Great Expectations

Kind of a downer weekend, on several fronts.

My wife said this afternoon that today's church meetings made her feel in adequate.

"Hmmm. Sorry to hear that. But doesn't that mean that they were at least partially successful?"

She (understandably) didn't seem to want to hear that from me at first, but eventually acknowledged that, notwithstanding "that they might have joy," the whole point is more or less to:
a) underscore the gap between what we are and what we're supposed to be or become;
b) teach us how to bridge that gap; and,
c) help us believe that we can and should bridge it. (And then to get about bridging.)

Yesterday I attended commencement for one of my sisters, who went back to school to get a master's degree. Her degree is in a field in which I also have one, which helped turn the event for a walk down memory lane.

As I watched the proceedings, I found myself bristling at the enthusiasm and anticipation flowing from the stage. I sighed condescendingly at what I imagined would be a rude awakening when many of the graduates hit the cold, hard realities of the work force. I bounced my life's path-to-date against that of my sister and--sparing you some detail here--thought it somewhat ironic that for most of her life, she didn't think she would amount to much yet she's now poised to do some good things. By contrast, the first two-plus decades of my life were characterized by great expectations (both by myself and those closest to me), all of which has degenerated into a general sense of meaninglessness, especially professionally. I told a friend recently, "I'm semi-peacefully coming to terms with the idea that, contrary to what I'd long-believed/hoped/prepared for, my career and, in many ways, my life will not matter to anyone other than my immediate circle of family and closest friends." It's a sentiment that I used to reject with fear and defiance, but now consider with somber quasi-resignation.