GOD AS GOLFER IS MY CHEERLEADER

MAY 11, 2022 – Blogger’s note: Something so extraordinary happened to me yesterday, I felt compelled to write aboiut it today, interrupting my travel blog series on Siberia. Tomorrow’s post will resume my account of the “Grand Odyssey.”

I take my daily hike in “Little Switzerland.” In reality, it’s a hilly golf course in St. Paul, Minnesota; a place I imagine as a scale model of Switzerland. My goal B.C. (“before cancer”) was to hike the hills enough to accumulate 750 vertical feet each day—a mile’s worth in a week. Recently, I’ve been ramping back up to this lofty quota. Yesterday, I exceeded it. I experienced . . . a miracle. It unfolded as follows:

Seventeen steps below the summit of “St. Moritz,” my route crossed an asphalt cart path. Twenty feet away approached a lone, aged golfer with his golf bag strapped across his back.

“You’re getting a good workout,” he called out. I stopped and greeted him. “I’m 80,” he said, “. . . and you’re not . . . How old are you?”

“In August I’ll be 68.”

“Good for you,” he said. “You look great!”

“Thanks, but last January,” I said, leaning on my ski poles, “I was diagnosed with multiple myeloma. I did fine with the initial treatment. In June I’m slated to undergo what’s called an autologous stem cell transplant.”

“Multiple myeloma.” The man nodded pensively. “Over the past 12 years,” he said, “they’ve made huge strides in treatment. I know all about it. You’re gonna do great!”

In the intense conversation that followed, the good man—who was a retired physician—repeated the phrase, ‘You’re gonna do great!’ no fewer than three times. He added that I’d “live a long time” and that I’d have “a great life ahead.”

I learned that he loved “Little Switzerland” because of the birds (and other wildlife); that he golfed there several times a week and always walked; that he was no pro but was proud that on his latest outing of four holes he’d shot one under par.

When I expressed how impressed I was that he carried his bag, he displayed his honesty: “Well, it’s not as heavy as it looks,” he said. As he swung the bag around in front of himself, he showed that he carried only three clubs—a driver, a putter, and a multi-purpose club with an adjustable grip.

The head covers, I noticed, were gold and maroon with a prominent “M” for “University of Minnesota,” which is where I’ll undergo the “autologous stem cell transplant.” Instantly, I realized that this 80-year old dude wearing a golf cap, golf shoes, carrying a golf bag, wearing sunglasses, and sporting the colors of the U of M . . . was GOD and that he was talking to ME!

You can imagine God’s grin and the laughter in his heart when he heard me say, “Sir, you’re quite an inspiration.” Perhaps you can also picture the movie Oh, God starring George Burns.

Along came a foursome conveyed by two golf carts. They slowed to greet their friend, and God said to them, “I’ll catch up with you in a moment.” They continued toward the next tee, whereupon God turned to me and gesturing like a guru sharing a namaskar, repeated the phrase, “You’re gonna do great!”

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© 2022 by Eric Nilsson