The Golf Shack

I was sitting in the middle of a storm, but I was completely dry. It was so incredible (and poetic) so I took this picture to remember.

On the outside I’m simply lining up golf clubs, separating the golf balls by color, selling Gem buckets, renting out bikes, and sifting sand out of the waterfall. I am simply manning the Golf Shack at my summer job, doing exactly as I have been instructed.

But on the inside, this job is like therapy on the deepest level. Large blocks of time where I have repetitive tasks to complete and where my mind can reign free simultaneously. Every second is a choice and an attitude chosen. Every circumstance—whether it be a customer coming to rent out a bike or simply to talk—warrants a response and a heart posture that I choose. Every second is a step towards understanding and practicing where I end and what I’m responsible for, and where others begin and what they’re responsible for. This job is empowering.

Structured thinking time is such a sweet gift to me in helping to prepare for Mission Year and detoxing from busy educational culture I was immersed in. It’s such a strange shift—from a lifestyle of doing to one that is being. From thinking that I would one day learn it all to realizing that growth and learning are life-long processes. From acting out of fear to acting out of love. These shifts are monumental in my soul, and the spiritual growth hurts and is confusing and hard to navigate within the bigger picture.

I find myself whispering to myself this phrase frequently in the Golf Shack: “Livin’ that monastic life.” I can’t help but feel as if that’s what this place is for me. It’s a place to commune and talk with God. It’s a place to work out what He has been teaching me this summer in an environment that is completely new and around people I have never met. It’s a place where I can whisper to Him as I’m cleaning out the Gem panning waterfall, the sand exfoliating my hands (and He my soul)—Cleanse me, Father. Prepare me. The movements are rhythmic and simple, and they bring peace.

Help me to receive your great gifts, Father. Help me to let go and to receive your great gifts.

I trust You. (Or am I just saying that?)

A sweet picture of the bikes and the concession stand where I scoop ice cream :)

  My online fundraising page for Mission Year

https://missionyear.thankyou4caring.org/ambercullen