In the Zone!

God made an amazing connection for Giuseppe, our bass player and musical director, here in Kalisz.  Giuseppe had long dreamed of playing worship music outside of Italy, but life sort of got in the way, and many years passed.  “The dream remained closed up in a drawer,” is how he described it to me.

When I invited Giuseppe to the Feast of Tabernacles, I knew nothing of his dream.  All I knew was that when I prayed about a worship team, I saw him and his son, Roberto, our drummer.  It was an open door for Giuseppe’s dream, and he went for it without a moment’s hesitation.

Our first day here, the leader of Team Israel connected with Giuseppe.  In fact, they were talking without interpretation, and made an agreement that Team Italy would join Team Israel (which you can read about in Worship All Night (Well, Almost!) ).  It was a great connection, and little did we know that it was only the beginning.

Adam, leader of Team Israel, wanted to invite Giuseppe to go with him to other places to play music together.  But for this conversation, they needed interpretation.  So we got together over an after worship beer.  I was translating for them, and baby, I was in the translation zone.

Translation has always been a difficult thing for me because in order to speak Italian, I need to be completely in my Italian brain.  It was always the switching brains that gave me trouble.  But this time it just flowed, and I was translating as fast as Adam was speaking, without him having to pause for me, and also going the other way, translating for Giuseppe.  We went on like this for about 30 – 40 minutes, then suddenly the lack of sleep and the beer caught up with me and it was like hitting a wall: STOP!

Look at that goofy grin!  The beer hadn’t even arrived yet!

Happily, at just that moment, Bethany sat down to join us.  So she took over the translation and they were able to finish their conversation.  I excused myself and went to bed.

The funny thing is that I remember absolutely nothing about the conversation, itself.  But God used me to connect these two godly men and to help them discuss their plans.  Perhaps in the days ahead Giuseppe will tell me what they plan to do.  I was just the tool God used, but I can tell you, that even a humble tool in His hands is powerfully blessed.  God is good!

Worship in the Wee Hours

Team Italy’s first worship session was 2-4 AM on the first night of the Feast of Tabernacles.  Here is our team:

Giuseppe – Bass player and musical director of the worship team

Roberto – Drummer and Giuseppe’s very talented son

Daniele – Electric guitar player

Felicity – Acoustic guitar player and worship leader

Bethany – Chorus and intercessor

Me – Chorus and intercessor (and possible dancer), also team leader in things non-musical

Upon our arrival, one of the German teams was playing.  Not being a musician, I didn’t notice anything wrong until our bass player came to me and pointed out that there were no guitars, and three members of our team play guitar: electric, acoustic, and bass.  What to do?

I sent the drummer up as our first musician to take over while we figure the rest of it out.  He went up on the platform and behind the drum partition.  The German drummer refused to let him slide in and take over.  It was a surreal moment.  Meanwhile the rest of the team began pacing in various parts of the room, while the German team played some soft background music, just right for making the changeover.

Just then the techie arrived.  He told me that they don’t have any instruments to loan, which is not what I had been told.  He made a call, and found us an acoustic guitar, which we put into Daniele’s hands.  Giuseppe, clearly unhappy at first about not having an instrument to play, began to pray and worship from below the platform.  Soon his worship became truly joyful.

So with drums and guitar, we made music for the Lord.  Believe it or not, it was really nice, too!  We (the three females) did a lot of riffing, which turned out really nicely.  There were a couple of songs that Felicity launched into that were either not in the songbook or were too unfamiliar to me.  At those times, I stepped from the platform, grabbed an Italian flag, and started dancing.  By that time only team Italy was in the sanctuary, so that gave me a great deal of freedom.

Giuseppe stepped onto the platform and using Bethany’s microphone (the closest one at hand), prophesied that he now had a bigger vision than Italy, and that all this—even not having all our instruments—was a part of God’s plan.

At one point, Felicity had been riffing for a while in a very mellow mood, and I thought it might be too mellow for the hour.  So I stepped back up onto the platform, riffing the title of a lively song that she had planned for our first session, but perhaps had forgotten about.  She gave me a big grin, and launched right into it, which gave Roberto something to really sink his drumsticks into.

Before I knew it our replacements were in the room, dancing joyfully to our music and preparing to take the platform.  I don’t know how two hours passed so quickly.

