Recently, we've heard of some violent break-ins around here. In our little rural area, a few is a lot. Of course, there's crime everywhere, but around here this kind of thing is rare. While I am not at all worried about it happening to us (wow, something I actually don't have anxiety about...) and we trust God to take care of us, we also know that preparation is never a bad thing. So since today was a beautiful day, and we had to go in that direction anyway, we decided to make a little side trip to a friend's shooting range for some target practice.
Now, even though I will say that everyone should know how to use a gun, and I come from a family of hunters, I, um, don't know much of anything about guns and the firing thereof. I remember going shooting a few times as a kid, but I always found it noisy, vaguely frightening and excessively tedious, so I eventually started looking for excuses. The guys are going to the gravel pits to shoot after Thanskgiving dinner? I, uh... have to, uh... help with the dishes. Yes, I'd rather do that than stand around with my fingers in my ears at the gravel pit. (Hey, I can see you rolling your eyes! Yeah, you, certain members of my family and circle of friends! You don't think I can see you, but I can.)
Yes, it's true. I found shooting to be boring, so I didn't do it.
Here's another confession: I never took a hunter's safety class. There. I said it.
I just always put it off, and... forgot... and... didn't... go. Oh, the class started last week? Oh, darn. Missed it again. Oh well, there's always next year.
Nathan and I have both agreed for, well, years, that I should be familiar with the guns we have in the house. But we don't have a nearby place to shoot (okay, so 20 minutes over to our friend's range isn't that far... but we're busy...) so it just hasn't happened.
But today we finally went and did it.
And you know, I discovered what I needed to motivate me to learn to shoot. Because it's a lot different when I have my strong, sweet husband to put his arms around me and show me how to hold the gun and patiently instruct me on how to use it properly. I admit that the extra attention is kinda... nice. Oh sure, all those years I had Grandpa, Dad, uncles. Not the same. This is almost... well... fun.
And when it turned out that he was quite impressed with my aim (and inch or so from the center of the target at 70 yards), well that helped. He was gracious about it, but next time I'll make sure to aim a little less carefully. Wouldn't want to show him up, or anything. Or worse, have him send me out hunting.