No Questions Asked
There we were, five grown women pushing, pulling, tugging, and grunting as we attempted to move a very heavy golf cart out of a bed of rocks. Every time we thought we were making progress, we'd have to turn the wheel, reposition ourselves, and try again. We were laughing, but let me tell you, we were also working up a sweat!
How in the world did we get ourselves into this predicament?
Well, it all started with a little rain. Actually, a LOT of rain.
I had recently returned from a four day women's golf retreat at a quaint resort in Edgerton, Wisconsin. It was my second year attending, and although the company was wonderful, Mother Nature wasn't exactly cooperating.
It had been raining for days before we arrived, and apparently she wasn't finished. On our first day, our scheduled 9:30 tee time was delayed until after lunch. Even then, the course was so saturated that golf carts weren't allowed. By the following day, we were finally able to use carts, but there was one very important rule. We had to stay on the cart paths.
Now, if you've ever played cart path only golf, you know how much extra walking that can involve. It's wonderful when your ball lands near the path, but somehow mine didn't seem particularly interested in cooperating. We'd drive to the closest point, grab a couple of clubs, and head across the soggy fairway, hoping we'd chosen the right one.
Adding to the adventure, the carts were equipped with GPS systems that would shut them down if we ventured off the designated path. They even gave us a three second warning before doing so. The funny thing was that sometimes we'd get that warning while we were actually ON the cart path!
Ummmm... HELLO! We're on the path!
And heaven forbid we needed to veer slightly around a giant puddle or muddy section. The cart would threaten to shut down as though we'd committed some terrible offense.
At one point during the retreat, we even witnessed two men pushing their cart backward across the course. Apparently, they'd ventured where they weren't supposed to go, and the cart refused to move forward. They'd managed to get quite a distance from the path before the GPS shut the cart off.
You would think witnessing that might have been enough of a warning for everyone.
Apparently not.
Fast forward to our final round of golf on the last day. We'd survived the rain, the soggy fairways, the endless walking, and those temperamental golf carts. We were finishing up and heading back toward our rooms when one of the women, who shall remain nameless, decided to take a shortcut to the parking lot to put her clubs in the car.
She'd been coming to this resort for years and explained that she'd always taken this particular shortcut. After more than 60 years, however, the resort had recently changed ownership, and apparently some of the rules had changed along with it.
As our foursome waited nearby, here she came, moving along at a pretty good clip. She hopped the curb, intending to cut across toward the parking lot.
And that's when things went sideways.
The cart landed in a thick bed of landscaping rocks near a T in the sidewalk and immediately shut down.
Uh oh.
There she sat, with a golf cart that wasn't going anywhere.
Now, I have to admit, my roommate and I were pretty darn glad being the newcomers hadn't decided to try that shortcut ourselves!
But here's where the story takes a turn, and it's the part that has stayed with me.
Nobody asked for help.
Nobody needed to.
Without hesitation, we jumped out of our carts and headed over. There were about five of us, including our stranded driver, and we immediately started figuring out how to get that cart back onto the sidewalk, over the curb and eventually back onto the designated cart path.
And let me tell you, those golf carts are HEAVY!
We pushed. We pulled. We tugged. We turned the steering wheel one direction and then another, trying to find just the right angle. Sometimes we'd move a few inches forward, only to realize we needed to back up and try again. The last thing we wanted was to push it deeper into the rocks.
There was plenty of laughter mixed in with the grunting. We'd make a little progress, reposition ourselves, and give it another try. We weren't exactly a professional golf cart rescue team, but we were determined.
After several minutes and a whole lot of effort, we finally managed to maneuver the cart onto the sidewalk and back to the cart path. Once it was safely where it belonged, the cart started working again.
Success!
Of course, our adventurous driver then had to take the long way around to the parking lot.
So much for that shortcut!
As funny as the whole situation was, I've found myself thinking about what happened that afternoon. Not so much about the cart or the rocks, but about the way everyone responded.
No one stood around asking why she'd done it. No one lectured her about the rules or reminded her that we'd already seen what happened to those two men who ventured off the path.
We didn't stop to figure out whose fault it was. We were too busy figuring out how to get her out.
And isn't that a beautiful example of friendship?
Life has a funny way of getting us stuck sometimes. Occasionally it's because of circumstances completely beyond our control. Other times, if we're being perfectly honest, it's because we made a decision that didn't turn out quite the way we'd hoped.
Maybe we took a shortcut that wasn't such a shortcut after all. Maybe we made a choice based on what had always worked in the past, only to discover that things had changed. Or perhaps we simply misjudged a situation and found ourselves somewhere we never intended to be.
When that happens, the last thing we need is someone standing nearby reminding us of everything we did wrong.
Chances are, we already know.
What we need is someone willing to lend a hand.
I've always believed that showing up for people matters, but this little adventure reminded me that sometimes the most meaningful support is the kind that happens without a conversation or an invitation. We see someone struggling, recognize that we can help, and simply do it.
It doesn't have to be something dramatic. Maybe it's helping a friend with a project, noticing someone is overwhelmed and offering to take something off her plate, or reaching out when we sense someone could use a little encouragement.
And perhaps just as importantly, we can offer that help without making someone feel badly about needing it.
I think there's a special kind of grace in that.
I also love that we were laughing through the whole experience. There wasn't any anger or frustration directed at our friend. We were simply a group of women working together to solve a problem, making the best of a ridiculous situation, and probably creating another memory we'll laugh about for years.
When I think back on our golf retreat, I'll remember the wonderful women, the games, the laughter, and yes, all that rain. But I'll also remember five women surrounding a stranded golf cart, pushing with everything we had, gaining a few inches at a time until we finally got our friend moving again.
It felt good to help. Not because anyone thanked us or because we'd accomplished something extraordinary, but because helping was simply the natural thing to do.
And maybe that's the kind of person I always want to be. Someone who doesn't stand back and judge when another person finds herself in a difficult spot. Someone who recognizes that we've all taken a wrong turn or two and that a little kindness can make getting back on track so much easier.
The next time someone in your life finds herself stuck, whether it's in a bed of rocks or in one of life's more complicated situations, I hope you'll remember that she probably doesn't need a lecture. She may simply need a few willing hands, a little encouragement, and perhaps someone to laugh with along the way.
Because sometimes the most beautiful thing we can do for another person is show up, roll up our sleeves, and help her find her way forward. No questions asked.
xo, Sheryl
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