When Life is a Cluster

Lessons in hope and disappointment

One of the consistent questions I get asked on Mentor Monday is, “How do I deal with disappointment?” I did a poll on Instagram this week when I hosted my usual Ask Me Anything, and 97% of people wanted me to write more about this topic. Honestly? I’m good at this one, so I think I can write to you as a seasoned risk taker and hell-on-earth survivor who does not live in perpetual disappointment.

First, let me level with you: I swim in the deep end of low expectations. I believe the best in people, and my outlook on life is generally positive but realistic. My time in recovery (and my personal experiences) taught me that anyone could do anything at any time. Brokenness is part of our humanity. We hurt each other, and we need grace. This will always be true.

With that in mind, a house slogan at the Abercrombie casa is “We are only one decision away from stupid.” That doesn’t make me afraid - it keeps me honest. Not being so doggone surprised every time I, or someone I love or admire, lets me down is key to my sobriety.

Unfortunately, I’ve never met anyone as surprised as a Christian who is disappointed. I think that’s because too many of us are discipled to believe that if we are a good Christian, bad things won’t happen to us; if we’re good people, people will be good to us. That leads to a sense that we can reach some utopia where there are no issues, problems, or pain.

So, instead of connecting in conflict and resolving issues, we become avoiders and pretenders. Tension and conflict are not accepted as a regular rhythm in relationships and growth. I’ve observed that people are not allowed to change, express, or learn across the spectrum of beliefs without a significant amount of correction, commentary, and control. 

Implicitly and consistently, the church communicates that broken people are welcome, but only perfect people can stay. 

How frustrating and impossible. We’re human. Yes, we are smart, sharp, beautiful, and sometimes big old dum dums. We also have no control over anybody. No matter how hard we try, we can’t change people or fix them. People heal us to the center of our bones and tear our lives and hearts apart. It’s a conundrum. 

Not to mention adulthood is the worst hood, and those little faith formulas don’t be working like preacher man say they will. Nobody preaches from this passage:

I realized another thing, that in this world fast runners do not always win the races, and the brave do not always win the battles. The wise do not always earn a living, intelligent people do not always get rich, and capable people do not always rise to high positions. Bad luck happens to everyone.¹

(Well, I have preached from this passage, but it’s not exactly popular.) But it should comfort us to know that we can do everything RIGHT and have everything go WRONG because that’s life. And sometimes we can do everything WRONG and have everything work out RIGHT because that’s life. 

Either way, there’s grace. 

Living well requires us to adjust our expectations. Some of the best advice I received as a mother came from another mother of three babies after dinner at her house: Lower your expectations. Just take it down a notch, sister. 

When I decided to get sober, that was my first major decision: Accept that I would never be perfect no matter how hard I tried. Acceptance led to gentleness, gentleness led to honesty, and honesty led to integrity. It became my highest value. Integrity over image. Wholeness over perfection. I realized that it is possible to stay sane and sober even when I don’t like my circumstances. I learned that the fruit of the Holy Spirit (love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, gentleness, faithfulness, and self-control) is alive in my life whether I am poor or rich, happy or sad, bad luck or good luck, surrounded or alone. 

Disappointment is a huge part of life, and we don’t talk about it enough. You are not alone.

Here are just a handful of disappointments people shared with me anonymously this week in the DM’s:

• A friend is using me for my network and relationships, and it hurts.

• I’m not sure I’ll ever have children.

• My marriage is falling apart, and I can’t seem to fix it.

• My boss never listens to me at work - it makes me feel incompetent and disoriented.

• I’m exhausted and lonely from parenting in a pandemic.

• If I tell my parents the truth about who I am, I’m afraid they won’t accept me.

• The doctor diagnosed me with an autoimmune disease - I’m so sad.

We’re all dealing with something. I’m disappointed that we moved back to Cali two weeks before Covid hit and never really hit our stride, especially in community. I struggle with my limited capacity, but I’ve decided to lean into my job, family, and love for this right here, for you. I’m taking risks that look like less, trusting that it will produce more in me. Not more stuff, but more hope, generosity, loving kindness, and grace. 

Every time I let it, disappointment leads me to hope. 

I want that for you, too. It ain’t over ‘til it’s over. You may be facing minor letdowns or massive what-tha-heck-God-are-you-serious letdowns. Here’s your reminder that hope is here now, enduring like it always does, lifting your head, and carrying you forward. It’s a good anchor in the desire to drift. Hope holds, and the grace of God holds, too. 

You are loved, and I’m so grateful for you. Glad you’re here.

A four-step practice for later, if you need it:

If you can, carve out twenty minutes in a comfy spot.

1. Reflect: In this disappointment, what did I hope for? What did I expect? What do I wish had happened?

2. Name the reality: What happened? How did it hurt? What did it hinder?

3. Affirm yourself: My hope is not in the circumstances. Other people do not have to steal my joy. I am not stuck - there are still choices. I have survived before. I will survive again. This hurts. And it feels hard. Maybe even impossible. But I am not alone. I can do this. I have what it takes.

4. Decide to connect: Who can you share your disappointment with that can hold it and affirm you? What decisions would you like to make now in light of this disappointment? What do you need? Who can help? Deep belly breaths. It’s okay not to be okay. Someday, it will be okay. You are loved and held, connected and significant, worthy of being heard and cared for in your pain. 

1. Ecclesiastes 9:11