I am on retreat at a place of extraordinary natural beauty. I am sitting on a bench on a cliff overlooking the Pacific Ocean.

Delicate golden stalks sway in the breeze, framing the foreground through which I see lush landscapes and wildflowers. The swaying stalks and colorful wildflowers are weeds really, perfect in their imperfection. Not valued. At home, they are something to yank violently out of the ground. “My yard is overrun with weeds!” But here, they are nature’s immigrants—volunteers of glorious shapes and sizes and colors making themselves at home in a way that makes it clear that the landscape would be incomplete without them.

I came here with a plan—not just to get away from the noise and pressures and concerns of my everyday busy life, but also to find peace with something that breaks my heart and is beyond my control. I have three days of silence to be with my God and seek answers. And there is the rub. I am outlining for God. And I feel like I am failing because I haven’t achieved my goal (at least not so far!). I often make the mistake of seeking the product, the end game, scorning the process. And in defining in my mind what I want to achieve, I close myself to God’s plan for our time together. I am conducting a retreat led by me for me instead of by God.

I forget that sit, sleep, relax, look and breathe are all verbs. I am doing something when I do these things, and they are necessary for my health and well-being. When I let go and let God, I see the wildflowers and the beauty of the common weeds which would have escaped my notice. And in stopping, sitting, looking and breathing, I feel the beginnings of real peace.