Enjoy The Ride

The invitation came out of nowhere, and was completely undeserved. A friend called to see if I would like to join him on his private plane to fly and play one of North Carolina’s premier golf courses. “Hell yes!” was all I could come up with, and it led to a day beyond my wildest dreams.

Arriving ten minutes before departing was gift enough, but not standing in security lines, nor waiting for my group number to board, made it a dream come true. The shuttle from the golf club waiting on the tarmac made me shake my head in disbelief. I had long hoped to play this particular course, and, despite my inability to set the course record, I felt like a pro. On the return flight, as my companions celebrated the day with cocktails, I looked out the window and tried to make sense of all that just happened.

I am better at giving than receiving. I am sure much of that is due to control issues as much as a generous spirit, but I also get uncomfortable when I'm in someone’s debt. I always look for a way to make things “even,” but, on this particular day, even was impossible. Taking a deep breath, I closed my eyes and just enjoyed the ride.

I wonder if such a feeling is what people mean when they speak of God’s grace. Being loved despite all we've done and left undone, despite the ways we miss the mark, is a gift we don’t deserve, and can often feel comes out of nowhere. Like the day I was given, the feelings of gratitude for a gift beyond our wildest dreams are overwhelming, and there’s simply no way to pay God back or make things even. I suppose the best way to show our gratitude is to just close our eyes, take a deep breath, and enjoy the ride.

A Lenten Golf Lesson

I am not a good golfer, but I love to play the game. The environment inspires me, and the game entertains and fascinates me. While playing, I’m shown many lessons that extend far beyond the course itself. One such lesson came years ago on a course in Florida, but I was too young and distracted to learn it.

I’m not sure what hole it was, but the tee was separated from the fairway by water. The distance my ball had to travel was not all that far, but the water made it intimidatingly far. The reeds and plants taunting me as they swayed in the breeze, as if to say “Hey, notice me,” only made the challenge more daunting. Each time I walked onto the tee, I thought not about the fairway beyond, but the water in front. It was as if I was waving my arms in concert with the reeds.

One day, I placed my ball on the tee, took a deep breath, and tried not to think about the water, swung, and watched as my ball swerved right into the water. After a few cleansing breaths, mixed with some fruitful declarations, I tried again. The result was the same. Determined to get past the water, I tried a third time only to hear the splash within seconds. After the fourth unsuccessful attempt, my laughing friends could take no more, and we moved on.

What I didn’t understand then was the power of thought. By trying to NOT think about the water, it was all I thought about. Instead of seeing my ball flying to the expansive fairway beyond, I focused on the water, somehow believing my ball could walk on water, rather than over it.

In Lent, many of us focus on what we DON’T want to do, or the person we DON’T want to be, but, like that day on the tee, we focus on the very thing we seek to avoid and, like a magnet, our thoughts pull us toward it.

I’m sure I represent the extreme in mental weakness, but the lesson of focusing one what we DO want to do, and who we DO want to be may help others as well. In fact, I think such a shift in focus could be a game changer.

Sacks

There once was a man who found a simple job. He was hired to go into the barn, pick up a sack of grain, and carry it into town. He was only required to carry one sack of grain a day, and, after his first day on the job, he said, “this is the simplest job I’ve ever had!”While making his way into town, he greeted neighbors and thought about all the blessings of his life.

After a few weeks on the job, however, he began to think of ways to do things differently. His first idea was to not only carry the one sack assigned for the day, but also carry the sack for tomorrow. That way, he reasoned, he could get ahead or maybe even take the next day off.

It worked a few times, but the weight distracted from those he passed along the way, and blessings were the furthest things from his mind. Still, it's worth it, he reasoned, until he hurt his back. He needed not only the next day to recover, but also the day after that. When he returned, he was behind. To catch up, he needed to carry the sack of yesterday, along with the one for today, never mind the one for tomorrow.

Under the weight of too many sacks, he realized he had made a simple job complicated, difficult, and painful. Eventually, the man returned to the simple task of carrying the day’s sack only.