The story is told of a golf course in India. Apparently, once the English had colonized the country and established their businesses, they yearned for recreation and decided to build a golf course in Calcutta. Golf in Calcutta presented a unique obstacle. Monkeys would drop out of the trees, scurry across the course, and seize the golf balls. The monkeys would play with the balls, tossing them here and there.



At first, the golfers tried to control the monkeys. Their first strategy was to build high fences around the fairways and greens. This approach, which seemed initially to hold much promise, was abandoned when the golfers discovered that a fence is no challenge to an ambitious monkey. Next, the golfers tried luring the monkeys away from the course. But the monkeys found nothing as amusing as watching humans go wild whenever their little white balls were disturbed. In desperation, the British began trapping the monkeys. But for every monkey they carted off, another would appear. Finally, the golfers gave in to reality and developed a rather novel ground rule: Play the ball where the monkey drops it.



As you can imagine, playing this unique way could be maddening. A beautiful drive down the center of the fairway might be picked up by a monkey and then dropped in the rough. Or the opposite could happen. A hook or slice that had produced a miserable lie might be flung onto the fairway. It did not take long before the golfers realized that golf on this particular course was very similar to our experience of life. There are good breaks, and there are bad breaks. We cannot entirely control the outcome of the game.



Some mornings you climb out of bed and everything seems perfect. You pull on the right clothes, breakfast tastes delicious, and the children are pleasant. Driving to work, you hit all the green lights, hear an inspiring story on the radio, and accomplish more than anticipated at work, The monkey drops the ball a few inches from the cup.



Other days are not nearly as kind. These are the ones people generally remember (and usually share with others). Despite a packed closet, there seems to be nothing to wear. The only item in the refrigerator is a shriveled piece of fruit, and you are forced to go without breakfast.



You cannot find your car keys, but once you do, you're stopped by every red light on the way to work. Once you arrive, the computers go down. The monkey has tossed the ball from the green into a thicket.



Sometimes there are good breaks, and sometimes there are bad breaks. They are not all beyond our control. For the student who graduates from high school with exceptional grades, the opportunity to attend any college in the country is not simply a lucky break. For the student who graduates with poor grades, having few options is not simply a bad break. Discipline and good study habits make a difference. How we apply ourselves has an impact on our lives.



However, some of the breaks in life -- both good and bad -- are beyond our control. Loving families, miraculous medical cures, being born in a free and prosperous country -- these are some of the good breaks that simply happen.



Not long ago I experienced one of those marvelous days that make us especially mindful of the beauty and goodness of life. My morning began with visits to a couple of local hospitals. The first visit promised to be delightful because a young couple in our congregation had just given birth to their first child, a beautiful girl. The infant, Morgan Elizabeth, had been born into the world at 5:56 A.M., and less than an hour later her elated father called me with the exciting news. After finishing breakfast, I headed to the hospital, where I found the mom, dad, and grandparents gushing over their newborn -- a gorgeous, healthy baby girl. They were very much aware that they were blessed by the event, and I was even more aware of how blessed Morgan Elizabeth was to be born into such a loving and supportive family.



From that hospital room bursting with joy, thankfulness, and hope, I drove to another hospital in our area. As I traveled, I worried about what I would find at my second destination. A little seven-year-old girl in our church was undergoing surgery. Amanda's problem had developed very suddenly. Only two days earlier, the doctors had located the cause of her stomachaches and bleeding. Using one of the gifts of modern medicine, an ultrasound, the physicians had discovered a large mass the size of a softball on one of her ovaries. The doctors were uncertain whether it was benign or cancerous, and so surgery was scheduled quickly.



When I arrived at the hospital, I found a tense family in the waiting room. A nurse had already ventured out from the operating room to inform the family that the surgeon had taken a biopsy and sent it to the laboratory for testing. The physicians would wait to hear the news of the pathology report before closing the incision.



There was nothing for us to do but wait. Finally, after a very long time, a nurse came bounding out the doors with a jubilant smile lighting her face. "I have great news for you! The report came back, and it was benign. There's nothing to worry about -- Amanda will be fine."



It was a glorious way to begin a day. Two families in two hospitals, two marvelous events that produced tears of joy in our eyes. Some days are like that, and life is wonderful.





The foregoing is excerpted from Play the Ball Where the Monkey Drops It by Gregory Jones.