just wanted to talk about angel verses to the exclusion of all other parts of the Bible. This frustrated the volunteer Sunday school teachers.
So about six months ago, Teri had started bringing Aiden here, to Golfing for God, to worship. Golfing for God was a Bible-themed putt-putt place. Holes one through nine depicted Old Testament stories, like Jonah and the whale. Holes ten through eighteen depicted stories from the New Testament, like the miracle of the loaves and fishes. And finally, the new section of the golf course, opened just last year, was dedicated entirely to angels. Teri had to hand it to Elbert Rhodes, the owner of the golf course. He had created a masterpiece, complete with larger-than-life fiberglass angels that Aiden adored.
And now, even in December, with the course closed for the winter, Elbert had given her permission to bring Aiden to visit the angels any time he liked. Of course, when Elbert talked about angels, he might mean the nine fiberglass angels gracing the new section of his mini-golf emporium. Or he could just as well be talking about real-deal angels.
Golfing for God was notorious for its angel sightings. Teri didn’t really believe any of the stories about the miniature golf place, but Aiden took them for gospel truth. He believed that if he sat quietly for long enough, he’d get to meet a real angel one day. Aiden had a capacity to sit quietly for unnaturally long periods of time.
Teri usually had Golfing for God to herself on Sunday mornings. But this morning a black Volkswagen SUV with Massachusetts plates was sitting in the parking lot when she arrived.
Her suspicions were soon confirmed when she found Dr. Crawford inspecting the hole dedicated to Luke 2:10, where a heavenly host of angels hovered on wires over three poor shepherds and their flock. The putting green required a golfer to navigate through the legs of several fiberglass sheep to the hole in the center of the town of Bethlehem. Elbert had hung some red metallic garland around the perimeter of the town’s buildings. It was festive, but kind of tacky.
Aiden didn’t bother to greet the doctor, but made his way to the hole celebrating Psalm 91. The angel there wore a blue gown and had a beatific expression on his face. He sat down on the bench and got very still. Too still for a typical eight-year-old.
“Hello,” Teri said as she strolled toward the new doctor in town. “I didn’t expect anyone else to be wandering through a mini-golf place on a cool December morning.”
“To be honest, I overslept and I didn’t want to walk into mass late, especially since it’s my first time at St. Mary’s. I didn’t want to make a bad impression on Father Weiss. So I decided to come here instead. I’ve been told this place can be a religious experience.”
She sat down on the bench near Bethlehem. “I know the feeling. We come here on Sundays instead of church. Aiden has perfect pitch, and he complains when the choir sings out of key. That gets him into trouble with Lillian Bray, the chairwoman of the Episcopal Ladies’ Auxiliary.”
This elicited a chuckle.
“Have you met Lillian Bray?” she asked.
“I have. I’m sure she doesn’t care for being corrected by a precocious eight-year-old.”
Precocious? Jeez. No one ever used that word to describe Aiden.
Dr. Crawford sat beside her. Her core heated. Was it his physical presence or the words he’d just spoken?
“Thank you for saying that,” Teri said. “It’s kind of you, especially after the way he behaved yesterday. There was nothing precocious about yesterday’s meltdown.”
“He was in pain yesterday. People say and do a lot of things when they’re in pain.”
She turned toward him. Dr. Crawford was movie-star handsome, with dark hair that spilled over his forehead. He had laugh lines around his mouth and his warm, compassionate brown eyes. It looked as if he smiled a lot. All that smiling had given his face character.
“Thanks for being so
So about six months ago, Teri had started bringing Aiden here, to Golfing for God, to worship. Golfing for God was a Bible-themed putt-putt place. Holes one through nine depicted Old Testament stories, like Jonah and the whale. Holes ten through eighteen depicted stories from the New Testament, like the miracle of the loaves and fishes. And finally, the new section of the golf course, opened just last year, was dedicated entirely to angels. Teri had to hand it to Elbert Rhodes, the owner of the golf course. He had created a masterpiece, complete with larger-than-life fiberglass angels that Aiden adored.
And now, even in December, with the course closed for the winter, Elbert had given her permission to bring Aiden to visit the angels any time he liked. Of course, when Elbert talked about angels, he might mean the nine fiberglass angels gracing the new section of his mini-golf emporium. Or he could just as well be talking about real-deal angels.
Golfing for God was notorious for its angel sightings. Teri didn’t really believe any of the stories about the miniature golf place, but Aiden took them for gospel truth. He believed that if he sat quietly for long enough, he’d get to meet a real angel one day. Aiden had a capacity to sit quietly for unnaturally long periods of time.
Teri usually had Golfing for God to herself on Sunday mornings. But this morning a black Volkswagen SUV with Massachusetts plates was sitting in the parking lot when she arrived.
Her suspicions were soon confirmed when she found Dr. Crawford inspecting the hole dedicated to Luke 2:10, where a heavenly host of angels hovered on wires over three poor shepherds and their flock. The putting green required a golfer to navigate through the legs of several fiberglass sheep to the hole in the center of the town of Bethlehem. Elbert had hung some red metallic garland around the perimeter of the town’s buildings. It was festive, but kind of tacky.
Aiden didn’t bother to greet the doctor, but made his way to the hole celebrating Psalm 91. The angel there wore a blue gown and had a beatific expression on his face. He sat down on the bench and got very still. Too still for a typical eight-year-old.
“Hello,” Teri said as she strolled toward the new doctor in town. “I didn’t expect anyone else to be wandering through a mini-golf place on a cool December morning.”
“To be honest, I overslept and I didn’t want to walk into mass late, especially since it’s my first time at St. Mary’s. I didn’t want to make a bad impression on Father Weiss. So I decided to come here instead. I’ve been told this place can be a religious experience.”
She sat down on the bench near Bethlehem. “I know the feeling. We come here on Sundays instead of church. Aiden has perfect pitch, and he complains when the choir sings out of key. That gets him into trouble with Lillian Bray, the chairwoman of the Episcopal Ladies’ Auxiliary.”
This elicited a chuckle.
“Have you met Lillian Bray?” she asked.
“I have. I’m sure she doesn’t care for being corrected by a precocious eight-year-old.”
Precocious? Jeez. No one ever used that word to describe Aiden.
Dr. Crawford sat beside her. Her core heated. Was it his physical presence or the words he’d just spoken?
“Thank you for saying that,” Teri said. “It’s kind of you, especially after the way he behaved yesterday. There was nothing precocious about yesterday’s meltdown.”
“He was in pain yesterday. People say and do a lot of things when they’re in pain.”
She turned toward him. Dr. Crawford was movie-star handsome, with dark hair that spilled over his forehead. He had laugh lines around his mouth and his warm, compassionate brown eyes. It looked as if he smiled a lot. All that smiling had given his face character.
“Thanks for being so
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