Something happened Monday night that I didn’t tell you about because I wanted to ruminate on it a bit. I do my best thinking when I drive and this deserved some serious cogitation. I was settled in for the night in The Big Birdhouse out by the garden at my son-in-law’s parents house. Ben and Sue are kind enough to let me plug into the electric out in the shed so I can have my own little space and “pretend camp” in the driveway.

I had already made the decision to pack up and head home yesterday morning and was just finishing up my scheduled post when Sue texted. 

“Ben is coming out to get you in here. Cops are looking for two armed and dangerous men!”

I jumped up and threw a few things into an overnight bag just as Ben knocked on the door. When I opened it up, there were flashing blue lights all over the place so we locked everything up and quickly scurried inside. The neighbor had alerted Sue and said the police were scouring her yard. We went around and closed all the blinds and locked all the doors including the deadbolts. 

I noticed Ben rummaging round and half-joking asked if he was getting his gun. He is a retired policeman. He came around the door and asked if I wanted one, too. I only paused for second when I took the loaded revolver and placed it on the nightstand beside my bed. I was sleeping in the guest wing and wasn’t close enough to feel protected. Yet….

My heart is changing about the issue of firearms. Mr. Virgo was all about protecting what was ours…including our lives, our stuff, and our right to bear arms. I took a concealed carry class and had a permit. When we worked on the ranch in southern Colorado, we both open carried when we were out on the property because there were dangerous characters out there…two-legged as well as four.

When Mr. Virgo died, he left me with no less than seventeen firearms…most of which I traded in for a beautiful diamond ring. I did, however, keep his beautiful western nickel plated long barrel .357 as well as the replica service revolver. After he died, I carried a .357 with me whenever I traveled alone…in my camper and in my truck. I felt safer with it and that was the point.

However…as I have aged and I have seen more and more senseless gun violence, I am less inclined to carry it with me. For one thing, there was a terrible injured deer at our place a couple of years ago. I asked my friend Sparky who I should have come put it out of its misery for me. She laughed and said, “You’ll probably just have to do it yourself. We live in the country, you know?” I knew. I was no stranger to hunting and I was no stranger to putting a suffering animal mercifully out of its misery. 

I carried the loaded .357 out around the corner of the house where the poor deer was standing. I carefully took note of the surroundings to make sure I wasn’t overlooking any danger beyond the animal. I was not shooting towards a road or another house. There was nothing but unpopulated hillside on the other side of the deer. I carefully raised the weapon, took aim, breathed through my shot, and the gun fired. I felt the strong kick of the force in my hands. And looked trepidatiously to see the damage done to the poor doe. 

Nothing.

She stood there with her big doe eyes, looking straight at me, still chewing the mouthful of grass she’d been munching as I aimed.

This told me something about myself. If I can’t hit a deer not fifteen to twenty feet away from me in a calm and calculated fashion, I sure as hell can’t hit an attacker in the heat of a violent act. I no longer had the heart for it.

My guns have remained in the safe, locked away ever since. I’ve kept them for a couple of reasons. If I really HAD to, and the lives of my loved ones were in danger, I would try to protect myself and them as best I could. And, they are one of the last things I have that belonged to Mr. Virgo. AND…I don’t want them in the hands of some nefarious character where they might be used in a heinous act.

Like the shooting of more innocent children yesterday. 

Babies. They are still shooting babies in their classrooms. 

I wish people were as anti-gun violence as they are anti-abortion. 

Once I heard that news, I knew why I didn’t sleep much Monday night with that weapon two feet from my head. I pulled off the road early, got a campsite, and quit for the day.

Vicarious trauma…when the violent events of the world deeply affect those who witness it, read about it, see it and hear it on social media and the news.

It’s just too much for this mama’s heart.

May we never become so numb to the ugliness that we don’t fight for a better world. May we not hide our heads in the sand. May we be strong and courageous and stand up for what’s right and protect the innocents among us.

Yes…my prayers are with those who suffer needlessly. But it’s time for more than “thoughts and prayers”.

The time for bandaids is long gone. It’s time for real and lasting change.

❤️‍?

“Beloved, do not be surprised at the fiery trial when it comes upon you to test you, as though something strange were happening to you. But rejoice insofar as you share Christ’s sufferings, that you may also rejoice and be glad when his glory is revealed. If you are insulted for the name of Christ, you are blessed, because the Spirit of glory and of God rests upon you. But let none of you suffer as a murderer or a thief or an evildoer or as a meddler. Yet if anyone suffers as a Christian, let him not be ashamed, but let him glorify God in that name. For it is time for judgment to begin at the household of God; and if it begins with us, what will be the outcome for those who do not obey the gospel of God? And “If the righteous is scarcely saved, what will become of the ungodly and the sinner?” Therefore let those who suffer according to God’s will entrust their souls to a faithful Creator while doing good.”

1 Peter 4:12-19 ESV