What Packing Lighter Taught Me About Expectations

I've noticed something this summer...

I've been packing lighter.

Now, before you start laughing, let me clarify. I'm not claiming to have become one of those people who can pack for two weeks in a backpack. I don’t see that happening.  Ever.  

But after nine round trips since April—some just overnight, others much longer—I've definitely gotten better at it.

Part of it is practical. Summer clothes take up less space than winter sweaters.  And yes... I've finally become a fan of packing cubes.

But I don't think that's the whole story.

A couple of my trips this summer were week-long jaunts to Notre Dame, where I provided coaching and accompaniment to ministry leaders at a formation program. Those are long, full days. Once I leave my room at the Morris Inn in the morning, I probably won't see it again until 11:00 that night.

After doing the program a few times over the past two summers, I know what I need... and just as importantly, what I don't.

I managed this year’s trips with just a backpack and small carry-on.  (Self-high-five!)

I don't pack a hair dryer anymore. The hotel has one.

I don't pack a bathrobe either. The Morris Inn has wonderfully fluffy terry cloth robes waiting in every room. (Honestly, they feel like being wrapped in a big Notre Dame hug.)

England gave me another reminder.

As I was packing, I was trying to squeeze every possible inch out of my suitcase. I knew the London hotel would have a hair dryer, but I wasn't sure about the first two nights while we were staying with my friend Cat.

So I sent her a quick text.

"Any chance you have an extra hair dryer I could borrow for a couple of days?"

Thumbs up.

Problem solved.

One less thing to carry.


Why This Matters Beyond My Suitcase

As much as I'd like to take credit for becoming a better packer, I don't think that's really what happened.

I think I packed lighter—and faster—because I stopped packing for every possible scenario.

I knew what to expect.

I knew what was expected of me.

I knew what would already be provided.

And when I wasn't sure... I asked.

It made me wonder whether the same thing is true in the rest of life.

At work—Maybe one of the biggest drains on our energy isn't the work itself.

Maybe it's the uncertainty.

The first statement in Gallup’s Q12 employee-engagement survey is remarkably simple:

I know what is expected of me at work.

That kind of clarity matters. And it may be especially difficult to find when roles are shifting, organizations are changing, or the job we are actually doing no longer resembles the job description we were hired to fulfill.

Most of us don't mind working hard.

What wears us out is wondering if we're working on the right things.

Wondering whether we're meeting expectations.

Wondering if we're forgetting something important.

I think the same is true in our relationships.

When we're constantly trying to read between the lines, anticipate someone's reaction, or guess what's expected of us, we carry a weight that often has little to do with the relationship itself. The uncertainty becomes its own burden.

Of course, not every uncertainty can be eliminated.

Life doesn't work that way.

Sometimes we simply have to move forward without knowing exactly what's ahead.

But sometimes we can make the journey lighter by asking a question.

"What’s actually being asked of me?"

"What kind of support will I have?"

"Who else is responsible for this?"

Sometimes the clarity we're looking for is only one conversation away.


The Clarity That Matters Most

And then there's one more place where I think clarity matters.

Ourselves.

Over the years, one of the greatest gifts I've experienced hasn't been learning how to predict every situation.

It's been learning myself.

Knowing what I need to be at my best.

Knowing what I value.

Knowing the strengths I naturally bring.

Knowing what's mine to carry... and what isn't.

That kind of clarity doesn't remove uncertainty.

But it does help me stop packing for expectations that were never mine in the first place.  Instead, I can make choices based on what I know I need and what matters most.

So here's the question I've been sitting with this week:

Where in my life am I carrying extra weight simply because I'm trying to prepare for every possibility?

Perhaps there’s a conversation I need to have.

Perhaps support is already available—but I need to ask.

Or perhaps the clarity I need is about myself: what matters most, what I need in this season, and what is truly mine to carry.

Maybe packing lighter isn't just about bringing less.

Maybe it's about knowing what truly belongs in your suitcase.

 

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