The Perfect Place

I have travelled a lot in my life. Part of what fuels these journeys is a search for the perfect place. What is the perfect place? I'm not entirely sure. But I think that I have defined it as a place in which all things are in alignment -- the scenery, the experience, the sights, sounds, and smells all creating one of those moments in which body and spirit are in balance, joy-filled, peaceful, and fully engaged in the present moment.

I have been blessed by every place I have had the fortune to visit; many have touched me deeply, shaped me and brought me joy. Yet the truth is that I have never found the perfect place.

Machu Picchu was an incredibly spiritual place, naturally gorgeous, full of history and culture. But I was there suffering a 100 degree fever and with a train full of Peruvian high school students who all wanted their picture taken with the blonde gringa. Not what I would call perfect.

Uruguay's acclaimed sandy beaches were marred by my constant walking to find the "perfect spot," which led to a three hour hike along the beach in blue jeans and gym shoes and without a water bottle.

Italy's restaurants were wonderful, but never what I hoped.

And on and on.

I have never found the perfect place. But the perfect place has often found me.

Like last Thursday evening after our monthly summer concert in the church's baptismal garden, as I listened to my congregation singing the words of Holden Evening Prayer, the voices of the children rising above the others, in the advancing twilight, with the crickets and cicadas acting as backup singers, and the full moon rising just behind us, as the breeze picked up just enough to keep the mosquitoes away when, without warning, a flock of geese, flying so low I was sure I could reach up and touch them, soared directly over us in a perfect V, the setting sun glistening off their silvery breasts, while they honked a benediction and were gone as quickly as they had come.

Peace. Joy. Balance. Bliss. Right in the midst of this city of distractions and sirens and corrupt politics and crazy drivers, I had been found by the perfect place. On a Thursday, no less.

I have come to believe that we can never find or move to the perfect place. Even those places we dream of or remember with fondness, when we finally are in them lose some of the perfection of our hopes or shine of our memory.

Yet, wherever we happen to be, the perfect place can find us, taking us by surprise and blessing us richly.

May it be so for you, dear friends.