Expectations and Unexpected Joy
I think I’ve probably watched two dozen Hallmark movies in the last three weeks. Most of the time, my kids will wander in after homework is over, invite me to snuggle and probably reflexively turn on one of the many, many options on offer. They’re teenagers now, so I’m not about to refuse to spend time with them, given how busy they are. Although, if I were being honest, I’d probably choose something else to watch. I’ve seen a lot of variations on the ‘falling in love at Christmas’ story. I enjoy them, I really do, but they always meet my expectations…exactly.
Authors and editors talk a fair amount about meeting genre expectations. That is to say, when a reader picks up a certain type of book, they bring with them certain preconceptions about how the story is going to go. If it’s a romance, they’re going to get together at the end. If it’s a mystery, the good guy will catch the bad guy. If it’s a coming of age novel, the main character will grow and face the world with new vigor and wisdom.
Sometimes genre expectations are subverted and, if it’s done well, that story becomes one that you think about for a long time afterwards. For example, in The Usual Suspects, it’s only in the last scene that you discover that the main character (and you) have been tricked. Sometimes, you think a book is in one genre only to realize midway through that it’s in another. Again, if it’s done well, this can be a thing of beauty, or at least fascination. La La Land is a controversial movie in our home, because half of us think of it as a romance (and are therefore disappointed in the ending) and half of us think of it as a coming of age movie (and therefore the bittersweet finale is just perfect).
And sometimes an author subverts expectations only to fulfill them again but in a richer, more meaningful way. In Saving Private Ryan, the men fight through hell (and their own disillusionment) to rescue Private Ryan, just for him to refuse to abandon his fellow soldiers. In the end, they complete their mission to keep him safe, but not for some PR stunt, but rather because, he, like them, shows the same devotion to his mates as they did.
Hallmark movies do none of this. And that’s ok. Neither do most of the movies we watch or books we read. And on a cold Thursday night, it’s nice to sit with a cup of tea and a story that ties everything up in a bow. Goodness knows it’s nice to watch a happy ending.
But the unexpected can also bring such surprising joy with it. I’m sitting by the window as I write this and no less than fifteen birds just came to sit in our lilac bush. I don’t know what kind they were; they didn’t stay long enough. They descended as a flock and left as a flock, a small bit of unexpected joy to lighten up a grey afternoon.
This is a time of year when festivity is expected. It’s anticipated, and traditions anchor us to both the past and the future. To some extent, the same foods, same songs, and same decorations are the Hallmark movies of life. They bring us warmth and good memories, and a sense of home and comfort.
But I would wager that the best moments of this holiday season might also be the least expected. The gift you’d forgotten you wanted. The quiet moment of connection that couldn’t possibly have been planned. The unexpected Christmas card that reminds us that we are more loved than we know.
May we all embrace the beauty of this time of year, both that which we lovingly craft and that which surprises us with its abundance.