People ask me where I get my writing ideas from.
Often my main inspiration is my husband.
For Steve, it was one of those days, everything going wrong. Oppressively hot. But it was men’s golf league night. Since the world hadn’t come to an end, Steve thought he’d play. The first omen came when his partner’s wife called to say he was in the hospital. “I should probably call on him. But, it’s men’s golf league night. Jim will understand.”
Steve found a substitute. He played one of his worst nine holes of golf since he first learned the game. His substitute didn’t fare much better. They lost all four points to the other team.
Most nights, the men stay after their game and get a bite to eat at the nineteenth hole. My husband’s substitute opted to go home. “Family duties.” The winning team decided to stay only long enough for a celebratory drink. They headed upstairs and one of the opposition asked, “What you drinking, Steve?”
My husband doesn’t drink alcohol. Although the temptation to start was there. “Coke.”
They sat at the table, and Steve ordered his dinner. The men downed their expensive drinks and left.
Steve sat at the table alone hoping his salad plate would erase some of the disappointment of the day.
Forty-five minutes later, his food arrived. “Sorry, Mr. Rondeau. We forgot about you.”
“Don’t worry,” he said, although inwardly he thought, a perfect end to a horrible day.
He finished his plate and asked for his bill. On it were three drinks and his salad plate.
“They not only beat the pants off us, they stuck me with their bill!” he moaned to the waitress. She shrugged her shoulders, and my husband paid up.
On the way out of the clubhouse, he commiserated this unhappy experience with another golfer. Knowing that I write a religious column for the local newspaper, he told Steve, “There’s gotta be a column in there someplace.”
Steve laughed as he told me what his friend said.
What is life but a lesson? We can either chose to be unhappy about these inconveniences, let it spoil our enjoyment, or see what nugget for living we can glean from it.
What did Steve glean?
“Hey, I’m grateful to play golf. Even if I don’t perform up to my own expectations. The coke tasted good after a hot round. And the experience gave my wife something to write about.”
Hubby is more than a patsy for my column. I simply couldn’t write if he weren’t there behind me, literally and figuratively. When it seemed as though I’d never be published, he reminded me who I wrote for. “If all God wants is for you to write solely for His pleasure, is that so bad?”
“It’s wonderful.” I said. That helped me to gain new perspective, to see my writing not as an end but a fellowship.
Hubby is my research assistant, virtual assistant, and book signing assistant. Sometimes he has to be chief cook and bottle washer when I’m under a deadline.
Any wonder why I love this man?
Contributed by Linda Rondeau
Readers may visit her web site at www.lindarondeau.com, her blog, This Daily Grind, or email her at email@example.com or find her on Facebook, Twitter, PInterest, Google Plus and Goodreads.