Yesterday, I dropped an entire glass gallon of milk on the wood floor in our kitchen.
Miraculously it bounced top-first and landed unbroken on its side, speckling the dark wood on my kitchen floor with milky white droplets which escaped from the loosened top.
My heart played catch up as I knelt down to wipe up the drops with a wet cloth. I had envisioned milk and glass shards exploding all over my entire kitchen.
It would have been a buggar to clean up.
My dreadful expectations of broken glass and spilled milk were replaced with gratitude. I was only wiping up drops instead of massive puddles and razor sharp glass.
But, not all expectations leave us feeling so relieved. In fact, many times they leave us feeling both disappointed and angry at life, and those we love.
Expectations are rather curious creatures actually.
I picture them as cute and cuddly (but sneaky and naughty) little creatures who live in our brains and tell us stories of what our future (and our ventures) should (and will) look like. We love the stories these creatures tell and naively embrace them as stone hard truth. We then proceed to hang our hopes and dreams on them, these expectations.
And this is exactly where we go wrong.