On the way out of the church building, Giuseppe told me, “We need to get instruments somehow.”  Yes, somehow, we do need to get instruments.  But thank You, Lord, for this first session and what it taught each of us about the heart of worship.  The heart really is more important than the music, and we had plenty of heart.  God is good!

A Dream Come True!

Greetings from Kalisz, Poland!

Today I arrived with five others from Italy, and tonight I will see my two year dream come true.  The past two years I have been coming to the Feast of Tabernacles (Sukkot) here in Kalisz.  The church here has 24 hour non-stop worship over the seven days of the feast.  In two-hour time slots throughout the day and night, they have worship led by groups from all over Europe: two hours in Polish, then two in English, then German, then French, then Russian, etc.  For two years, I have dreamed of bringing a worship team from Italy, and tonight they (we!) will bring worship for the first time in Italian.  Yes, I’m still somewhat shocked that I will be part of the worship team.  I’ll be singing as part of the chorus, and reading from the Bible in Italian.  I will probably also dance.

The feast will begin in about an hour and a half, with the host church’s worship team.  I am so excited!  I’m not only excited about having Italian worship here at last, but I also know from experience that God shows up for His feast—that’s right, in the Bible, God tells Moses how to celebrate His Feast of Tabernacles (Leviticus 23:34), and it is a lasting ordinance (verse 41).  But of course, we don’t celebrate because we have to.  We celebrate because we love God and we love to worship Him.  And with the right attitude, God shows up.

So, excuse me if this is short, but I’ve got to rest up because our session begins at 2 AM.  God is good!

Dancing in the Church

There was a gathering at the Prayer Center Wednesday with lots of children in attendance.  I don’t know if it was planned this way, but it became a children’s celebration.  Herbie played children’s praise songs, all of us danced to the songs and played the musical (mostly percussion) instruments available.  Then the children made pictures of what it feels like to know that Jesus loves me (inspired by the song of the same name!).

The best part for me was when the children came around and prayed for us.  There was dinner brought in by the wonderful people who have committed to cooking for us, and it was a very fun evening.

Then I stayed to do another overnight shift in the Prayer Center.  I don’t know why, but the second time was harder than the first.  Several times I found myself struggling to find God’s presence (even though He’s always there!).  It was again only 3 of us, but this time without Herbie.

Although it was a more difficult night for prayer, it was a wonderful night for interpersonal relationships between the 3 of us.  There was Mi Kyong from Korea, who lives as an underground missionary in the 10/40 window.  I only personally know a few underground missionaries, but I have big, big respect for them and their courage.  Interestingly, Mi Kyong told me that in Korea, the churches treat missions as a call to suffering.  She said this while we were laughing and dancing with the children.  Mi Kyong loves children and when there is a child present, all her attention goes to the child—even if she was in the middle of a conversation.

The 3^rd member of our trio for the night was Zeppi, a quiet little Maltese man with a speech impediment and a big heart.  I found out that Zeppi is short for Guzeppi, a Maltesination of the Italian name Giuseppe (Joseph).  When he was introduced to me, he shyly pulled out a sheet of paper, filled with single-spaced type on both sides.  It was his testimony of how he came to know Jesus, and it ended with his contact information and an invitation to get together over a cup of coffee.  Zeppi didn’t want either his shyness or his speech impediment to stop him from sharing Jesus.

While Mi Kyong and I worshiped and danced and prayed aloud, Zeppi sat and quietly prayed.  But when 2AM came, and we discussed going on a prayer walk, Zeppi became enthusiastic.  He loves Malta almost as much as he loves Jesus.  He took us pretty much on the same route that I had gone the first night.  But it was as much a guided tour as it was a prayer walk.  Zeppi showed us the pixkerija, which is pronounced a lot like the word pescheria, so when Mi Kyong said, “What?”  I told her it was the fish market.  Zeppi smiled, saying, “Yes, fish market!”  We looked into the fish market, but although there were fishermen, they were too busy or too uninterested to engage us in conversation beyond a simple hello.

My comment about the language similarity with Italian led Mi Kyong to comment that the Maltese words for hello and milk sound very much like Arabic.  Zeppi was almost leaping for joy, “Yes! Yes! Like Arabic!”  I was very surprised that Arabic had gotten a strong enough foothold on Malta to influence the language this way.  There is a multimedia show called The Malta Experience that I should probably go see while I’m here.  I have been told that of all the museums and historical/cultural shows, this is the best one.

