With the ownership of
firearms comes responsibility, so I had asked HoneyBunch several times to teach
me how to shoot and to help me get my License to Carry.
I got my wish two weeks
ago. HB and I signed up to take a LTC class. He bought me a gun, one similar to
his, that would be the type we needed to show shooting proficiency, and for one
whole week he tried to get me to become familiar with it, but I was hesitant.
I read the booklet that
came with the gun. I practiced loading and shooting it in what is called dry
shooting (no bullets), and since the flyer said I would have to shoot thirty
shots at different distances, I finally tried with it loaded.
I was a nervous wreck.
The class of twelve
turned out to be close to forty people. We were of all ages, colors, and
genders, and I was glad I wasn’t the only woman my age. The shooting test came
first, and we were separated into two groups. Those who were proficient (or
thought they were) would shoot first, and those who were novices would watch
and go second. HB was in the first group, and when it was my turn, I would have
to load and shoot without him standing by my side. I was glad HB had made me
load my magazine and my gun several times. I was grateful he had encouraged me
to shoot it before going to the range.
HB knew how nervous I was
but this great calm came over me when it was my turn to load and shoot.
I owe my calm to several
things. One, I asked my friends to pray
from me and they never asked why, they just did. I needed prayer to stay calm,
face my fears, and find my courage. Two, I knew if I failed this test, I had
two more tries, and considering I had never handled a gun until this past week,
I shouldn’t expect myself to ace this test. Three, I didn’t want to be like the
woman who stood next to me.
She talked incessantly
while our husbands tested first. Here I was trying to watch HoneyBunch do his
shooting proficiency test, and she talked incessantly. She chattered, flapped her hands, and blocked
my sight the whole time. I tried to ignore her and have never been more
grateful for ear plugs in my life.
When it came time for the
second group to line up, no one wanted to stand next to her, so I did. She was
one of those chicks whose husband does everything for her, so she demanded he
load her magazine, load her gun, and stand near her while she shot this huge
revolver.
I shut her out. The instructor had us at attention, lined up,
following his every command, but I heard him scold her on several occasions. He
ordered the husband to stand behind the line with the others and let her do the
test on her own or he would fail her. The instructor made her switch guns from
the huge revolver she held to one of his loaners, a smaller 22. Every time, she
waved her gun around, HB said he feared for my life.
I flubbed up once loading
my magazine but the instructor caught it before I did any damage. All in all, I
did better than some of the others, even some of those who shot first, but we
all passed, even the chatty broad. I kept my target sheet to remind myself that
I was a better shot than the man in his mid-forties who complained to my face
that the class should have been divided into men and “girls.” This old girl shot all forty of her shots
inside the middle circle, and he didn’t.
The rest of the day was
spent in a classroom where we listened to the instructor go over the LTC laws
and the penal codes about firearms. We took a test, our picture, and our
fingerprints, and now, it is up to HB and me to finish the paperwork and file
for our licenses.
I may never need my LTC,
but I did this to face my fear of guns, or rather, my healthy respect for
firearms. With the ownership of firearms, comes legal responsibility.
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