Golf

This morning, as I do on many Mondays, I went golfing. This time it was nine holes in Zumbrota. I found myself contemplating what I enjoy about the game.

There is the game itself. No need to compete with others. I compete with my previous scores and with what I consider my true golfing ability. Which, I’m sure, is an inflated estimation of talent, so my competition is pretty stiff.

I enjoy knowing how far I am capable of hitting each club, making adjustments for wind, lie, and an elevated target or one a hundred and fifty feet below me. I enjoy a the rare 250 drive down the middle and the even rarer successful second shot. I relish in landing and holding the green from one-fifty out.

In the end the score doesn’t really matter to me, which is why I can still enjoy golf. But there is more than the game. There is the experience within the game.

On the golf course there is no loud music, no car horns, no yelling (except for the occassional “fore”), there is no running and no hurry. Rushing is counterproductive. There is a lack of distraction. Instead, there is focus. The ball... the swing... the outcome.

There is reward in a great shot. I can’t count on that reward. But every so often, without warning, a shot will go exactly as I saw it in my mind. Sweet.

I don’t pray much on the golf course. At least I don't pray for my game. I don’t really want God messing with my shots. But when I golf, especially when I golf alone, I am never alone.

“Be still, and know that I am God! Psalm 46:10