Musings from the Grange
by Lilly Wit

The day was finally here. On Tuesday, my daughter was scheduled for her on-road driving test. “That can’t be right,” my panicked husband said Monday evening. “Have you seen her drive!? She won’t pass. There’s no way she’ll pass.” Then, in a desperate whisper, he added, “If she does pass, we can’t let her actually drive the car.”

Tuesday morning, she and I headed to Altoona. She was filled with nervous excitement. I was filled with the quiet hope that she would have to drive with the “Drill Sergeant.”

The Drill Sergeant tested my first two kids and while I’m sure she’s a lovely woman with a great sense of humor and a heart full of compassion, she’s also incredibly scary. She’s cultivated a very serious, very stern expression and a long, hard stare that lets you know, deep in your heart, that she’d be perfectly happy to see you fail.

She was exactly who I needed.

When we walked in, I saw her, sitting at her desk, sending her special brand of glares to the large group of waiting teen drivers. I mentally did a happy dance all the way to the counter.

Then the unthinkable happened. After reviewing our paperwork, the clerk turned and handed it to the perfectly pleasant young man who had just walked behind the counter. He took one look at my beautiful, anxious daughter, gave her a huge smile and said, “Relax sweetie. You’re going to do great.” She looked at him with huge, grateful, blue eyes, gave him a thousand watt smile and said with overwhelming relief, “Thank you soooo much.”

I mentally began banging my head against the counter. As I watched them leave together, I resigned myself to the inevitable, took the next number for the photo line, sat down to wait, and reminded myself that, as Margaret Mitchell once said, “Life is under no obligation to give us what we expect.”

Or even what we really, really, really hope for.

In the Technology Center at Innovation Park, we know a little something about expectations and hope. Every potential entrepreneur who walks through our door wanting to start a company is filled with amazing hopes, dreams and expectations for their new venture. We watch them swell with pride and happiness when they do well, and we watch their disappointment, frustration, and anger when they fail.

We recognize how difficult it is to stumble and fall. We know the helpless feeling of not being able to fix it, them or everyone around them. The problem is, life often isn’t fixable, dreams don’t always come true, and expectations are usually higher than they should be; especially when it comes to starting a company.

We hope the people who come to us for help do something remarkable. We hope they find joy in the experience of starting a company for what it is instead of what they think it should be. We hope they learn that every moment, both good and bad, is remarkable and teaches all of us something. We hope they find a way to trade their expectations for appreciation and in that way change the world for themselves and others. Although we root for it, we don’t expect it. We just quietly and faithfully grind away at the details of supporting their journey.

Twelve minutes after my daughter left for her test she returned. She passed, of course. The photo they took of her was beautiful. Of course.

Then, the unthinkable happened, and as we walked back to our car, she handed me the keys and said, “Here, you drive.”

“What? Why?” I asked, completely confused.

“Because I’m never driving again,” she said. “I hate it.”

Based on her reaction, I’m assuming it was wrong of me to scream “Hallelujah.”

I’m hoping someday, she’ll get over it and start talking to me again.

But I don’t expect it.