It’s hard not to stumble over a pile of expectations when you’re getting ready to leave on a trip like this. The floor is covered with them along with last minute items to pack (un-pack and re-pack again). You have to step over them, re-examine them and debate over them like a pair of optional shoes: “Do I reeeeally need these?”

Joyce, our travel partner, will be here in 30 minutes or so, and we’re ready. Brenda has done her usual amazing job at preparing us for travel. I’ve got that mild nervous stomach that makes you think you might have to go to the bathroom (when you don’t) and I’m mentally bracing for airport existence and over 9 hours in the air in one go.

First world problems for sure.

Those pesky expectations, though. I’m pretty sure some of them have stowed away:

“God and I will connect in new and deeply meaningful ways.”

“There will be no travel glitches.”

“Brenda and I will partner with grace and beauty.”

Not terribly exotic or openly selfish are they? They’re not unreasonable. Pretty “grown-up” as far as expectations go. I shouldn’t feel too bad about smuggling these few modest little hitchhikers in my carry-on, should I?

Well, the problem with expectations is right in the definition…or in the the synonym, I should say. It’s just another way to say “entitlement”. Something I’m owed. Something I have earned; I deserve, something that should be assumed…a given…an expectation.

These things are surprisingly heavy for their size…I better go through my luggage again.