We walked past a sign that said bocci club.  I stopped and commented that they play bocce (Italian spelling, pronounced BAH-chee) in Italy, and many Italian Americans play bocce.  I wondered aloud if bocce was Italian (as I had thought) or Maltese.  Zeppi said, “Maltese!  Maltese!”  I asked him if he plays bocce, but he said no.  It doesn’t surprise me because bocce is a very social game, involving gambling and probably drinking.  Most men who play it are very gregarious—just the opposite of Zeppi.

We prayed, walking through the center of Parliament Square, claiming it for the dance team.  This was the second time that I had done this, so I believe that if they want to do it, the dancers could dance in the square next time.

Then we walked back to the Prayer Center.  It was 4AM, and the rest of the night dragged on endlessly.  Mi Kyong curled up on a pillow, while Zeppi went to the kitchen to heat up another plate of pasta.  I put on some worship music, grabbed a set of little ceramic drums, and tried to keep time, but the beat kept slipping away.  At one point I dozed off and the drumstick slipped from my hand and clattered to the floor.  I jumped awake, thinking that I had dropped and broken the drums, but my left hand still held them tightly—which is surely a miracle.  I carefully set the drums on the floor and got up to pace instead.  But I was so physically wiped out that I considered grabbing a pillow and following Mi Kyong’s example.  I went to the kitchen and made myself a cup of tea, but cut it with cold water because even with the cooler night temperature, hot tea was not what I wanted.  Lukewarm tea failed to revive me, and it was clear that only several hours of sleep would fix what was wrong with me.

So sitting, standing, pacing, sitting again, all the time listening to worship music and trying to pray—this was how I passed the rest of the night.  When 6AM came, Mi Kyong and I discussed whether to go catch a bus back to the house.  Zeppi assured us that he would stay and keep watch until the morning shift arrived, which would be in about an hour.

I got about 6 hours of much-needed sleep.  When I woke up, the dance team was preparing to go to the Prayer Center for dinner, then on to teach a Prophetic Dance class at a local church.  I went with them on the ferry again.  After dinner, some of the overnighters were left, while others went with us to the church.  The class was great, and again included lots of children.  It was lots of fun, but I was simply too physically tired to do very much, so I left early and returned to the house.

One of the attendees at the dance class commented on how dance is frowned upon by her church.  It made me think of the story of David and Michal, and how she criticized him for dancing with joy because of bringing the ark back to Jerusalem.  Honestly, I would rather be a David than a Michal.  God is good!  I’ll sing it, I’ll dance it, and even drum it in my sleep!  God is good!

A Delightful Day Trip

My houseguests came to Italy from Czech Republic to attend a prophetic prayer conference, but they made use of their free time to do a bit of tourism.  I generally help guests get oriented and figure out how to find what they’re looking for, but mostly I leave them to go visit the castle, the cathedral and other tourist sites without me.  However, my friends Rose and Piotr invited me to come with them to visit Como.  I hadn’t been to Como for several years, and it is a very nice place to visit, so we packed a picnic lunch and I went with them.

We arrived at Como’s San Giovanni station.  Como has 4 or 5 train stations.  I picked San Giovanni because it is above the city, and from it you enter the city through a nice park.  From there we walked to the lakeside park where the monument to Alexander Volta stands, looking very much like a giant Duracell battery.  Ducks approached us quacking for a handout, but we had come empty-handed.

We walked back toward the marina under a canopy of trees so thick that it was like walking in the shade of an arcade gallery.  As we passed the marina, I pointed out that it is possible to take a boat tour of Lake Como.  They decided that it was going to take too much of our time, and so declined—much to my relief.  If they had wanted to do the boat tour, I would have waited for them on solid ground in a coffee shop.  It’s true, I’m not a big fan of boats.  I will ride boats when necessary, but it’s really not my idea of a fun time.  I know that lots of people love sailing, love boating, kayaking, canoeing, but they can have it.

From there we walked to the cathedral where we enjoyed the naturally cool interior, and then we went for a coffee.  The waiter spoke English and entertained us with his shtick for foreign visitors.

