I’m showing my age here, but did anyone else try to grow a Juicy Fruit tree as a child? (If you don’t know what I’m talking about, or if you’re simply feeling nostalgic, watch the commercial.) Truth be told, I only planted half a stick. Chewing gum was a real treat in those days and I was a little too miserly to give up a whole piece! But if we went back to my childhood home I could show you exactly where I planted it. Oh, how I hoped it would grow and provide me with a limitless supply of the tasty (for 5 minutes or so) chewing gum in the yellow package! Needless to say, my chewing gum dreams failed to materialize, and gum, chewing or bubble, continued to be a rare treat rather than an everyday indulgence.

With my gum expectations dashed to the ground, I tried other ways of prolonging the occasional chewy treat. I knew better than to leave gum in my mouth when I went to bed (It only took one occurrence and an awkward haircut to learn that lesson!), but perhaps I could squeeze an extra day of pleasure out of the mucilaginous concoction. At the end of the day I returned my well-chewed wad to the wrapper, saving it for the next morning when I could pop it back into my mouth for another day of enjoyment. As you can imagine, day 2 was an utter disappointment, as the gummy wad was now hard and tasteless.

The disappointment of unmet expectations. Whether the Juicy Fruit tree that never sprouted, or the backyard divining rod that failed to lead to water (Someone besides me HAD to have tried it after watching that Gilligan’s Island episode!), or the failure to fly like Underdog (That one was my sister—not me—and resulted in a truthful rendition of All I Want for Christmas is my Two Front Teeth!), our childhoods were filled with disillusionment and disappointment. Yet somehow we all survived, learned, matured, and moved on (with some good stories to tell our grandkids someday!).

Now we’re all adults, and we’ve learned not to be disappointed when our expectations aren’t met. Right? (You’re either laughing, crying, or snorting derisively right now.)

2020 has been a year fraught with unmet expectations, has it not? We have had a decade’s worth of them crammed into just a few months. Events have been cancelled (or modified beyond recognition). Plans have been changed. Store shelves emptied. Church services suspended. A simple coffee with a friend made challenging.

The prevalence of pandemic disappointments has even served to multiply the impact of normal, “life happens” kind of letdowns. How many times have you heard someone refer to the plague of 2020 in reference to a natural life event? “My dog died.” “Well, it IS 2020!” My dog actually did die this summer, not at all related to the pandemic or 2020, but it felt all the more crushing in the midst of so many other heartaches.

Heartache. Now there’s a word. Dictionary.com defines heartache as “emotional pain or distress; sorrow; grief; anguish.” Haven’t we all experienced our share this year? “Expectation is the root of all heartache.” (This quote is of unknown origin, but often attributed to William Shakespeare.) Unmet expectations. Heartache. Disappointment. 2020 has been rife with them!

“Expectation is the root of all heartache.”

William Shakespeare (maybe)

While this year has brought heartache to many, myself included, I often feel guilty for calling my own unmet expectations “heartache.” I don’t have to look very far to find someone for whom this year has been far worse. I’ve said nothing of the heavier impacts of the pandemic—loss of life, unemployment, economic hardship, etc. Nor have I mentioned the devastation of 2020’s derechos, wildfires, and hurricanes.

I am a firm believer in counting your blessings, and being thankful in all circumstances (1 Thessalonians 5:18), but is it right or fair for me to take consolation in the fact that someone has it harder than I do? Should I feel guilty because my own disappointments are petty in comparison to others’?

That thought triggers something deep inside of me that I don’t even know how to put into words.

For the first time in a blog post I can’t sum up my thoughts into a neat, tidy application of truth tied up with a pretty red bow. Everything in me wants to delete this post and start over, but on my Welcome Page I promised you honesty and vulnerability. So here I am, warts and all, wrestling with God and the application of His truth to my introspection.

Is it simply me? Or do you struggle to know how to deal appropriately with your own heartaches and unmet expectations of 2020? I would love to hear some of your thoughts below.