I spent most of my summers vacationing at the Jersey shore. If you’ve spent any time at the Jersey shore, you know how to play miniature golf. My dad taught me well. From the very first time I held the club, I learned to be patient with those I was playing with, especially my little sister, who could only sweep the ball around. I learned to be careful and thoughtful with every putt I made. I learned to study the course before I took a stroke, and I learned to get the ball in the hole with as few stokes as possible.
The last night of our recent South Carolina vacation, four of us went out and played two rounds of miniature golf. There were two options in this shaded tropical course, hard and harder. Or, “professional” and “champion”. Silly words. It is just a game of miniature golf. Spurred on by just having watched Tiger Woods lose the Masters Tournament by only a couple of points, there was a lot of talk about “par, bogies, and birdies”. Some of the holes on this little miniature golf course were so difficult that they had a par of 5. I ignored all that. It isn’t that I’m not competitive, I really don’t know what a bogie or birdie is, I’ve never even played on a real golf course. I just wanted to get the ball into the hole with as few putts as possible. I also didn’t care what anyone else scored, except when they made a really good putt, I was a most enthusiastic cheerleader.
Some of the holes were challenging. Some were so challenging I couldn’t see the little flag in the cup from where I was beginning to putt. On those holes, I just got the ball started, in the general direction I thought I wanted to go, and hoped for the best. Many a day starts like that, more often than not, I don’t have a clear idea of where I’m going, I just hit the ball and hope for the best. Once I’m into the course, I begin to see where I want to direct the ball. One stroke at a time I make my way toward the goal.
Some of the holes are just fun. Watching the little colored balls all roll into the water or sand traps, well, there are days like that as well. Traffic on the highway, delays, missed opportunities; all have to be taken with a sense of humor and an extra penalty stroke. And more often than not, you aren’t the only one in the trap. Misery loves company…
There were holes where I nailed every putt, coming in under par, and taking the lead. I’d love to feel that on those days I’m totally in control and on top of my game. There were even a couple of holes in one. I’d love to think it was my years of training and skill. But alas, those are just really lucky putts, and I need to stay humble and grateful. Would that every day be a ‘hole in one’.
Then there were the holes where every putt I made missed its mark. That the ball wouldn’t cooperate, that the wind blew too hard, that there was debris on the course, that someone distracted me. Truth is, I alone was responsible for the missed putts as well as the holes in one. And life will be full of both, the missed putts and the perfect ones. It is the grace by which I accept the bad with the good that really counts. Everyone has frustrating days, where they just can’t get the ball where it needs to go. I can choose how I react, I can throw the club in frustration, I can be angry with the universe, or I can laugh, and shake my head, and put a 6 on my score card when everyone else scores a 2. (Truth is, my reactions are usually somewhere in the middle…)
In the end, I lost the first game, on the “professional” course. I came in last, by only a few strokes, but the score wasn’t the goal, at least for me. I loved the game. I loved that fact that each hole represented a new challenge, and a new start. Just like a new day. And turns out, I won the second game, on the “champion” course. Not only did I win, I came in four under par, because of my back to back holes in one, which netted a free game and my name on the chalk board back in the room where you return your clubs. I smiled and we took a picture. My five minutes of fame. But it was all luck, and all fun, and my little purple ball (chosen because my daughter loves purple) was returned and we all went out for drinks.
