Little Black Hole

Today’s Chandler-ness:
3/19/98 - Today you were sitting so quietly on the front porch steps, so cute, and when I asked, “What are you doing?”, you said, “Just thinkin’ bout how I can hit that ball way over into that black hole.” You wanted to hit a little ball across the yard with a golf club into a trench around a tree.

This was before Chandler had ever actually golfed. Grandpa James had given the boys some clubs to play around with, and almost immediately, the game found its way into Chandler’s psyche.

I’m grateful that Chandler had golf in his life. I’m grateful for all his friendships that had their genesis or were deepened on the course. I’m grateful it was a game Chandler and his dad loved together.

Often Chandler would squeeze in a few holes before work or when he was anxious about something and wanted to relax. The golf course was a happy place for Chandler. Except when he picked up the baby rattlesnake on the back nine because he thought it was a stick and then proceeded to play with it, resulting in a bite and a trip via ambulance to the hospital.

The golf bug (or snake) hasn’t bitten me yet, but I’ve gotten glimpses of why Chandler and Chip love the game so much. Basically, it happens when I make contact with the ball instead of the ground and manage to hit it into the air, forward, more than 10 feet, in the general direction of the hole. It’s that sound of club hitting ball and then seeing it soar. That’s what gets you. And when you sink a long putt into that little black hole. Note, when I say glimpses, I mean infrequent, random glimpses, not consistent, motivational glimpses that happen enough to trigger the addiction response.

Chandler was a natural, with a handicap of 4 and consistently driving the ball 280-290 yards.

My handicap is, well…golf.

Thank you, God, for a good day of soccer, sunshine, dinner with family, and the warmth of a fireplace. Thank you for the many hours Chandler spent hitting a ball into a little black hole — it was good for his soul. Thank you for your sustaining grace one day at a time. Amen.