I’m well!!
I officially got permission yesterday to hug and kiss Sonya again.
And I’m since I’m no longer “breathing germs”, I’m also allowed to help with dishes again.
Joy.

Actually, I’m finding that it can be a joy.
If I think about the task set before me as a chance to serve–which I keep saying is what I feel
called to do, so I ought to be doing it–then anything can be a joy.
Even cleaning a toilet and scrubbing out an incredibly dirty shower.
You would not believe how fast a shower can get grimy when six or seven
people shower in it every day, and a few others every other day.
It also gets fantastically moldy since it has so little time to dry and it’s humid here anyway.
So, I find that all the mundane chores that must be done over and over,
sometimes more than once a day, can still be a joyful experience, as long
as I’m focused on Christ and not just trying to get the task out of the way so I can move on
to more important matters.
What could be more important than doing what serves my family most?



So we took a handgun safety class on Friday from one of my best friend’s dad.
The class was made up of my friend and 9 members of my family.
We can go shooting anytime out in the country, but Dad wanted the younger ones
to also have some official training on the safe handling of weapons.
It’s amazing how good the children are. 
My 11-year-old brother looked oddly comfortable gripping those guns,
with his big safety eyewear and cute camo pants.
(Maybe it’s all the backyard air-soft wars over the years.)

As for me…though I didn’t like the feel of the revolver, preferring instead the weight and grip
of the semiautomatics, I was a fairly good shot with the different .22 pistols.
But I was dang good with that 9mm.
I’d shot guns before, years ago, and it was gratifying to realize I hadn’t lost my touch.
And yes, I am consistent in my expensive tastes.  Naturally, I liked that guns that take
more expensive cartridges.
So when I said my thumbs were sore, I meant the skin on my fingers hurt from all the scraping
that happens when you load cartridges into magazines for the semis and then of course from
“racking” (which is the technical term for pulling the slide back on the top to load the first round)
the guns with my left hand.  Over and over and over again.  And later that night my right forearm ached a bit from all that trigger squeezing.
But I loved every minute of it.  My only complaint about that class was that they only gave us a few hours
to do the actually shooting, and of course I had to share ammo and guns with everyone else.
I think I could spend all day at target practice.
My competitive side comes out when you put a gun in my hand. 
Kind of like when I get behind the wheel of a vehicle.
Is that scary?