Morning starts bright and clear.
Hope is high, no need to fear.
Distant clouds build from the West.
A torrent storm – No one can guess.
So with much glee, a swing is given.
From the tee, the ball is driven.
Sailing high to great height,
The golfer smiles with delight.
But a gust of wind does take hold,
And the ball’s straight arc now is stole.
Now no one knows were it may land.
Or of the fate, this Gale has planned.
So as the golfer leans in hope,
The ball’s control – now out of scope.
Encouraging words slip from his lip.
As from his view, the ball does dip.
Anticipation fills his heart.
An unknown challenge soon to start.
His drives were always straight and true.
A shot from the rough – is something new.
“For a Mulligan, You know, I’ll buy a beer?”
But the field marshal says, “Shoot from here!”
Moments like this – Where’s One to embrace?
As Doubt and Fear jump square in your face.
A morning which started so simple and clear,
Now holds thunder and lightning – ever so near.
While buckets of rain begin to pour,
Your hope is dashed – deep down to the core.
But just like the rain which we can not control;
God has a plan for man and his soul.
When storm clouds smother all reason and hope;
Look for the Savior – Look for the Rope.
A current of water laps at the golfer’s shoe;
Shifting his foot, the current does too.
Racing through the gully and lifting the ball;
Down the hill side – with a tumble and fall.
Along the fairway and upon the green;
Its way to the cup – seems ever so clean.
Till at the lip, the ball comes to a halt;
But into the hole – it will not vault.
Onlookers marveled at the wondrous shot,
A thrill and sensation which couldn’t be bought.
But even with that, sadness hangs in the air.
The ball didn’t drop – it doesn’t seem fair.
Life and its mysteries can give us success.
But with God in control – we receive His Best.
For with His release of a sweet gentle wisp,
He’s ever there – for the Silent Assist.
S. A. Collins