Disc Golf

Dearest Rachel –

It’s a little hard to keep up with these letters to you out here in the mountains, especially when we’re outside doing stuff all the time. It’s why I tried to prepare a few letters beforehand to go out to you while I’m out here. Yes, there’s Wi-Fi at the lodge, but we don’t go to the lodge until late in the day, after everything’s been said and done. So most of the things I want to tell you about are long since past.

Of course, they might be considered someone inconsequential in comparison to the subjects I’ve pre-written to you about. And I still have to finish that letter for Sunday in particular; even now, I don’t want to be late with an anniversary present for you, but I don’t know when I’ll have the time to fill in all the stories about that day before then.

For now, I need to keep up with what’s been happening here. There are so many things I wish you could see, such beauty up here in the mountains. It’s a very different thing from the island that you so loved, but it’s beauty nonetheless.

This is the sight that met us when we first got out of the van at the YMCA of the Rockies. We think of a YMCA as being a single building, with community rooms and a pool and the like. This is almost like an entire camp; maybe even more so, as it covers more ground and is made up of more (and larger) buildings. It’s all really quite impressive. And I’m not even looking at that, as you can see: the real grandeur is in the mountains that the place is nestled in.
Here’s another view of the mountains; a completely different angle, and completely different mountains (I think). Moses and Leon are in the shot, preparing to tee off.

Yes, I said tee off. While we waited for our large to be cleaned up for us to occupy it, we played a game of disc golf. I honestly can’t remember the last time I did this; I think Daniel had the opportunity to do so on the Judson campus, but I don’t think he did. Prior to that, I think I remember playing archery golf at Camp Awana that one time when we were doing a father and son retreat back when Daniel was either eight or ten.

I should show you the disks that I used; no one else had these colors but me. That top one’s a putter, and the one underneath is a driver, or at least it supposed to be. I could never fling it very far.

So I was woefully out of practice, and it showed. While Luke, for instance, was routinely finishing each hole in three or four throws, the best I could do is five, and they were a number in a row where it took me seven tries to reach the goal. Considering how I used to always clobber you at miniature golf, I think you would’ve appreciated it.

The interesting thing was that Luke pointed out that each disc was a little bit different, with different indentations and where that affected how well (or poorly) they functioned. In a way, he was giving me an out to blame my tools for my poor performance.

But I couldn’t do it, honey, and I wasn’t about to give up on those purple discs. After the first couple of holes, I gave up on trying to play to win, and just tried to play to play. Eventually, I got a little better, but I was still well behind everybody else. But it didn’t matter. I had stuck with you (in the form of these purple discs) and just enjoyed myself.

That’s all I could ever do in life, as well.

At some point in time, look used me and you as an example for a lesson; that life isn’t fair, and neither is God. Were He truly fair, after all, we should all be burning in hell. And as much as I wish I could understand why he put that tree there – because he knew what Adam and Eve were going to do with that – the fact that he redeemed any of us is well known miraculous, and should preclude my attempts to call Him out for not ensuring we all would be saved.

It doesn’t mean that I’m going to stop questioning it, though. I still don’t understand it, after all. But for now, all I can do is to be grateful of where you are, and that I will go there to see you again someday.

Which reminds me, I’ve got some homework to do before I wake up in the morning, so I’m going to have to get onto that. I will talk to you later.

I love you, honey, and miss you… until later.

Published by randy@letters-to-rachel.memorial

I am Rachel's husband. Was. I'm still trying to deal with it. I probably always will be.

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