God on the Tennis Court

Yep! he's there. I met him there this morning. Ellie and I play about every day-- usually in a group varying from 4 to 8. We try to accomodate everyone. This morning we played fives:
the person who has served sits down and the other one comes in. Everyone rotates 1 position clockwise.

Fives is much easier than playing a set--very little pressure. It doesn't matter whether you win or not; next game you'll have another partner. Just easy social tennis, good time to practice your shots.

This morning, in a momentary lull I found the grace to pray. I asked that everyone might have a good time. I realized I needed to forgive some (incorrigible sinners!). I did.

The rest of the morning was wonderful. People's eccentricites were only cause for amusement, but you need to be careful not to laugh facing any opponent who has just butchered his shot.

Several days ago one man got so steamed about the fact that his two opponents were hitting the ball too hard that he denounced them with unspeakable language and proceeded to leave. I went over to console the two insulted boys, and I had a strong impulse to correct the offender severely, but by that time he had left. This morning I realized that the poor man (my age, no less) has a really hard time dealing with the frustrations of tennis. Pray for him.

Another friend is the butt of everyone's jokes. At 82 he still smokes incessantly. Ellie disallowed him from smoking on the court, so he goes off in a corner for that. He has many other deficiencies, very obnoxious. This morning I realized that he is really a child, not much brain left. I complimented him on his game.

We are told to love one another. Sometimes it's hard. But a little prayer can make a world of difference. It can also make you a much more human person than you might have been otherwise.

Brethren (and sistern) let's pray.