Easter is one of my favorite holidays. Something about Spring, the flowers in bloom, little kids in pastel colors, fluffy bunnies...Resurrection, a new beginning, sunshine. What about that doesn't want to make you whistle?
The girls spent Easter with T-bone, so I was hunting eggs all alone. Actually, I went for a long bike ride, 13 miles to be exact. A caterpillar hung out on my shirt and I thought about that little guy...how his Easter was coming, his birth into a beautiful butterfly. Soon, his story would begin.
After church, after the bike ride and the butterfly revelation.....I witnessed the best beginning I had seen in a long time.....
The Masters 2012 winner, Bubba Watson and that dude on the right....MY BROTHER, his caddie. It was incredible to watch the progression of the tournament. Bubba sliding up and down the leader board, keeping us all on our tippie toes, holding our breath, making our brows bead up and our eyes well up. We watched from the edge of our seats as Bubba hooked the ball on the 10th green in a Sudden Death playoff...we held our breath. We exhaled when his opponent Louis Oosthuizen hooked his ball. Game On.
Bubba hits an impossible, monumental shot off of a pile of pine needles, in the middle of the trees. Lining up the crowd, he visualized his perfect shot and launched his ball onto the green, 10 feet from the pin. Did you see it? Were you thinking "God has your back brother"?
I wept. I knew that this win was going to launch Bubba and my brother into a new stratosphere. They're never going to be the same again. The game has just changed for these guys. Their caterpillar is perched on that pretty little azalea bush in Amen Corner. Team Watson is in flight. Flutter flutter butterfly.
I am SOOOO proud of my brother's professionalism, his ability to lead and to follow, his ability to manage the crowd, carry a very heavy bag and sometimes the man attached to it. I admire the fact that he is an incredible human being, strong in his faith, humble and even though he won't admit it, looks amazing on television! He is a wonderful Dad, brother, son and husband to boot. He's not very funny though. I'm just sayin'....
This Easter, could not have been better!
Thank you Lord~
The course is dreamy, even a non golfing girl like myself can appreciate the way the trash bags match the exact green of the well, greens. The dogwood trees, the azalea's in full bloom, tall perfect mixture of pine trees and other posture flawless trees. The exact shade of Masters green grass, the crisp yellow flags on the green contrast perfectly with the glorious blue skies. The Neiman Marcus of courses. "There are no cell phones at the Masters"...."Hats are not to be worn backwards at the Masters"...."there is no farting at the Masters"....No purses, no camera's (except on practice round days), no cell phones, no cut off's, no gum chewing, hillbilly actin', no blah blah blah....They are proud, for sure!
I don't really care much about the hoity toity-ness of all of it, but I did thoroughly enjoy being 3 feet away from the players. Hey Tiger, what'cha doin?
Ricky Fowler, My Sassy Pants loves you, with your Caribbean blue jacket and pink Puma shoes. All you missin' is some bling baby! Mama Sassy Pants be lovin' you...My bro was checking out these pics later that night and he said, "awww, Sis, Ricky is one of my buddies, you should have called him over." Good to know Bro, some advance notice would be useful, nevertheless, good to know.
Ben Hogan bridge in Amen Corner....
As the story goes, when the Masters decided that they were going to build a bridge, they had to acquire a portion of someone's property for the project. The property owner countered the Masters financial offer with a proposal for the Masters to give the property owner 4 Lifetime Memberships. The Masters paid several million dollars (as story has it) for the property....Hey, not everybody is privileged enough to be a member, not even if you have prime real estate.
I feel so blessed to have had the opportunity to see the course, take pictures and walk amongst the best golfer's there are, "the Masters" of the game. My brother, Angie and Bubba Watson made it possible and I am truly grateful for the experience. Hey, can I put in my request to attend next year too? After all, I have to walk the front 9 at some point. The hills worked me over. The footage they show on TV does not portray the accuracy of the slopes. My gluteus was maximus hurting. OH, and to prep for my trip next year, I will need to be debriefed on the who's who of your bff's, Ted. That way, when a little 9 year old who is sitting in front of me DYING for Ricky Fowler's autograph, I can help a sista out.
