularly wrestle with wondering if God is disappointed in me." So do I! The article she wrote is here and is about the time when in a small Bible study with a couple of Japanese believers, she saw a different side of the Parable of the Workers that Jesus told (in Matthew 20:1-16). It's a story that showcases God's generosity, but also challenges our right to question God's choices. She was impressed that God's grace is not connected with our capacity to serve him, that God loves us and accepts us anyway.

My thoughts go to other places in the Bible that say similar things like:

Isaiah 40 where we're told God knows how frail we are and that our faithfulness doesn't endure (vs 6-8), and yet he holds us close like a shepherd holds a lamb to his chest (vs 11).

Mauve dancing ladies ginger, 
spotted in Geelong Botanical
Gardens in May. Isaiah 40
compares us to flowers that fall.
It's good to remember!

Psalm 103:13-14 Which talks about how God has compassion on us because he remembers we are "made of dust".

Psalm 139 which tells us that God knows even our secret thoughts and he knew us before we were born, he created us just as he wanted us to be, yet he also never leaves us, he always guides us and "holds us fast".

1 Corinthians 1:26-29 where it talks about how God chose (to be his disciples) the foolish, weak, low, and despised.

What are God's expectations of us? And, which of these two sides should we choose? Well, I say we need to choose both. Because, like many things, they are both true. It's not a black and white situation, though my small mind wants to make it so.

I both need to strive to obey God and do my best to offer my best to him, but I also need to rest in his grace, to know that he accepts me even when I don't meet my own (or my perception of others') expectations. My own bent is to be very hard on myself, so I probably need to lean towards the second side of the coin to counterbalance the "being good to earn God's approval" mentality that I so easily slip into.

How about you? Which of these is easier for you? How do you keep a balanced attitude to your expectations of yourself?

Sprinting long-term

Saying "no" and admitting I need to rest: these things are sometimes easy for me, but sometimes I really struggle to tell them to others. 

I can't believe that just this morning I struggled to admit in an email to colleagues that I needed schedule some rest time on the weekend (our usual time-off as we don't work in a church). It was in relation to drawing boundaries about how much time I could interact with one of them in my house.

I also struggled with the pull on Saturday, on the way home from the athletics meet, to socialise vs not socialise. The trains I took home from the track meet also held friends who I could have travelled with, but I deliberately rode on my own. I wasn't snubbing them, but I was so tired I just didn't feel up to talking for 1 ½ hrs on the trains. However I couldn't tell them to their faces that I didn't want to travel with them, instead I deviously avoided them and hid in the crowds.

All these things are hard for me, at times:

• first recognising that I need to pull back,
• deciding what to say no to,
• actually doing it,

and, when necessary,

• telling people that I have to do it.

Perhaps I'm better than some at this, but I still don't find it easy. I'm someone who has a pretty high capacity for work or at least can get a lot done in less time than other people. But because I live life pretty intensely, I need to schedule in a fair bit of down-time. Or at least it feels like a lot. I often question if it is too much, but then when I ignore my inner voice and push too hard, I find myself really worn out or even sick and unable to fulfil my responsibilities to my family.

I'm much more of a sprinter in this life, and I'm married to a long-distance "runner" who frequently has much more endurance than me, but moves at a slower pace. My lifelong challenge is, how can I sprint, yet stay the long course?

From Saturday, the next fortnight is very full and I know I'll be exhausted, come the 30th of April. Add to that the knowledge that during those two weeks I'll be almost unable to get to my computer for any length of time, so before Saturday I'm trying to get ahead on my editing and other desk-work. Yes, I'm feeling the pressure. Thankfully this week is very light on outside commitments, so I'm working hard and and intensely.

But if you see me, do ask me if I'm taking time to relax!

My Mother's Day

We kept Mother's Day very simple here. No presents (for me, we sent presents to our mums in Australia), just a ride to a fancy coffee shop for morning tea after church.

I've tended to keep my expectations low in recent years. Not because my family doesn't love me, but because, well, unmet expectations just leads to disappointment. I found a more positive way of looking at Mother's Day (and my birthday) in this article I saw on FB yesterday. 

It talks about how Mother's Day shouldn't be a day when we expect to be compensated for all the sacrificing we do all the other days of the year, it's not a day for payback. "If our identity is tied to how well we're appreciated, we're setting ourselves up for disappointment."

If our identity is bound up with our to-do list, then appreciation will help for a bit, but not in the long run. Our identity is more stable if we remember it's not about who we are and what we do, but about who Jesus is. It's easier to have an incredible Mother's Day if we "stand in awe of the One who made [us] a mother." 

So today I've just been simply grateful for the blessings I've been given. 

I know that many desire to be a mother, but aren't able. I'm thankful I have kids, even though that too is often a painful, difficult job. 

I know that many have had kids that they no longer have the privilege of still having with them today (be they not on this earth any more, or they've lost contact with their kids for whatever reason etc.). I'm thankful my kids are all living and here with me for now. Next year I won't have all my kids at home anymore, one will be in Australia, Lord willing.

I know that many, many are missing their own mums today. While my own mum is now with me today, she is still alive and I'm looking forward to seeing her in just nine days!

But most of all I'm thankful that God is faithful (and this is the third main point of the article I've linked to above), he is faithful in providing me with the energy and wisdom each day to be a mum to these intelligent, active, not-perfect boys. He's kept me (and them) alive thus far. He's given me a husband to help me be the best mum I can be and he's also still with me. And, even—God's with me every day. 

So it doesn't matter that there was grumbling about the length of the ride to the coffee shop. That there were complaints about how little food we got for our money (fancy coffee shop!). It doesn't matter that I did most of the chores I usually do. I had a good Mother's Day and it didn't depend on the people I share my life with.