Because nothing says “church confirmation” like the gift of firearms

My oldest son was confirmed into the United Methodist Church today. It was a day of celebration and excitement – for the ten confirmands, because they finally completed 39 weeks of classes, and for the whole church, because it’s reaffirming to see our wee ones growing in their faith as they inch ever closer to adulthood. I was confirmed into the United Methodist Church at his age, and so was my husband. Our son was surrounded by his family and friends, and it was a very special occasion, marked by tradition, ritual, and optimism.

My in-laws chose to commemorate the occasion by buying our son a Bible Cross .22 Remington Automatic-Load Rifle. You know, because nothing says “praise the Lord” like a GUN!

Let me back up. Our boys have been fortunate to spend a week every summer with their grandparents in Central PA. In them parts, shootin’s somethin’ a young boy learns early on. Many kids who grow up there go hunting, although probably fewer today than when I was a kid, when hunter safety training was presented in public school, mandatory for fifth or sixth graders, and the first day of deer hunting season was an official school holiday. (I know!) I never had any interest in hunting myself, but but both of my parents did. My mom bagged a buck and had the 6-point rack mounted, and it hung on the wall with a photo of her with her dead bloody deer prize. She always said it made sense to hunt because, as a farm family, any dead deer was not chowing down the corn on which we literally depended for our livelihood. Hard to argue with that.

Back to the .22. So, a couple of summers ago, my father-in-law taught my son how to shoot a rifle. I truly can’t think of anyone better qualified to impart these skills to a child. Pap’s training was heavy on Safety First. My son shot at aluminum cans (not critters) for hours. Turns out, the kid’s a pretty good shot. He was pretty pleased with himself, and gathered up the empty shell casings from his shooting experience two summers ago to keep as a souvenir.

Summer’s coming, and the boys will be heading to PA in a few weeks. So, Pappy decided it was time for the child to have his Very Own Gun. It will stay at his grandparents’ house, ready for when he can shoot it with his grandfather’s supervision. My son is so excited. Really, what kid wouldn’t be?

While the choice of this particular occasion is curious, I do appreciate the sentiment with which this gift was presented. It’s a very significant way to acknowledge a special achievement. It’s something my son enjoys, and, even better, he can enjoy it with his grandfather. And, while it certainly wouldn’t have occurred to me to bestow a rifle upon my son, especially today, I’m really glad his grandparents thought of it. Because you know what? You can take the girl out of Pennsylvania, but you can’t take the Pennsylvania out of the girl.

Ready, aim, fire… Amen!