Last Spring, I really wanted to clean out and clean up the two flowerbeds in front of the parsonage. Two years ago, I was proud of my first foray into gardening by putting together a few planters along the porch steps. So last Spring, since I was working from home and seeing a lot more of the parsonage, I thought I would expand my gardening territory.
I bought several books. I poured through lists of plants. I measured the beds. I drew diagrams on graph paper. I made my own list of possible plants organized by height, flower shape, and blooming season. And then I did nothing. The books and plans sat on my coffee table gathering dust as weeds flourished in my would-be flower beds.
I did nothing because I have this tendency to overthink things and get so worried about doing something wrong that I end up not doing anything at all. That’s what happened last year. I was worried I would get the wrong plants—plants that would clash or bloom at the wrong time or not be complementary heights or shapes.
This year, I tried a new tactic. I decided doing something—even if that something didn’t work out or didn’t look perfect—would be better than doing nothing. This year, I redefined failure as not doing anything so determined to do something. I ordered some edging bricks, dirt, mulch, and started pulling weeds. I took a days to admire my newly cleaned out flower bed (and let my blister heal) before heading to the garden center to pick out some plants.
I left my books at home and decided to just look for plants that like sun to partial shade. At least one of the plants I got had been on my list from last year, but most of them I’d never heard of. Many of them weren’t in bloom so I had to go off the picture. Whenever I started to get overwhelmed at all the options and worried about how many or which ones to get, I took a breath and picked a few that I thought were pretty and different, telling myself I could always get more next time and repeating my mantra that “something was better than nothing.”
I planted and mulched and watered (a daily task, I’m told) and I’m happy to say my imperfect plan turned out perfectly! I’m so happy with how it turned out that I’ve turned my attention to taming and transforming another overgrown patch around the corner leading to the backyard.
This was a great lesson for me. Sometimes we can get caught up in what I call perfection paralysis. We don’t take a first step towards a goal because we think it’s too big or too daring. We’re worried we might fail so we talk ourselves out of it before we even try. But that’s really the only way to guarantee failure. Trying and striving for something will never be a failure. It might be a learning experience, a modest success, or a life-changing moment, but never a failure.
This is the year of us daring to dream. So let me know when you want to come admire my resurrected flowerbeds, hang out on the parsonage porch, and dare to share the dreams you’re afraid to pursue.
In Love,
Pastor Annette