Bees, blossoms and the embrace of imperfection (again)

Today’s retreat is undertaken with colleagues around half the world (Asia and the South Pacific). All of us connect through the internet. Some are in short sleeved tops and look as if they’re sitting near fans, hair moving with the wind. Others, like me, are clad in fleecy jackets.

After half an hour together, we each turn off our screens. Two hours, we have been given. Two hours to be still before our Lord and seek his leading. Two hours in company with one another, though also in solitude.

I take my Bible and journal and adjourn to the back porch. 

I open the pretty notebook that functions as my journal. 

Two blank pages leap out at me. They are partway through the first section of the notebook, which is otherwise filled with ink and anguish. Oh no! Disaster! How did I miss writing on two pages? What’s the point of a journal if it isn’t kept perfectly?! 

I breathe deeply, slowly and intentionally, and still my soul. 

Imperfect flowers

It’s springtime and my backyard is full of flowers. But … uh oh … is that onion weed in the lawn?! I leap from my seat, grab my gardening fork (conveniently left near the back door) and yank it out.

Many of the flowers are half chewed by snails or possums or both. One of the fences is decaying but the neighbour wants to put off replacing it for as long as possible. What use is a backyard if it isn’t kept perfectly?!

I breathe deeply, slowly and intentionally, and still my soul. 

Life-giving weeds

A movement catches my eye. It’s a bee, buzzing from one arum lily to the next. I take my phone-camera and approach it. (The phone is set to ‘Do not disturb,’ just in case you wondered. This is, after all, a retreat.)

Arum lilies are officially weeds in this council district, but I let them grow anyhow. Does the bee care that they’re weeds? I think not. 

I stand still for five minutes, apart from photographing it a few times. The bee’s legs are heavy with pollen. It buzzes from one flower to the next, sucking sweetness from each pistil. 

I breathe deeply, slowly and intentionally, and still my soul. 

A confession and a plea

Eventually, I return to the table and chairs on the porch. 

Have I received a word from the LORD or simply an insight gleaned through quietness of mind and heart while in my backyard au naturel?

It doesn’t matter. I pick up my pen. Writing prayers is so much slower than speaking them, and it helps me focus.

“LORD, forgive me, please, for the many times I procrastinate because I can’t do something perfectly. Writing, health and fitness, cleaning, gardening … my perfectionistic tendencies impact them all. Persevere with me, indwelling Holy Spirit, so that I can do well the good works you have prepared in advance for me to do. And please transform me for the sake of my general well-being too.” 

I move inside, closing the back door for the sake of the neighbours, then play worship music on the piano, albeit imperfectly. 

Encouraging one another

I re-join the retreat group at the allotted time. Music is playing in the online meeting room. My screen displays the words, “What will you take away from this retreat? Write it down.” 

I write in my imperfect journal, “When tempted to procrastinate because of perfectionism, I will say out loud, “Only God is perfect.” Then I will do the next right thing.” 

Easy to say. 

Harder to do. 

But not impossible. Especially when nurtured by God’s transforming Holy Spirit.

The music stops. The facilitator invites us to share with one another insights we have received from the Lord. 

Fellowshipping with men and women from around half the world, I listen closely and share my insights too. 

And now, though I know I can’t write poetically, beautifully or even succinctly, I come to my blog to share this insight here as well. It’s tempting not to start, but start I do.

Only God is perfect. 

And now for the next right thing…..