Then we went up the funicular railway to the top of the hill overlooking the lake and the city of Como.  The view going up was spectacular.  At the top we found a shady bench and ate our picnic lunch, enjoying the beautiful view and the lovely day.  Piotr pointed across the lake and asked me if the city in the valley was Chiasso, Switzerland.  I said, “I don’t know.  It could be.”  When we found a detailed satellite map, we discovered that it was, indeed Chiasso.  I asked him how he could possibly have known that that was Chiasso.  He shrugged and said, “It was a train to Chiasso, and that looked like it must be the next stop for the train.”

We walked along the narrow street to the scenic overlook at Fonte Pissarottino, which means fountain of Pissarottino.  The fountain did not have drinkable water, and had a marble sign reading “Porta fortuna,” meaning that the water brings good luck.  I translated the sign for them and said, “Of course, we’re blessed, so we don’t need luck.”  The views over Lake Como are all stunning, and this was certainly beautiful.  Then Rose and Piotr wanted to climb even farther up the hill to the lighthouse, Faro Voltiano.  I decided that they could do the climb in the full sun of the afternoon without my help.  So I waited for them at the coffee shop by the Funicular and did one of my favorite activities, people watching.  A tortoise-shell cat came to me, looking for some love.  Since I can’t resist cats, I naturally complied.  With a satisfied meow, he sauntered off to look for a good spot to nap.  Soon after that a big puppy that had slipped off his leash came wagging over to me.  I petted him with one hand and grabbed his collar with the other.  When a girl about 9-10 years old came running up, I handed him over to her.  She was very relieved to have him back.  The rest of the family came running, and made a big fuss over the dog, putting him back onto the leash.  The puppy just continued to wag, enjoying the chaos he had caused.

When Rose and Piotr found me in the shade of the café umbrella they confirmed what I had suspected: that it was a hard climb to the lighthouse in the full sun for very little payoff.  I smiled, thinking that with age (experience) comes wisdom.

We took the train back to Milan from the Como Nord station, which is not far from the bottom of the funicular.  It had been a beautiful day, and a pleasant day trip.  I called it an early night (about 9:30), and we all slept very well.  God is good!

This is Your Chance to Shine!

Day Ten

As I was praying, the Lord reminded me of my Jesus dream.  I am certain that I have written about it, but maybe I didn’t because I can’t find it anywhere (very strange!).  If I haven’t ever written about it, then it’s time for me to write about my Jesus dream—especially now that I’ve written about those devil dreams.

It was winter/spring 2006, and I was living in Italy with my husband and younger son, Kevin, who was in his senior year of high school at the American School of Milan.  I dreamed that I entered a crowded Italian coffee shop.  Across the room there was a young man.  He was nice looking, with wavy dark hair, sturdy build, average height.  He smiled at me, and that smile changed him from average looking to someone I could hardly take my eyes off of.  His smile lit up his face and the room.  He crossed the room and spoke to me in English, which surprised me.  Actually, both things surprised me: crossing the room to talk to me and speaking to me in English.

He said, “What do you do?” and I told him that I teach English.  At the time I was teaching English to children, earning money so that I could tithe to the work of God.  So I said, “And what do you do?”  He said, “Come, I’ll show you.”

We left the coffee shop and went to an apartment nearby.  In real life, I would never, ever go into an apartment with someone I’ve just met, but there was something about him that told me I could trust him.  In all honesty, it didn’t even enter my mind to wonder if I should go in with him.

The apartment had wood paneled walls—and such wood as I had never seen before.  The wood had deep, well-defined grain and was luminous.  It was the most alive wood I had ever seen, and it was beautiful, warm, and inviting.  Three of the walls were wooden and fourth was stucco, and by contrast seemed cold and dead.  I said, “You did this?”  He smiled and said, “Yes.  What do you call this kind of work in Italian?”  I answered: “Restaurazione” (restoration)—pronouncing the word perfectly for the first and only time in my life (with practice I taught myself to roll my r’s, but my tongue can’t or won’t to roll that second one).

I pointed to the stucco wall and said, “And what about this one?”  He reached up and pulled away a chunk of stucco.  Behind it was wood, but it was dirty, dried-out, and badly in need of care.  He looked at me and smiled, “It’s a work in progress.”

