Yesterday I was playing golf with Jenny Lyn. On the fourth hole there is a creek between the fairway where our drives landed and the bit of fairway where the green sits. The creek is in just the right place to catch most of my second shots. I hit a nine iron badly, and it went low, like a line drive, and then ran into the thick brush along the creek. We didn’t see a splash. But we didn’t see a ball bounce on the other side either. “It may have made it,” Jenny Lyn (who is a very good golfer) said.
“If it did it will be a miracle,” I, who am an advanced beginner, said.
“Golfers believe in miracles,” Jenny Lyn said. “Otherwise we wouldn’t keep playing.”
I thought of a friend undergoing cancer treatments who has decided to try juicing with wheat grass, a raw food diet, and meditation to help knock it back into something she can live with.
I said to Jenny Lyn, “That’s true about about life too, don’t you think? Believing in miracles is what keeps a lot of us in this game.”
