I was feeling sorry for myself today. I was playing golf, but not hitting the ball very far, and I was finding it hard to see where I hit it. Fortunately, my younger golf buddies have better eyesight and were able to tell me where my ball landed. I played only 9 holes, but only two of them were worth mentioning—a par on one par 5 and a birdie on the other. Old age has not been kind to my golf game.
Nevertheless, I am still able to play, and I met a golfer today who made me feel young. He is 89, has been married 65 years, and plays golf four times week. He offered me some of the candy he was munching on. So I don’t have a good excuse to quit golf. Maybe I will be able to keep playing until I am 89.
It’s good to know our times are in the Lord’s hands whether we reach 89 or not. I would be grateful to be able to play golf at 89, but I would be especially grateful if the Lord suddenly enabled me to hit the ball 50 yards farther than I do now. I plan to play again Monday.
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