Eight weeks ago a magpie began pecking at a branch in the fork of a tall grey-box gum tree, way down our sloping backyard. Our floor-to-ceiling, wall-to-wall bedroom window allows us to look into that tree whilst sipping coffee from bed.

Several days later the early stages of a cosy little nest for magpie eggs began to take shape. Lovingly mother magpie brought an endless supply of twigs, one at a time, until she had crafted the finest nest, just the right size and shape for her new family.

After weeks of establishing the right home, we assumed that this caring homemaker had laid her eggs, for she positioned herself in the nest, only leaving for fleeting moments randomly through the day. Occasionally, the bird we assume to be father magpie would visit to check on the family.

I’ve become very attached to the new addition to our family and am eagerly awaiting the hatching of the chicks, hoping that we get a glimpse of the baby birds.

What impressed me was the patience and care that went into the nest building. My husband, Ron, reminded me that I had undertaken a similar journey 28 years ago.

With a history of tricky pregnancies, resulting in premature babies – losing one daughter an hour after birth and another daughter as a four year old, we embarked on another pregnancy, knowing full-well that it may possibly be tenuous.

Laying down from 16 weeks, I taught Ron and our 12 year old son, Luke, to cook and use the washing machine. At almost 25 weeks, armed with books to read, needlework to do and an Italian language course to study, I took up residence in a large suburban hospital with a well equipped Neo Natal Unit – just in case.

We were prepared to do whatever it took to prepare for a healthy new baby with whom to share our love. Time after time visitors came and greeted me with, ‘You must be so bored!’

In actual fact, I wasn’t bored. I was carefully nurturing and incubating our new baby, awaiting a safe arrival in this world. I really didn’t care how long I needed to rest. With only four weeks until the due date, my body decided that the day was here for our new baby to be born. Heidi arrived brimming with health and ready to greet the world.

Like mother magpie awaiting the hatching of her chicks, I too knew that some things are worth waiting for, worth the time of quiet expectancy and worth foregoing the need to hurry.

With caution and patience we lived in an air of wonder and expectation at the miracle about to unfold for us. So too we live with an awe and wonder as we await the arrival of the magpie chicks, reminding us of the perfection and timeliness in Nature.

Is this not like business? How often are we impatient to make bookings, to push a deal through, to rush a decision, to reach a resolution, to get our course online, when perhaps the timing isn’t right, the preparations are not complete, the final fine-tuning is yet to be done?

This has become very clear to me over the past few weeks. I have a course I’m re-creating to go online, focusing on the importance of what we think and its impact on life. It seems that all the podcasts I’ve heard, chats in which I’ve been involved and the books I’m currently reading say that our words are actually even more important than our thoughts.

Whilst being tempted to chastise myself for not yet having an online course, had all the ducks lined up earlier, and my course already been online, there would have been a vital component missing.

Sometimes delays are a blessing, as there may be elements in store that are necessary to create a better product.

The magpie nest has been a timely reminder for me to be diligent and patient, following the proper process so I can create exactly the right environment to nurture my online students with the information and materials they need to grow.