I made it this far, now what?

     When I was a young teenager my Papa took me out to a farm and taught me how to shoot many types of guns. We would go there often just me and him to shoot. He started me off on a single shot 22 rifle from the 1800's. As I learned how to load it and to shoot it he talked about how it must have been used by a man to feed his family and what it must have meant to have it back when it was made. I remember thinking how important this one bullet gun must have been to the family that had depended upon it for food.

    Over the years we went out many times. It was our special time together and I always looked forward to it. Each time the type of gun and the amount of fire power increased. I shot everything from that single shot 22, a German 8mm mouser, and a 30/30 carbine fully automatic riffle and on the hand guns I shot revolvers, lugers and even an UZI. I had so much fun with just me and him shooting.
  
     I got great pleasure from trying to impress him. One time I put a 22 box on the top of a milk jug and walked back 40 feet or so and said, "Papa I am going to shoot that 22 box off that milk jug without hitting the jug with this snub-nose bodyguard." He laughed a real big and said, "You are not even going to hit the jug let alone the box." I lowered the gun just like he had taught me and pulled the trigger. Box parts flew everywhere but the jug stayed right where it was. He laughed again and said, "Well I guess I am going to need to start calling you 'dead eye dick". I really did not know where the reference came from but I knew he was proud of me and it made me very happy. I would clean all the guns faithfully and kept then shinning and ready for our next time out. He would often tell me that they were my guns but I had to wait to take them home with me until I was mature enough to keep them.

 All month I have been struggling with the fact that I was going to be turning 35 and at first I was not really sure why this birthday was bothering me so much but then as I was setting out a picture of Papa and me for the dinner we had on Sunday, I realized what it was. You see Papa had said to me many times over the years that when I turned 35 I would be mature enough to take all those guns home with me. He explained that he felt that when I did turn 35 I would be a mature adult and ready for the responsibility. I thought he was a little silly, and of course, felt that I was already mature. Looking back now I can see I really was not. Sadly, Papa passed away last year and now that I am 35 I do not have him here to give me those guns or to shoot with me anymore, to hear him say how proud he is of me, and to hear him call me all the nick-names he had given me over the years. I miss him more than words can say and would give anything to hear that laugh of his one more time.

     I know that he can not come to me, but I also know that one day I will go to see him. So between now and then I am going to continue to do what I can to make sure that when we meet again he will have plenty of reason to say I have made him proud, not in how well I can shoot a gun but in how well I handled the responsibilities I have been given by the Lord.

Today I am feeling the sting of death but I take great comfort in knowing that one day I will be able to say, "O death, where is your sting? O grave, where is your victory?"

God Bless,
David Ingram
New Day Christian Ministry