pray. - Don't Ignore the Calling

Friday evening, we were standing on the walkway outside our front door chatting with our neighbors. Somehow the course of our conversation navigated back to last year when Matt & I got our concealed weapons permit (CWP), which conjured up a memory I'd like to share with you.

Until meeting Matt, I had never really shot a gun before and had really never ever planned on shooting one. To be honest, I was a little afraid of them. I knew guns had to be respected and handled carefully. I grew up around other people shooting guns, but I always stood way back and just watched. Then, Matt decided he wanted to buy a gun to keep in our home. As soon as the words plopped out of his mouth, I responded with, "Well, you've got to teach me how to handle it and shoot it. Otherwise, no gun." I felt it would be irresponsible to have a gun in the house and not know anything about it. And, let's face it, our world is depressingly cray-cray, and I'm a lover, but I also want to be able to protect myself responsibly...especially if a gun is in our home.

Needless to say, Matt and his friend gladly started teaching me how to shoot a gun. It was scary...I was scary with a gun. Not safe at all. Bless their hearts for being patient with me. Also, bless my arms and shoulders. I didn't know I'd be getting an upper body workout at the same time. So, over a few months I started learning. It was and is difficult for me to pull the trigger - even when I'm aiming at a target in a shooting range. I flinch every single time I hear the gunfire. Matt bought a gun, and we signed up for a CWP class. Let me tell you, I was incredibly nervous to take this class. I just knew I would fail the shooting part. You know because of my flinching at the sound of gunfire.

We took the class with my mother-in-law and father-in-law. The instructor was an interesting character. In the class was an elderly lady and her granddaughter. Once we all passed the paper test, we headed out to this field for the shooting portion. The object was to shoot x amount of rounds and stay within certain areas of the target. Every 3-5 rounds you had to step back to increase the distance between you and the target. Point and shoot. 

Sweaty palms, pounding heart, and jittery everything I went  up with the first round of folks. The instructor had a revolver pistol for me to use, which was good, because that's what I felt most comfortable using and what I had practiced with. I was ALWAYS the last one to pull the trigger and finish my rounds. The instructor coached me through my breathing to help settle my nerves each time. By the end, he had to coach me less, and I was feeling a little better about things. I passed with a pretty decent shooting score too.

Several more rounds of folks went up for their turn. As I was waiting for Matt, his mom, and his step-dad to get done I chatted with the young lady who was attending with the elderly lady. Just like me, they were nervous. The younger lady had to pass in order to go to basic training for the Army. It was her second time taking the class. She had not passed the first go round. She was nervous, but the good news, she did pass this time around. Her grandmother was there taking the class, so she could have a gun for self-protection when her granddaughter left for the Army. You see, unlike me, they lived in a neighborhood that made them feel unsafe. The elderly lady feared for her safety once her granddaughter left. Finally, it was the elderly lady's turn to shoot.

She tried so hard. The instructor coached her through every shot. Every shot she missed the target. She was unable to aim properly, and in all honesty, it was very dangerous for her to have the gun in her hands. After several practice shots, the instructor told her he was unable to pass her for her own safety and the safety of others. He was afraid she'd kill someone. He refunded her money, and as she walked back to her granddaughter, she was in tears. Her granddaughter and the instructor consoled her. Her granddaughter wrapped her arms around her and held her. All these years, the elderly lady had taken care of her granddaughter, and now her granddaughter was taking care of her. She enlisted in the Army in order to have an opportunity to go to college and to have a career she could be proud of - and to have the means necessary to take care of her grandmother. 

As I watched this, my heart erupted with emotions. I walked over to the crying elderly lady and hugged her. What hurt was to hear her say, "I just feel so stupid, and I don't know how I'm going to protect myself." 

Alternative means of protection were shared with her, such as taser guns and pepper spray. Everyone who attended the class that day took a moment to console this lady and to help her. As I walked back to the car, Matt said, "Oh my gosh, are you going to cry?" As I hung my head low and tried not to look at him, I fought back the tears.

I didn't really feel sorry for her. I didn't feel bad she had failed. It would have been totally dangerous to allow her to carry a gun. The world is safer without her handling a gun - I promise - I saw her shoot it. But, what made me cry was the fear she and her granddaughter lived in each day - which made me think about just how many people live in fear from moment to moment, from day to day. What made me cry was watching her granddaughter show compassion and unconditional love. What made me cry was I could do nothing to better their current situation. What made me cry was the kindness each class participant showed this family - the kindness of strangers. What made me cry was how selfish and pity I felt, because I'm constantly taking my safe home and cushy life for granted. I felt ashamed. What made me cry was this lady's vulnerability. Through her vulnerability, I felt God's presence. 

In one of my first blog posts, I told the story of a man with a backpack who came into a restaurant I was at, and everyone began staring and whispering about him. I felt this calling to go talk to him and never did. I ignored the calling. When I got home that night, I was a complete mess about it and cried. I couldn't get the man out of my mind. I felt the presence of God when I looked at this man from across the restaurant, and I ignored it.

The calling to hug this elderly lady was as strong as the calling to go talk to the man in the restaurant. This time, I didn't ignore it. I wasn't able to help this lady with monetary needs or even with feelings of security. But, I was able to give her my love and kindness. I was able to give her the power of prayer.

I prayed for her and her granddaughter on the way home. I've prayed for her several times since. I wonder how basic training went for her granddaughter and if she made it to the Army. I wonder if she ever got a taser or found another source of safety. I trust God has taken over and blanketed her with security.

Don't ignore the calling to be kind. Don't ignore the calling to show compassion. Don't take advantage of the opportunity to feel safe talking to your neighbors in the middle of your walkway. Maybe my heart is too soft. Maybe this is a silly story from a spoiled middle class white girl. But, I tell you, I felt called to share it, and I have promised not to ignore the calling anymore.

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