When I was a girl my grandmother was known for being a bit “over-the-top” about Christmas. You know, she was the type to have enormous plans, preparations, and expectations for Christmas. Grandma would have ALL gifts bought by or before October. She would buy each child the exact amount of number and dollars of presents or you would get a check for the remainder. In all the love that was shown through these preparations also came a lot of stress, for her and for others. If everyone wasn’t happy or totally thrilled with what they got, well, it was just unpleasantness for all, and I genuinely hurt my grandma’s heart, because she’d been working SO hard to ensure everyone was happy and would enjoy their Christmas to the fullest.
One time she told me why Christmas, gifts and expecting complete happiness at Christmas was so valuable to her… though, I know I didn’t understand it at the time.
She was the fourth of six children and grew up during the Great Depression. They didn’t have much, new toys that were all your own weren’t something her family could afford. She told how most Christmas’ she received hand made items, newly made nightgowns and the biggest treat was a fresh orange or bit of candy.
But, on her most bitter/sweet and probably first remembered Christmas, her and her entire family went over to an extended family members house (that must have been more “well off”) and she described in great detail that there... under a sparking tree, that most likely had grown in beauty of her memory, was a trunk full to brimming with all varieties of toys, trucks, tops, toy guns, and most importantly lots and lots of dolls! There were all sorts of lovely dolls with hair and eyes that closed, ones with beautiful dresses and some that looked like new babies. She noted that one doll in particular caught her eye; it was nearly as tall as she was at age 3 or 4, had lovely blond hair and in my grandmother’s little mind looked just like herself. “It must be for me!” she thought.
Little Wilma Lee in all her wonder, expectation and excitement went racing over to that lovely doll and picked up with out thinking of anything but the expectation that it was to be her.
All the adults laughed at her childish nature… wanting the biggest and the best all to herself. Little Wilma was told she couldn’t have that doll and would have to wait to get the one that was meant for her. I am sure she was scolded by her mother or got a stern look from her quiet father. This nearly broke her little heart.
Later when the time came she was given a very lovely doll, one that she was still very happy to have and one she cherished. But, still, all those years later was the bitter memory of expectations that weren’t met… she was trying years later to make it all right for everyone else.
What a heavy burden.
I’ve always wondered why or how this memory played into her percepts of Christmas; wanting NO one to be disappointed with gifts and having too big of expectations… just like the doll that was too big and wasn’t meant to be hers, expectations aren’t meant for us either. They just weigh us down like a big dumb doll. They might thrill us for a while, but then we see that they are heavy and don’t do us any good.
Expectations aren’t really our best thing to bring to the Christmas manger. They set us up for misunderstandings, conflict and a hurt heart. The better thing to bring is expectancy. Expectancy is looking to God with a hope of His giving us what He deems best. Conversely, expectations are things we have already decided we want or need to have (or events to happen) to ensure our happiness or satisfaction in life.
Do you have a “big doll” that is weighing you down with the temptation to expect something God does not want for you?
How can you change this to a heart of expectancy?
"Don't expect too much of Christmas Day.
You can't crowd into it any areas of
unselfishness and kindliness that may
have accrued during the past twelve months."
~ Oren Arnold
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