Dana walked off the 18th green with her mind swirling with all the things she wanted and needed to do. She reached into the golf bag and pulled out her cell phone to check the time; it read, 5:08. She noticed a few text alerts, but before checking them, she was suddenly overcome with an impulse to eat. “I’m starving”, she thought to herself. Immediately her legs took her in the direction of the grill. She plopped her bag down, grabbed her wallet and headed into the grill. She was thinking, “It felt good to sit after the 18.” It had been a long day already and this was the first time she had a moment to her herself. Devouring the bar, she perused through her text messages. Several of her friends had been back and forth on group message about an event later that evening. “See u @ 7pm”, the last text read. Finishing up the last of her snack, she began to reflect back over the round. She had already planned to hit a few short putts after the round to maintain her technique. (She had really been putting well lately and wanted to stick to a routine she had been doing). Through her mental accounting, she realized that the only shots she had really missed was in her long zone, a utility and a 5 wood. “I’ll have time after putting to run over to the range and hit a few before I need to leave.” “7pm!”, she reflected for a moment as though she was trying to set an alarm clock in her head. Off to the putting green she went. It was the day before Thanksgiving; it would be dark shortly so she was in a bit of a hurry.
As she slide her putter into her bag, the light from her phone lit up the area, it was dusk, the clock on the phone read 6:20. “I have time to hit a few!” she exclaimed to herself. She slid the phone into the pocket of her bag and briskly walked toward the range. The range was not lit, but there was this one streetlight that illumined a corner of the teeing area. It was her nightlight at the course; Dana had hit under its glow hundred of times. She sat her bag and the bucket of balls down simultaneously spilling a few of the balls as the bucket hit the ground. She pulled her glove onto her hand, threw down her alignment aid and grabbed her utility club. The first two over drew a bit, as did the next 6. She began to run through her mental checklist as to why. Thinking to herself, “A bit too inside she surmised”. She made a few corrective practice swings then hit another one … slight pull. Over did it she thought, and then she took several more practice swings searching for that elusive slot. Reaching over, she roles another ball into her hitting area, whack, this one starts little right and draws gently back into at her target… another, the same result. “Once is luck, twice is skill” echoes the voice of her father in her head. Another ball and so on… She got lost in the purity of the strike and the bliss of perfection. She was enjoying the dance of synchronized movements. It didn’t matter that she could no longer see where the ball was landing; she knew where it was going.
The fact that there were no more balls in the bucket woke her up to her surroundings again. Content, she placed her alignment stick back in her bag, threw the bag onto her shoulder and began walking toward where her car was parked. She grabbed her phone from the side pocket on her bag. When it lit up, the time was 8:20. The text alerts read, “Where are you?” and another “Are you ok?”. She couldn’t believe that much time has passed; it wasn’t the first time she got lost her in practicing.
She immediately felt awful, “I let them down again”. Dana and her friends had planned to get together the night before Thanksgiving to prepare a meal for a less fortunate family. Their plan was to take it over to them next morning before heading to their families houses for a Thanksgiving feast. The day after Thanksgiving Dana was heading to LPGA qualifying school. This was going to be her first attempt to get her card; she was nervous and been working diligently to be prepared to give it her best. At this moment that wasn’t her concern, she felt so guilty about letting her friends down, then her thoughts moved the to family she was to be preparing the meal for, she sunk deeper in to her guilty. “I’m such an awful person!” she thought. “I’m so selfish, I’m so sorry God.”
What does God think about this? Has she done anything wrong, that is, let God down in some way? Or is she doing exactly what she is supposed to be doing, that which is “holy and pleasing to God”?