The Colors of Anticipation

My fingers tingled and goosebumps ran up on my arms. My stomach was in knots – but I could still feel the butterflies freely flying.

I didn’t know which sensation to focus on, because they all seemed to happen at once. I stared down at my shoes and took a deep breath, going over the melodies in my head. The lyrics flowed through my thoughts as I closed my eyes.

I had sung before people more than a thousand times, but as I gripped the mic I felt a new sense of wanting as I waited behind the curtain. The drumsticks gave the count off and I took the steps to the stage.

The moment had begun. The songs flew by and the music washed over me like a wave.

Then it was over.

I didn’t remember responses or every grace note through the event. I could see faces and voices bellowing with the band. I could see smiles, dancing and tears, but what I remember best was the eternity of anticipating it all.

The anticipation is the pervading memory, and it’s what I loved the most. I felt happiness just in the waiting.

Do you remember the last time you felt joyful anticipation?

It’s the night-before-your-birthday excitement that you experienced when you were a kid or that heady feeling after completing your last mid-term of the semester. Or maybe it’s the final 30 minutes before your workday ends or the giddiness of nearing the conclusion of a favorite book – it’s all the times you found yourself on the cusp of experiencing your longing. It’s the type of anticipation that is almost as enjoyable as the outcome you’re hoping for.

Children have a way of letting their short-term dreams dance before them. They find hope in new moments rather than cowering from them. The newness or challenge of an experience may be pressuring, but still, in the end, they find a way to want to rise. It’s a beautiful human gift to keep wanting to explore life and the next moment.

The spring season has a way of drawing anticipation out of everyone. From sentimental holidays, weather or wardrobe changes and the beckoning of Spring Break, there is a desire to shift or, better yet, have a happy experience.

If I’m honest, I don’t feel that as easily as I did before. There is an exchange of dread. The background music of the past year and the frequent reminders to be positive can seem trivial or like white noise. I know there is much to anticipate in life because breath is an opportunity to breathe life into yourself and someone else.

So how do we deal with the disconnect?

Myriad answers flood my mind, but I am more challenged by admitting that doing so is difficult. This column is meant to provide personal commentary and applicable, practical encouragement. We hope you find value in our advice, as well as a sense of connection to our topics. Still, sometimes the most helpful thing we can share is an acknowledgement that maybe it – whatever “it” is – isn’t easy.

It’s challenging to anticipate anything these days, when so many of us are even more wary – and weary – of whatever devastating unknown could be next.

It’s that quick gasp as your pet runs into the street or the drop in your stomach at the peak of the roller coaster (unless you like roller coasters; clearly I’m not a fan). It’s the holding your breath before you see the results of an academic or health test. It’s the last scream right before you crash.

That too, is anticipation.

Dare I say in 2021 we are a bit afraid of it, yet yearning for it all the same. We are beckoning the season of rebirth and renewal with anticipation. We anticipate an end or shift to this new way of life that was thrust upon us. Of course, we can always choose to hope, but we need to admit it if we’re bracing ourselves more than we ever have. We can find our stride, yet still note the value in shedding our tears (check out last month’s column). We can do this all while still moving forward.

Spring is upon us and we’re already turning a page. Our kids are closing in on their final months of school as we feel the sun shift into a new part of the year. And we now have a choice. How are we going to move into this next season?

I choose to ride the wave into the beautiful frenzy of the future, be it civil or political unrest, spiritual journeys, racial unrest, cultural awakening, health crises, personal journeys or family struggles. It’s going to be a ride, and I can choose to take it expectantly.

I can live in anticipation of knowing I have a life ahead of me that will sometimes take my breath away. But I believe anticipation is necessary for a life full of passion and purpose. So come what may, I choose to experience honest anticipation in all its forms and colors.

What do you choose?