Can I Help?

Almost every event with kids ends the same way.

The last scorecard has been turned in. Parents are gathering backpacks and jackets. The music has been turned off. I'm packing up the equipment. Then I hear a small voice behind me.

"Can I help?"

I've come to look forward to that question.

The funny thing is, it almost never comes from the child who only played one round. It comes from the one who never wanted to leave.

Every event seems to have one. Sometimes two.

While everyone else wanders off toward cake, the bounce house, or whatever else is happening, these kids keep coming back. They play the course once. Then again. Then they decide things might go differently if they use the orange ball instead of the blue one. Before long, they aren't really playing miniature golf anymore. They're experimenting, exploring, and trying wonderfully pointless ideas just to see what happens

The course stops feeling like something that was set up for them.

For a little while...

It becomes their course.

You can actually watch it happen. They start showing younger kids where to stand. They explain the rules like they've been working there for years. They point out their favorite holes. They offer strategy with complete confidence, whether it works or not.

Then the event ends.

I begin taking the course apart one hole at a time.

And almost without fail...

One of those kids wanders over.

"Can I help?"

Not because anyone asked. Not because there's a reward waiting. Just because they want to. One child carefully puts the putters into the travel bag. Another starts gathering golf balls. Someone notices a piece of trash blowing across the green and quietly picks it up.

None of those things save me much time. That's never been the point. What fascinates me is how quietly it happens. Somewhere during the afternoon they stopped thinking like guests. They started thinking like caretakers.

The longer I've done this, the more I've realized kids aren't the only ones who do it. Adults do too. Someone picks up a stray golf ball without thinking. A coworker keeps score for the whole group. A guest explains the rules to a family that just walked up. Nobody assigned those jobs. People simply saw something that needed doing.

I've noticed that when people genuinely enjoy being part of something, they stop asking, "What do I get to do?" and quietly begin asking, "What can I do to help?"

People sometimes ask how I know whether an event went well.

Of course it's nice when someone tells me they had fun.

It's even better when they invite me back.

But my favorite compliment has never come from the person who hired me.

It comes while I'm loading the trailer. Usually from someone who has already played the course a dozen times. They look at the pile of putters, golf balls, and scorecards and ask the simplest question in the world.

"Can I help?"

I always give the same answer.

"Absolutely."

Then something wonderful happens.

For a few minutes...

It isn't my miniature golf course anymore.

It's ours.