We had a great little 4-day vacation this past weekend with a trip to a friend’s home in a northwest snow-bound resort. We had lots of fun, laughs and good food. But there was one small little moment of great pride and joy for me…
There aren’t a lot of man things we do in the Jones family. I was an athlete my whole life, but none of my girls have found their passion in sports. Grace is an amazing swimmer, Isabel enjoys playing soccer and Julia is pretty good at volleyball. But, it isn’t a passion for any of them. So, my dreams of raising up a mighty basketball team just haven’t come to fruition. (If you hear a little lamenting here, you have good ears.)
Now, don’t get me wrong here, I love my girls and I love the things they love. We all share a passion for music and we have lots of fun sharing lots of great recreational activities. But, the things of manhood have not been high on the to do list around here until this past summer.
Realizing this weakness in our home, I decided I needed to find a man activity that my girls could enjoy. My dad passed away several years back and one of the things he left me was a few guns and a small storehouse of ammo. So, after several years of letting them collect dust, I decided to teach my girls how to shoot. We have a shooting range nearby and we spent many a Saturday afternoon this summer at the shooting range making loud noises and smelling gun smoke. Finally, I found a man activity that my girls enjoyed. And they got really good at it. These girls love it and they can shoot.
…So, back to my moment of great pride this weekend. While most people were out of the house, my friend showed me a couple of high-powered, large caliber air rifles he had brought with him. We decided to take them out on the back deck and try them out. Isabel, my youngest, was sitting near the back door and when she saw the guns come by, she quickly put her shoes on, grabbed her coat and headed out with us. After a couple people took a few shots, Isabel decided she wanted to take a turn. Without a hit of fear and with the confidence of a paratrooper, she grabbed the gun and finger indexed (sorry, non-shooters), began to acquire the target. The rifle was a bit large for her and she had to struggle to line up her eye with the scope, so I was a little nervous that all my training wasn’t going to pay off. But after a few moments, she put her crosshairs on the soda can we had set up on the tree stump, pulled the trigger and scored a perfect hit in the center of the can.
I might not have that basketball team, but I HAVE RAISED SOME GIRLS WHO CAN SHOOT A GUN!! (hear lots of grunting and masculine sounds)
Specializing in Marriage and Family Therapy
Life, Family, Faith and Travel...the life of a Jones
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