Celebrating Jerusalem’s 50th


Here’s a picture of a bird I did not shoot.

I was invited to a celebration for the fiftieth anniversary of the reunification of Jerusalem into Israel.  Since it was being celebrated here in town, of course I wanted to go.  As often happens, God has a secondary purpose for going to the event.

The person who invited me was Deborah, my filmmaker friend.  I recently met Eleanora (see A New Friendship Blossoms) who is a retired professional actress.  Deborah’s good friend, actress Barbara Sanua, has gone home to be with Jesus.  And although Eleanora is a good deal older than Barbara was, she could still possibly do some acting for Deborah.  A filmmaker needs actors, and Deborah has used many non-professional actors.  But a professional—especially an Italian—could be a real blessing for her films.  Thus, with Eleanora’s permission, I brought her to the event to introduce her to Deborah.

It rained and rained all day, but the event was held in an arcaded courtyard.  Once the introductions were done, Eleanora was fascinated with the celebration.  Hebrew Roots is even newer to Italian believers than it is to Americans.  But it is also growing here.  So there were Jews, Messianic Jews, and Hebrew Roots Christians in attendance—a beautiful thing to see in a country that once collaborated with Hitler in the rounding-up of Jews into ghettos and eventually concentration camps.

In the course of the day I also met Bruno.  I only knew Bruno through Facebook and our mutual friendship with Deborah.  Here in Italy, Deborah is very well-known and knows everybody.  Bruno had lived many years in Oregon before returning to Italy to care for an aging aunt.  The aunt has since passed away.  Bruno was very happy for the opportunity to speak English, which he does with hardly a trace of an Italian accent.  I enjoyed talking with him.  It’s really nice when a Facebook friend turns out to be someone you also like knowing in person.  Bruno seems like a real gentleman in every sense of the word.  Too bad that he lives at the other end of the country.  But who knows, we could meet up again sometime.

Eventually the rain and cold got to Eleanora and also to me.  We decided to go home.  Deborah asked Eleanora if she could get a ride to the train station.  She didn’t really need to go to the train station, but near the train station there are lots of phone repair shops that have all sorts of phone gadgets.  Since my house was on the way, she dropped me off first.  I said my goodbyes and my two friends (who are now friends with each other) and they drove off into the misty rain.

I recently had a conversation with my son, Tim (the translator of my books).  He asked me if I had ever shot a gun.  I shocked him by saying that I have shot both rifles and a pistol.  I love shooting rifles, pistols not so much.  The only thing I didn’t like about shooting was that my first target was a bird.  I shot it right through the head and it dropped like a stone.  I instantly hated and loved it.  I hated that I had killed the bird, but I loved the satisfaction of shooting.  So I changed to old bottles and cans, which were much better.  There is something very satisfying about shooting and seeing the bottle shatter or the can jump.  I told Tim that I shoot a rifle left-handed, sighting with my left eye.  He was surprised because I am so dominantly right-handed that I really only use lefty to hand things to righty or to hold things steady for righty to fix.  But I explained: my right arm is stronger and therefore steadier for holding the rifle still.  All the left hand has to do is gently squeeze the trigger.  The reason why I prefer a rifle to a pistol is because a pistol is held with both hands, elbows locked, and I found it harder to sight with a pistol.  My ex’s 22 rifle was just the right size and weight for me.  Although I haven’t shot in a long time, I would love to do some shooting again.

Today was like shooting: very satisfying.  I shot two birds with one stone today—in a manner of speaking.  It’s been a really good day.  God is good!

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