...So I Walked Away

The year was 1999.  I was 34 years old, with a wife and a young son.  I was getting more competitive with my golf game, the third year of a five year plan to get my game back.  My son had been a long awaited surprise, arriving a year before, seven years into our marriage.  The clock was ticking.

The assistant pro's life was a good one.  I did my best, and pushed the limits of what I could do for the members, and they kept me around.  I could spend a little time each day working on my game.  I was working for a veteran pro, seven years at the private club, and had learned plenty about the business.  It challenged all parts of me: athletically, professionally, personally.  My game was consistently in the 70's, the members regarded me well, and I seemed to be well liked.

My boss decided to move on.  While I had a good year, his was fraught with turmoil.  An issue at the first Pro-Am event of the year removed that from the equation.  Bickering over handicaps lead to accusations, and sanctions from the State Golf Association.  With a year left on his contract, he moved on.

Left me holding the bag until a new professional could be hired.  I ran the operation, even put together some bids for a couple of outings new to our facility.  I worked long hours, even missed my birthday to keep the facility moving forward.  I handed the keys to the new professional around the first of May.

I helped guide him through his first year.  He was a competent individual, prepared by a pro's pro, and handling his first head professional's job.  We had a good season, but my game had stagnated.  Taking care of business was keeping me from the improvement I needed as a player.  I had grown in the business, and felt stronger for it.

But when I went home, the 45 minute drive each direction, things were not as they should be.  My son had been born at the end of the previous season, and I spent a wonderful six weeks caring for him while unemployed between seasons.  Getting home at "Dark:45", he had no idea who this stranger was, if he was even awake.

Keeping up bible study, I realized I was the father of this child, and God called me to do some things for him.  Failing those would not only fail God, it would fail the child.  It would fail his mother, who I had promised to love, honor and obey.  We see the effects in the schools where God is not allowed, and in the teenagers where dad chose to throw money at kids instead of time.  I knew it would take a little of both.

So I walked away.  I had no definite professional plans, but a God who promised to provide.  I landed in the medical professions, working behind the doctors and technologists who give medicine it's eyes.  While I'm underemployed for my education level, I am providing a living for my family.  I just don't do the one thing that used to give me life.

However, I think of the people I met because of this decision.  The doctors, nurses, and staff at the hospital.  The church family that took us as we were.  The children that I have coached and worked with in church.  The athletes I've coached against.  The coaches I have coached with.  The parents of their friends at school.  Now the athletic director, coaches, and athletes that I serve at school.  My heart was empty without the game I loved to play.  It has been filled with so much more.

Am I a superior father?  No.  I wonder where my kids would be without the guidance and the discipline.  My children are far from perfect, but no human is perfect.  Only pride can make you believe you're perfect.  Pride goes before a fall.

So...am I off base?