Every ten year old needs a shotgun

This past Saturday evening Sierra, Kalee, and I had the privilege to help at the tenth annual Rocky Mountain Elk Foundation banquet. For those of you who are not familiar with the REMF, they are an elk conservation and habitat organization based in Misoulla, Montana. Every year the local chapter puts on a benefit auction and banquet in Albany. For the past couple of years they hold a youth drawing during the event. Every child under 17 years of age has an opportunity to win a prize. The first place ticket this year was a brand new Remington model 870 (youth size)20 guage shot gun. There were probably 20 kids who went up front for the drawing. To my surprise, Kalee held the winning ticket! I got a huge smile on my face and immediately thought of one of my most prize memories! When I was about ten years old or so my dad came home from work one afternoon and said that he wanted to take me down to the local gun shop to look at a shot gun. So, the next day, he took me to the shop and showed me the shot gun that he had in mind. Now, to say that this thing resembled a gun was a stretch! The stock was black and the barrel was so corroded and covered in rust that I was surprised that the store could think that they could actually sell such a piece of junk. I wondered if the previous owner had burried the poor thing in the ground for safe keeping? My dad tried to reassure me that it was a good size and a good calibur. It was shorter and not too heavy. The fact that it was a 20 guage meant that it would not "kick" too bad. He held that gun and saw the potential underneath all of that rust. Dad looked at me with that twinkle in his eye and said, "what do you think, Lorlee? We can restore this shot gun and make it look brand new." I had my doubts, but, I trusted my dad. We came home that day with that short little hunk of junk. Over the next several weeks we worked and worked. He took the gun apart and we cleaned, stripped, and refinished every speck. I don't remember how many jars of Zip Strip we went through or how many steel wool pads we demolished. But, sure enough! That little shot gun was going through a transformation right before my eyes. I remember the day my dad put all of the pieces back together. The stock was a beautiful blonde wood with a shiny finish, the metal action and barrel were jet black with not a trace of rust let alone a fingerprint! And when you broke open that gun and looked down the inside of the barrel it was like looking into a lighted mirror, it shown so bright! That little shot gun was my pride and joy! I showed it off to all of my friends (only, under adult supervision ) and relatives! In fact, that little shot gun is still my pride and joy and I've got a turkey in my freezer because of it! I have had several offers to sell it and every "gun buff" worth his salt has been impressed with it's restoration. That is why I smiled so broadly when Kalee won that gun Saturday night. She, too, will share in a little family tradition. Hopefully, this will be one of her fond memories. Restoring that shot gun taught me a couple of important lessons: Dad knew what he was doing and value is not always seen on the surfice, sometimes you have to scrap past the rust. Isn't that the truth!? I some times wonder if God looks at us and thinks the same thing, "are they burrying themselves in the dirt, for safe keeping?" Luckily, He is there with his "zip strip" and steel wool to clean us up. 2 Corinthians 5:17 says, "therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; the old has gone , the new has come!"
Let God clean your rust to reveal the shine underneath. By the way, Spring Turkey season will be here shortly, maybe I'll get to put another one in my freezer?
Lorlee