My Day as a Disc Golf Caddy

This past weekend my husband and I celebrated 23 years of marriage. The last several years, we haven’t really been able to celebrate our anniversary because my guy is a disc golfer and he competes each year in one of the bigger tournaments that lands on Labor Day weekend.

As you can see from the picture, a disc golf bag hold discs and other miscellaneous items like water bottles and a rag to wipe the discs as they get dirty. This year I said I would go with him and be his caddy for Saturday—my anniversary present to him.

He loved it. I loved it. Here are a few highlights of my caddy experience:

• As I carried his bag around and made sure he had what he needed, I felt I was truly serving him in a special way. Like washing his feet. God had prepared me well for this act of service. It was a joy despite the heat and constant trekking across the course.
• I had a chance to see him doing something he truly loves. His passion for disc golf has grown significantly over the years, and he now competes professionally. I got a first hand taste of what it’s like for him to be on a course, competing against other guys who are out to play their best, too. And what a mix of personalities! Disc gold players are truly a culture unto themselves.
• I had the opportunity to play the role of cheerleader and encourage my sweet guy and celebrate his best throws. Yes, I know the difference between a Birdie and Bogie now. 😉
• I heard one of the players say he wished his wife would come with him sometime. That affirmed for me that I’d done something special for my sweet guy, and it showed me that our men really need our support and encouragement. God truly designed us to play that role in our men’s lives. They NEED us to be there for them.
• Toward the end of the morning round, I was feeling the wear and heat of the course. So much so I had to relinquish my caddy duty to rest. My goal was to recoup so I could stay with him in the afternoon, which promised temperatures of 99+ degrees. I could have taken my hubby’s suggestion that I go back to the hotel and cool off by the pool, but I was determined to see this through and serve him to the best of my ability. Amazingly, that meant more to me than the physical relief of the pool and an air-conditioned hotel room.
• He played the second part of the tournament on Sunday. I dropped him off at the park and went back to the hotel for some quiet time to read, worship and write. This felt truly like a reward from God for my service. When I picked him up that afternoon, he said he played better when I was with him. Definitely high praise!

Sometimes we’re called to serve our loved ones in unusual ways—ways that ask us to sacrifice comfort and preference. I’m learning that when I grumble, I miss out on the blessing that is part of the sacrifice, of knowing I’m doing something meaningful for that other person.

The blessing of serving my sweet hubby that day came in the disguise of dirt, sweat, and fatigue.

The blessing of joy.

Praying and believing,
Dineen

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