That’s when I woke up, knowing: It’s Jesus, the Carpenter!  And I realized that I was that work in progress.

That dream helped me a lot because in a few months I had several things happen that sent me into the worst depression of my life, lasting over 3 years—not the least of which was my failing marriage.

While writing about the devil dreams, I thought about this Jesus dream, but like I said, I thought that I had already written about it.  In fact, I was sure of it because I remember adding the link to show what Jesus looks like.  But maybe that was only a dream, too.  Who knows?  Anyway, now that you’re curious, here’s the link: Jesus.  In my dream, Jesus had dark brown eyes and was clean-shaven, but otherwise, it is recognizably Him.

While praying this morning, I felt like God was smiling at me.  I didn’t really ask why, but just wondered, and then I remembered the dream, and especially that funny part where He asked me what His work was called in Italian.  Jesus is in the restoration business!  But why did He ask me what it’s called in Italian?  He told me: “To give you a chance to shine.”  Spoken like a proud parent!  God is good!  And Jesus is our handsome bridegroom!

The Bulgarian Rose

Yesterday the team of intercessors with Operation Capitals of Europe (OCE) arrived in Sofia to pray for the city and the country.  Yesterday the government also resigned.  Often when we pray in a capital, there will be physical consequences.  Like one time we prayed at one city’s walls, praying specifically into the foundation of the city, and a week later the whole area was cordoned-off and excavation began into the city’s foundation.  But the government’s resignation is the first time that a physical consequence occurred before team prayer began.

Today started with breakfast at a café owned by a man from the local church.  Breakfast was followed by worship at the church.  This church is both hosting strategic prayer and worship sessions and collaborating with us to pray for their city.  There was about 40 or 50 people who joined us for this first session.  Having such a big crowd right from the start was very encouraging because it is always better the more locals who join us.  Sometimes the team has outnumbered the local intercessors, and it has become quite a challenge because as OCE becomes known, more people have joined with us from all over Europe.  The evening session had an even bigger crowd, as the young people and the working people joined us.

Between the two sessions we had two hours of free time, so we went into the city center.  We saw the big golden statue of Sofia, goddess of wisdom.  There is a drinking fountain near her where in order to drink, you have to bow your head to the statue.  Standing in front of the statue, you can see an Orthodox church, a Mosque, and just the other side of the Mosque is a Synagogue.  This idol is an example of a place that is likely to be chosen to pray at.

Then we went down into the subway station.  When they were digging the subway tunnels, they came across the ruins of old Sofia dating to the time when this was part of the Roman Empire.  The ruins were preserved within the subway station.  Part of the ruins in the subway is the original Eastern Gate to the city.  City gates are also places that are likely to be chosen to pray at.

While in the subway we found several souvenir shops, and many of us, being foreigners, wanted to look for keepsakes and gifts.  One shop had all sorts of rose products.  The rose is the symbol of Bulgaria, so a rose product like soap or perfume is also likely to be used in prayer as an object to show prayers for Bulgaria.

I keep saying “likely” because it all depends on the leading of the Holy Spirit, and He is unpredictable, even when you’re very well acquainted with Him and His ways.

The evening session included members of the OCE team praying for the local people who came forward for prayers.  The language barrier made things a bit challenging, but there were a few people there who could be found to interpret.  I prayed for a couple who are pastors asked for prayer together.  After praying for them I told them (through an interpreter) that I felt like they were mother and father to their church, and that the people go to mother for comfort and to father for wisdom; and that they have lots of spiritual children.  They told the interpreter to tell me that they were never able to have children, so this was a wonderful word from God.

Another woman I prayed for was very elderly.  As I prayed for her I saw a beautiful green field with a river running through it.  By the river was a big tree and the tree was full of fruit.  I told her (through an interpreter) that although she is old, God says that she will continue to bear fruit for the Kingdom for as long as she wants to do so.  Her response was not interpreted for me, but mostly it was just hugs and kisses.  At the end of the evening, she came to me to hug and kiss me some more.

Then on the way back to the hostel I saw that one of my teammates seemed troubled.  She talked out her problem, and then we prayed.  I told her that I really value her contribution to the team, and that it seemed like it was mostly a conflict of personal styles.  After prayer she was able to understand that she really is a valued member of the team.  I think part of the reason why she was feeling troubled by this now is because another teammate who has a ministry and style similar to hers became very badly ill just before the trip and had to cancel.

