Armed and Dangerous

(Friday morning) Just a little preview for this week’s post.

Tomorrow I am going out with my best buddy to a big stretch of woods, and we are going to shoot our shotguns. It isn’t any particular hunting season right now, so we’ll just shoot pine cones and dead limbs and such. I got my Remington 870 12-gauge for my 33rd birthday in February, my first ever real gun (the Daisy BB gun of my boyhood wasn’t too dangerous, except to the occasional backyard security light). I was inspired to get a firearm after reading through “The Way of the Wild Heart” by John Eldredge. I still haven’t even fired it once! My friend, on the other hand, grew up hunting in the woods of North Louisiana. So, we’re going out together for a manly experience of shooting harmless forest debris to enjoy our friendship and to give me the feel for firing my gun…

(Sunday evening) Well, my friend and I both survived our testosterone adventure firing lead shot at inanimate objects in the woods on Friday afternoon.  I’ve had a busy weekend, and not much time to offer deep reflection on our experience, and so offer any particularly rich life lessons to my website readership.  Sorry, that’s life sometimes.  For now, I will simply note three important rewards of the little gunpowder excursion:

1. We had a blast!  (actually 50 of them)  The whole gun experience and the conversations we shared driving out, in the woods, and driving back – all very enjoyable.

2. I found out I am a pretty darn good shot.  That was very meaningful to me, as my father was an excellent shot in the years of his early manhood as a soldier and officer in the United States Army.  I never really seemed to inherit any of his skills or know-how with tools and such.  This turned out to be a very important connection for me to my Dad.  I wish he could have seen me.  I can’t wait to tell him about it and show him a couple of my “trophies.”  (No, we didn’t shoot any animals.  I don’t think the piece of paper or empty shotgun shell felt a thing when I obliterated them.)

3. Call me a redneck or whatever you will – I feel a bit more manly today, knowing I can handle a shotgun with no problem.  Thanks, John Eldredge.  I needed that.