Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. I have been a hypocrite. I hold to certain beliefs and principles, and yet I have acted contrary to them for my own self-interest. I have no justification for my actions.
It all started with two handguns. They were owned by my father-in-law. They came into my possession when we moved him out of his apartment and into a nursing home. I asked my wife what I should do with them. We have never owned guns and don’t want to. I have only fired a gun on two occasions. The first time I blew a can to smithereens with a shotgun. I was dating a country girl, and her father felt that no one should have never fired a gun. The second time was skeet shooting with my son-in-law. I was terrible—never hit a thing.
My wife said I should turn the guns into the police. O, why didn’t I listen! Because I thought it was a bad idea—deep down I have a vague distrust of the police (another story for another time). The guns had value. I decided I should sell them.
How do I do that? I put the two guns in the trunk of my car. I went to a shooting range and asked the guy at the counter. They didn’t buy guns, and no, he didn’t want me to bring them in to see them. I decided to take the guns to my two friends, George and Lyndon, who know way more about guns than I do. They said one looked like a cheap, cheesy knockoff of a Colt .45, but the other was probably a pretty decent handgun. They talked about weight and heft and caliber. I nodded my head. Then we went to a bar.
George and Lyndon like bars and they know lots of people. A guy sat down to visit and somehow my handguns came up. He was interested. I showed him a picture of the guns on my phone. He wanted to see them. We went out to the parking lot and I opened my trunk. He looked them over, said he would give me $150 for them. I said sure. (I am blushing with shame.) He went off to find an ATM and fifteen minutes later we made the transaction. George and Lyndon looked at me weird. I sold two unregistered (as far as I know) handguns to a stranger in the parking lot of a bar.
It feels like a Tarantino movie. Flashback to the ridiculous steps that led a foolish man into making that exchange. Flash forward to the potential violence and tragedy that those two handguns could impart. What horrifies me most is that I went through that whole experience with almost no awareness of the moral implications of what I was doing. $150—it will help defray the costs of moving my father-in-law—good deal.
I woke up at 4:39 this morning realizing the idiocy and moral bankruptcy of what I have done. (Oh, I’ve thought of it before—this happened about 8 months ago—but I’ve quickly pushed those thoughts back under.) So I am making a $200 donation to the Brady Campaign to Prevent Gun Violence ($150=repayment, $50=penance). And I will continue to pray: Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. I have been a hypocrite. I pray by Your infinite grace that those two handguns are locked safely in someone’s gun cabinet and will never be used to bring harm to another human being. And please, Lord, make me a smarter person.
Babel, the movie
Aw, Gretch, I saw it, but it’s been so long…don’t really understand your reference. I trust that I am forgiven, at least in your eyes.