Expect The Unexpected

“Above all, remember to expect the unexpected.” Angela spoke with authority as if she held some well-guarded secret the rest of us were yet to discover. I found myself pondering the underlying meaning of her statement, hoping I was reading more into it than she intended.

As we wound our way along many a twisting road, it occurred to me that though I had lived here all my life, I had never ventured out into this desolate area before. An instant sense of fear began to rise in me. “Stop it,” I told myself. “This is an ordinary family with an ordinary preschooler. There is absolutely nothing to be afraid of.” My words fell on my own deaf ears.

We arrived at our destination just in time as I felt an all-too-familiar sense of panic begin to rise to the surface. With Angela’s words still ringing in my brain, I got out of the car, straightened my dress and tried desperately to put on as much of

a professional face as I could muster. Though others had warned me that home visits were anything but a treat, I had been looking forward to this day ever since I had been hired . . . that is, up until now.

Standing slightly behind Angela and donning my bravest smile, I somehow managed to make my way to the front door—hoping and praying no one would answer. Though I told myself I was totally prepared for the “unexpected”, hearing “They’re creepy and they’re cooky, mysterious and spooky, they’re altogether ooky, the Adams family” playing when Angela rang the doorbell almost sent me

over the edge.

We heard heavy footsteps running to the door, and I thought my heart would leap right out of my chest. As the door flew open, we were pleasantly surprised to be greeted by a rather large dog and an equally large four-year-old boy. He didn’t seem especially happy to see us, however, so I got down on his level hoping to set his little mind at ease. He glared at me, wrinkled up his face (bearing his teeth),

pointed at his dog and said, “Me Charlie. Him don’t bite”—which I was very glad to hear.

Before I knew what was happening, the boy had grabbed my hand dragging me through the house with Angela right on my heels. Thankfully, we discovered Charlie’s Mom waiting for us in the living room. After a brief introduction, she stood to greet us . . . all 6’5” of her. Betsy and I took our previously determined positions. She stayed in the living room with Mom while I left to “entertain” Charlie. Though I had convinced myself I had the better part of this deal, it didn’t take long for me to wish I was in Betsy’s shoes instead.

Charlie took me to another room where he pushed me into a chair that was obviously intended for someone with a much smaller derriere. Feeling a little like Goldilocks, I attempted to stand up before I crashed to the floor. Charlie would have no part of that, though, and forced me back into the tiny seat. Before I could regain my composure, he grabbed his rather straggly-looking cat and threw him

into my lap, aggravating this darling little creature to no end. I tried my best to appease him, saying things like, “Nice kitty, nice kitty,” which only seemed to make matters worse. He took one look at me, hissed, opened his mouth wide and bit me with all his might. As I was trying frantically to pry the deranged feline off my hand, Charlie picked up a very dirty, wet-looking blanket off the floor and said,

“Him wants him’s blanket.” Before I could even open my mouth to protest, he threw that old thing right in my lap. It was soaked, alright—with urine! I couldn’t believe what was happening! I had totally lost control of the situation. While I tried to regain my composure, the rather large dog that greeted us at the door snuck up beside me, licking me from the bottom of my neck to the top of my head,

sending my glasses flying.

I finally managed to free myself from the cat’s clutches and get to my feet (not an easy task, by the way). I looked across the room and saw Angela with her mouth hanging open, having witnessed the entire scene and Mom acting as though this was an everyday occurrence. Realizing the magnitude of my plight, Angela

quickly excused herself, and we fled the scene as quickly as our Nike’s would take us.

On the way out the door, my hand accidently hit the doorbell and the familiar sound of, “We’re creepy and we’re cooky . . .” quickly reminded me to always expect the unexpected.

I know, I know, this story seems much too wild to be true. But believe it or not, it actually happened. Oh, I can laugh about it now, but at the time, I wondered if I’d ever recover.

When I look back on that day, I’m reminded of the importance of the lesson I learned. Isn’t it interesting how infrequently things turn out exactly how we expect them to? And yet, we get up every morning assuming the day will play out just as we’d planned. But then the phone rings, or we discover a flat tire on the car when we’re already running late, or we’re called up for jury duty, or we have to run

to a friend in crisis, or the washing machine quits working when we’re wearing our last clean pair of … well, you get my drift. Oh, how easy it is to get caught up in the negative.

So, what do we do when circumstances don’t turn out the way we’d planned, when life fails to meet our expectations? How do we keep from becoming discouraged? The answer is quite simple. Watch for God to show up!

Our God is the God of the unexpected! He showed up to bless 100-year-old, childless Abraham with the promised heir. He protected Daniel in the lion’s den. He made Himself known to Moses in the middle of a burning bush. And who

would have thought that He would make His appearance as the Messiah in the form of a baby, an illegitimate one, at that?

Oh, my friend, God has not now, nor will He ever turn His back on you. He is always at work, waiting to show up in unexpected places. Your job is to watch for Him.

“When you pass through the deep, stormy seas, you can count on me to be there with you. When you pass through raging waters, you will not drown. When you walk through persecution like fiery flames, you will not be burned; the flames will not harm you, for I am your Savior, Yahweh, your mighty God, the Holy One of Israel!” Isaiah 43:2-3 TPT