First Sunday in November

There's a prayer I like to read each day during November. While reading it aloud a year or two ago, a friend of mine remarked on a line that offers thanks for the "failures and disappointments" we encounter. "I'm not there yet," she said. Yeah, me neither. But I get the nagging feeling I probably ought to work at getting "there.'


Neither disappointment nor failure conjures up feelings of thankfulness within me. And, if it's okay with you, I'd like to take this week to explore them. Why? Well, if you're like me, you're looking at those two words and not seeing a lot of gratefulness. (And if you're not like me…well, you can always get started on Christmas shopping). Plus, if I truly believe that God can redeem anything, I suppose I should even be thankful for the closed doors and the life that hasn't turned out like I planned.


Tied up with the feeling of disappointment are expectations, which always get me in trouble. If I'm really expecting the new Connie Willis book for Christmas but don't see it after every present has been opened, then I'm going to be disappointed. Now I'm not at the point of saying at the close of the day, "Oh thank you God that I did not get that book," but I can see not being all upset about things. There's always next year.


But while expectations play a part, sometimes the expectations are more hope than anticipation. Such as, I had hoped that after finishing my undergraduate and seminary degrees my life would be different. I thought that this awful feeling of wandering around lost would finally dissipate. I believed that my life would have a sense of purpose, and I'd rise up every morning to pursue a calling rather than drag myself into the cold to go to a job. I hoped my life after these experiences would not be like my life before them.


So when I look around in my work day and see the same surroundings I did before or when the past few years of my life seem like an interesting diversion that, like a ride on the midway, has come to an end, I feel disappointed. In fact, my disappointment threatens—more than I'll ever actually admit—to turn into despair. And I've no idea how to say thank you for such a god-awful feeling.


Yet, for some reason, I still feel that maybe I should be thankful for what I feel. I don't mean should because of some obligation, but because of me and, more importantly, my relationship with the Divine. Maybe saying thank you for the times when things didn't turn out as expected or hoped for is just a way of acknowledging that I don't know everything, particularly how my life is supposed to turn out.


Or maybe it's just a way of saying I love you to a friend who's stuck close when the path did not lead where perhaps either of us was expecting to go.


My friend, my companion thank you for not abandoning me even if things did not turn out as we'd planned.