The Dallas Cowboys are the official NFL team of the Bridge Faith Community, I’ve decided, and yesterday they barely eked out an overtime win over the hated rival New York Giants. To be honest with you, it was pretty disappointing, and as I am examining why that is, I am finding that it speaks to a reality that is far mare important than some dumb game in Texas.

Every year, I think the Cowboys will win the Super Bowl, and every year since 1995, I am wrong. This no longer ruins my year, season, month or even day, like it did when I was a teenager. They are just my favorite team. I am not a player, I have no stake in the team whatsoever. Yet, I would say I love them. [Obviously, not in the way I love my wife or any other person I actually know. I’m not an insane teenager anymore.] This is, I recognize, a ridiculous reality, but it is a reality nonetheless.

Now, let me tell you about a family beach vacation, about 10-15 years ago. One evening, we were on the boardwalk and my sister and I began to argue – I don’t remember what it was about, more than that I wanted her to say and/or do something, and she wasn’t saying or doing that thing, that way. She wanted the same from me. We had pictures in our heads of how the evening should go, and when they didn’t, we were frustrated and angry.

(If you have a sibling, you know the kind of ‘frustrated and angry’ I’m talking about. There is a certain safety in screaming out of frustrating and anger at someone you’ve lived with since you were born.)

Why were we arguing on a beautiful night on a boardwalk in Ocean City? For the same reason I was (am) disappointed in a nice win. It’s also the same reason the Angel and I usually have conflict, in our relationship. When I’m shockingly mean to me, in my head, it’s for this reason, too. And it’s also why I don’t buy, or listen to, the new Counting Crows albums. While we’re on the subject, it’s probably why we all hate each other on social media.

My sister and I fought because we had an expectation for the evening, we expected something from the other. I expect the Dallas Cowboys to win every game, comfortably. When I listen to new Counting Crows records, I still have August & Everything After in my head, and this new one is never that! I walk into these conversations with my wife with expectations that she will see it my way, or respond to me in a particular way.

Expectations are about what they should do, what they are supposed to say, how this should go, who should win, how you are supposed to see the world, and on and on. And when they don’t, when it doesn’t, I am disappointed and petty. I lash out, or pout (in other words, I say mean things or nothing at all.)

That night on the boardwalk opened my eyes to a new question, instead of why she didn’t participate in my mental construct for a perfect evening. Who in the world was I to decide how she should be, what she should say???? What gave me the right to be the all-knowing arbiter of what is supposed to be?

And when I finally asked that question, and searched my super ugly parts for the truth, it’s easy to see that I gave me that right. It’s simple arrogance, the same idolatry that is so commonplace all over the Bible and still is, today, in every corner of all creation. I didn’t like that answer, but what I like or don’t like doesn’t really matter when we’re talking about the truth.

What if I could have allowed my sister to be and do only what she wants to be and do? What if I didn’t have to control every aspect of all people and circumstances? I’ll tell you what happens – I am free to enjoy the time. I am surprised by the kindness, care and thoughtfulness of people, and the stunning beauty of my life, when it can unfold naturally, without my need to write everyone’s story by the blinding light of my own altar. Most importantly, without expectation, I am free to be grateful.

I can’t always do it (like yesterday’s NFL game, for example), maybe I never will be perfect, but I’ll sure keep trying. It’s totally worth it. Those Counting Crows albums probably aren’t so bad, after all.