Just as I am. Those words came to me last week as I sat in silence in a small chapel at Origins, a beautiful retreat centre just outside the city where I live. The fully glazed front of the chapel looks out onto the veld, a tree-lined river, and a small ‘koppie’ (hill). It’s African bush at its best. Most of my fellow retreatants were kneeling, deep in prayer. It was a sacred, serious moment. But my knees were achy, and I edged off the prayer stool and sat cross-legged instead. Maybe not quite as ‘holy’ a posture, but, I told myself, this must have been how Mary had sat at Jesus’ feet too. A quick glance around the room, and I berated myself to do what everyone else was doing—close my eyes and focus on God. Oh, but that view! How I wanted to soak that in before I returned to my grey city life.

That was when a squirrel ran past outside. For anyone who lives near a big park or forest, squirrels may not be very exciting, but this city girl was enchanted. More than that, it felt like a small gift from God, something only we shared in that moment. I’m sure all the reverently kneeling ones had their own meaningful encounters with God, but this ‘squirrel moment’ was mine. It was God saying, Come to me just as you are. Sit cross-legged with your eyes wide open. Delight in what I’ve created. You don’t have to be something other than who I made you to be. You are not perfect, but you are accepted. I love you more than you will ever understand.

I know! All that from an unassuming squirrel (and Holy Spirit whisperings inside me).

In that sweet, simple moment, I knew I was accepted and loved. Just as I am.

I’m not sure about you, but I have lived for five decades and still don’t feel ‘good enough’. I still compare myself to others who seem to do life (even spiritual retreats) better than I do. I still feel like I have to do and be better, in order to please God.

But I carried my squirrel lesson with me this week, and where the voices of the world and my mind said, ‘not good enough, gotta do better’, I returned to that moment, sitting cross-legged and Mary-like at Jesus’ feet, basking in his love and acceptance.

I realised something else. If I am accepted in my far-from-perfect state, so are the people around me. Who am I to judge, criticise, or offer them anything less than the love and acceptance God gives me?

Just as I am. After the retreat, I remembered that we sang a hymn with those words in my previous church. Here it is, and may it bless you as you remember that God accepts you just as you are.