In his classic comedy film, “The Awful Truth”, Cary Grant twists the old adage and says: “In the spring, a young man’s thoughts turn to … what he has been thinking about all winter!”  There is probably a lot of truth to that! 

 As someone who takes Sunday very seriously, I consider my Saturdays first and foremost as a “Day of Preparation” for the Lord’s Day.  Being a preacher, that usually means making sure my sermons are finished, and knowing at least the Sunday morning message well enough to preach it without notes, as well a few other assorted things as needed.

This being a Saturday, I had spent the morning doing some final tweaks, etc for Sunday morning, and reviewing the message.  It took a little longer than usual today as the Lord had laid a couple of things on my heart since I had finished my study time at the office Thursday.  Having finished, I thought of how it was kind of dark and gloomy inside – but glancing out the window, it looked like a beautiful spring day out there!  So I announced that we should go outside for a while (“we” being Cheryl, Michael & I – the lone inhabitants in our home since the older kids all left from their visits earlier in the week).  So out we went, on the pretext of working a little in the yard, but really just wanting to get out and enjoy the sunshine a bit.

 A little background is probably in order.  Cheryl & I have this “deal”: I am not to do anything physically exerting on a Saturday.  For the past few years, since I have turned 50, Sundays have been increasingly hard on me physically; on some Sunday nights it has been difficult to stand through the whole service.  Cheryl suggested that it may not have helped when on some Saturdays I had run several miles, or had push-mowed in the yard for hours — or both — and that it would be better to let my body rest up for a demanding Sunday.  I have chafed against this a few times, but as I have indeed felt better on recent Sundays following this rule, I have generally accepted the wisdom of it.  But that is the “deal”: no major exertion before I preach on Sunday.  So you understand, when we head outside to do something on a Saturday, it is going to be LIGHT!  With this caveat, outside we went.

 Cheryl began weeding the flower garden, and I put out some ant killer, and then spent some time showing Michael how to use our little rechargeable weed-eater.  He really took to it well, and did a very good job with it.  In fact, he was very enthusiastic; he gushed that it was kind of like carrying around a machine gun!  Now THIS, I thought, was a good investment in my future leisure!  I can envision benefits returning from this effort for years to come!

Already cheered by Michael’s enthusiasm, as I walked across the yard I came across a little white ball, almost two inches across, with dimples all over it.  I held it up and called out: “What is this?  It stirs up some distant memory … seems like it was a part of some game we used to play or something …”  Cheryl said, “I think it’s a dinosaur egg!”  But it finally came to me: it was a golf ball!  Ah, golf, I remember that game!  Everyone in our family loves it – although we have not played since last October.  And with Libby’s wedding coming up, we may not play again until at least after May 14^th!  But I decided to get out my pitching wedge and hit a few balls around the back yard – just to get “back in the swing” a bit.  Michael said he wanted to join me.  So we each got a club, and a handful of golf balls, and proceeded to hit.

 It took me a few swings, predictably, to loosen up and get anything resembling a good shot off, but I did.  I was alarmed when Michael’s second attempt shot over the fence and into the neighbor’s yard!  After quickly hollering “Fore!” (and wincing while I listened for any screams or curses!) I asked him, “What club are you using?!”  “A 7-iron”, he said.  I advised him to go back in and get a pitching wedge.  We want to keep as many of these in the yard as we possibly can – as well as avoid any unnecessary liability!

 So we hit for a few minutes, and had a great time.  Michael commented on what good “Father-Son time” it was.  I had to smile – he usually says that when we do something together.  Maybe I should get the message!   But I enjoyed it too.  He always says the funniest things.  Those of you who know Michael (our youngest, a bright and precocious 12-year old) know that just he says whatever he is thinking.  I have tried to tell him over the years that we need to be considerate of other people’s feelings when we speak, but it is hard for him.  His natural inclination is just to say whatever he really thinks.  There is some benefit in that – one need never wonder where you stand with him!  But it can cause problems, of course.  When he was a preschooler, Cheryl had Michael in the grocery cart at Wal-Mart, and a lady was smiling at him, admiring his pretty blonde hair.  Michael looked at Cheryl and said, “She’s looking at me.”  Before Cheryl had a chance to whisper anything soothing and tactful to him, he immediately turned to the lady and shouted: “Stop looking at me!”  I wish I had written down everything funny that Michael has said and done over the years; it would fill up a book of stories!

 One thing about doing something with Michael: you will probably hear something entertaining from his lips!  It was no different while we were hitting the golf balls in the yard today, including:

 “Aww, my shot looked more like a gopher than a golfer …”

“Wow, Dad, that was perfect!  You could have hit it over the Himalayas      with that shot!”

And my favorite: “Hitting in our back yard is good practice for hitting shots out of the rough!” 

I had to smile at that last one!  The grass is getting a bit high in the back yard.  I’ll have to get the lawnmower out and mow it – but not on a Saturday!