Cotton Candy Expectations

I like sunrises so here I am, on the Veranda, sitting in the dark with a hot cup of the Elixir of Knowledge.  It's a half-hour before sunrise according to the Weather Channel.

The Little-House-On-The-Corner is parked at N 46 Degrees latitude, (technically 45.917 and change), so the summer sunrise shows up early.  Today, it's 5:07.  That's in Daylight Savings Time.  Real Time is 4:07.  Which means it's getting light around 3:30 AM - in Real Time.

I always want a "cotton candy" sunrise.  Shining pink balls of fluff.  Bright pink swipes.  A horizon glowing pink with the promise of a new day. Yeah. Cotton candy. Orange, gold, and yellow sunrises are OK.  But I really like "cotton candy" sunrises.

I listen to the drone of mosquitoes and the fast-food call of chickadees, ("cheeez-bur-gur"), but my expectations are low.  The sky is a worn blanket of grey flannel, thread-bare in some spots, bunched and puckered in others.  Nuts.  Might as well write this morning off.  Out comes the iPhone to check emails and texts.  My head is down, my attention bent earthward by the gravitational pull of the Apple in my hand.

I glance up while taking a swig of the Elixir.   The northeast horizon has a faint line of reddish-pink that weaves through the pines.  But with this much grey?  No display today.  Nothing to see here. Move along. I go back to the iPhone.

Another swig brings my eyes up.   I stop in mid-sip.   The Eeyore-grey blanket has small bumps and lumps of glowing Piglet-pink.  The iPhone is forgotten.

Un - be - liev - a - ble.

Cotton candy spreads as clouds ignite.  Gossamer pink tendrils and clumps of pink cotton balls begin to dapple the greyness.

Wow.

A nagging thought snags my mind. I was disappointed this morning and its funk still clings to me like wet grass clippings.  There's boatloads of "cotton candy" now, but it didn’t seem possible just minutes ago..

My expectations of what was needed for a "cotton candy" sunrise labeled this morning a bust - even before the sun had a chance to shine.

I’ve missed something.  Something important.  A quick quaff of the remaining Elixir sparks a caffeinated epiphany. Oh.

My expectations of God requires Him to do the things I want in a way I would understand and approve.  But God is not a "God-In-The-Box", tied to my Checklist of Approved Methods.

No.  The Lion of Judah is not a tame lion. He is God.

So there's a difference between "expectations" and "expectancy". One I should always remember.

From now on, I'll watch the sunrise with the expectancy that it'll be perfect.  It might be pink or grey, wet or dry, clear or cloudy...but it will be exactly the way He wants it.  It's the morning He wants to give me today because it’s perfect for me.

Because He loves me.  Perfectly.

Expectation only allows God to send a ferry boat across the Red Sea. And I pace the length of the dock, anxious, fretting, and listening hard for approaching chariots.

Expectancy says it's OK. He's got this. And I rest in that thought as I feel the breeze pick up and hear the roaring birth of a miracle.

So.

I'll be back here tomorrow, sitting in the dark, sipping hot Elixir.

Waiting.

Expectantly.

And it’s gonna be perfect.