The Burlingames

My mom went out to Packwood, WA to visit her father awhile ago as his health seemed to be failing him. He actually bounced back quite well despite the circumstances.

While there her father gave her three guns to pass on to me and my brothers. I received a shotgun: a Remington Model 11 semi-automatic 20 gauge, to be precise. The shotgun looked old and had a patent number with the name Browning next to it. This piqued my interest.

I did a bit of research and found that the gun was originally designed by John Browning in 1889. Browning designed guns but did not actually produce them himself. He brought his designs to Winchester, who filed the patent paperwork in his name and then purchased the rights to produce the guns. Browning had issues with Winchester regarding the Model 11 and wound up ending his relationship with them in May of 1900. After a series of strange events, he made a deal with Remington in 1905 to produce the Model 11 in the United States. The Model 11 was produced from 1905-1947 and was the first autoloading shotgun made in the US.

I emailed Remington for information regarding the gun as I’ve not owned a shotgun before and it didn’t come with an owner’s manual. I know how to use it and have shot it, but I was mostly concerned about properly maintaining the gun. They said my gun was produced around 1941 (based on the serial number) and that they would send me a manual once I provided my address. I thought that was a nice bit of customer service.

It was interesting talking to my grandpa last week on the phone about the shotgun. He said is was one of his favorite guns. I’m looking forward to taking it out to the range to blow up some clays and get a feel for it. Thanks, Grandpa.

Last week I got an email from my wonderful sister-in-law (Sarah) with this beautiful poem. Sarah has been reading through Rick Warren’s Purpose Driven Life devotional and thought of me when she read this poem. Please read the poem and let it sink into your heart and thoughts. I’ve included some random thoughts below.

YOU ARE WHO YOU ARE FOR A REASON

You are who you are for a reason.
You’re part of an intricate plan.
You’re a precious and perfect unique design,
Called “God’s special woman or man”

You look like you look for a reason.
Our God made no mistake.
He knit you together within the womb,
You’re just what He wanted to make!

The parents you had were the ones He chose,
And no matter how you may feel,
They were custom-designed with God’s plan in mind,
And they bear the Master’s seal.

No, that trauma you faced was not easy;
And God wept that it hurt you so.
But it was allowed to shape your heart
So that into His likeness you’d grow.

You are who you are for a reason.
You’ve been formed by the Master’s rod.
You are who you are, Beloved,
Because there is a GOD.

The fourth paragraph is what really stuck out in my mind. The trauma that we faced was NOT easy and continues to not be easy. Each second, minute, hour, day is a struggle to get through. Some days it sucks to continue going on knowing that Mom is not there to be proud of me, to talk to me, to laugh/cry with me, etc. Some days I struggle with the fairness of why I’m still living and Mom is dead, why I’m still married and Dad is a widow, why I’m a mom and I don’t have a Mom. So many thoughts and emotions running through my head each day. I like the line about God weeping with me/us. Yes, He has a greater need/want for Mom but that doesn’t mean his heart doesn’t break with ours. He knows how special she is to us and what she meant to us, which is why he mourns with us as well. Mom’s death has changed my priorities, my thoughts on life and the way I view the future.

We’ve been formed by the Master’s hand, He knows each second of our life and has drawn the perfect map for our life. We may not agree or like his mapping, but as a believer and child of God, I’ve chosen to accept/follow his map. It is easier to follow God’s map than to fight it and attempt to draw my own map.

Needless to say, I miss my Mom. I always will. There will always be a gap in my heart of where she belongs. But I also know that over time God will fill that gap and bring back the joy, laughter, love, etc. that was once there.

The poem is by Russell Kelfer.