Please pray for missionaries!  We are on the frontline of battle.  The enemy was able to sideline our teammate, and then tried to make another doubt her value to the team.  He would love to stop what we are doing because we are winning back territory that has been his for centuries.  For those of you who are praying, thank you and God bless you!  Please know that you are a vital member of our team, even if you’re not here with us.  Your prayers are making a difference!

Buckaroo

Greetings from Bulgaria!

As my plane was landing, I could see that Sofia is a beautiful city, and seeing it on the ground confirmed what I had seen from the air.  I am staying with Buck and Nadia, pastors who God had led to leave their church and town to move three hours away to Sofia, but not to start another church.  What they had always done is church planting, but here God is calling out of their comfort zone.  While they are wondering what to do, Nadia has been working prostitutes and other trafficked people.

I met Nadia at a conference in Estonia in October, and we had hit it off.  So when Operation Capitals of Europe set Sofia as their next capital, I contacted Nadia.  She invited me to come for a few days before the start of OCE.  I think this was divine timing.

Last night Buck and Nadia had some friends over and invited me to a Christian musical that had been locally written and produced.  The friends are a couple: Anya is Bulgarian and Sasha (which is a male name) is Russian, and they are both dancers.  The conversation was mostly in Bulgarian.  My ears grasped at a few familiar sounding words, but mostly it sounded very much like Russian.  Buck ordered pizza from Domino’s, and I saw pretty much everyone put ketchup or mustard on their pizza—even my fellow Texan!  I tried mustard on mine, and it was really good!  I would never put mustard on an Italian pizza, but it’s good on American pizza.

Seeing that my plate was empty, Buck asked me if I wanted another slice, to which I responded, “No, I’m good.”  He laughed about how funny it is to say “I’m good” when refusing seconds.  I told him about trying to explain the Texanism “fixin to” to non-Texans, and how I had had to train myself to use the more universally understood “I’m getting ready to.”  He laughed.  He could relate.  Now I keep hearing myself saying “I’m good,” when I had always said it unconsciously.  But as I thought about it, it’s kind of a nice affirmation to say about myself several times a day.  I am good!

The musical was called “John, Son of Thunder.”  Of course, it was all in Bulgarian, and set in modern times, but it wasn’t hard to follow along, since I have read the Gospels.  The music and dancing were really great, and the set design was imaginative.  The audience was most of the spectrum of Sofia’s Christian community, and they pretty much all know each other.  I commented on how nice it was to see Christians of all denominations coming together like this—it’s only really happened in Milan with the March for Jesus.

This morning I woke up to snow falling, but it hasn’t stuck.  For me, snowfall is always a miracle from Heaven.  Who know what God has in store for us today?  But I know this:  He’s good, and whatever He has for us will be good, too.  I’ll say it again: God is good!

Blessing We Are Blessed

I’ve just had friends, Doug and Jane, come to visit me from Poland on their way to Spain.  I was hoping that during their visit they could help me with information for the next Feast of Tabernacles.  Worship groups from all over Europe come and bring praise in their own languages—and this continues 24 hours a day for the 7 days of the Feast.  Ever since attending Tabernacles two years ago, it has been my desire to bring an Italian worship team.  In my small way, I did bring Italian worship, singing in Italian when I heard a song I know in Italian.  But it’s not the same.

Doug and Jane did more for me than just provide the necessary information.  They are people who understand my calling and desire to encourage missionaries.  They brought gifts, designed to encourage: books, magazine, and newspaper in English, a pretty coaster with the words, “The Lord is faithful,” a pretty shopping bag in a traditional brightly colored Polish design, and tasty wafers for which Kalisz is famous.  Their visit was so encouraging.  I felt very pampered and loved.

They wanted to see the city, but not the traditional tourist spots.  It was such fun to take them to the places that I consider special, and let them see my Milan.  They also wanted to meet my friends.  They met Paula, who worked for me by buying the furnishings to make the apartment livable—not just livable, but very comfortable.  And they met Sally, the mastermind behind GoMissions (http://gomissions.eu/).  Doug and Jane also encouraged Paula and Sally.  It was a wonderful few days of friendship, prayer, networking, and strategizing.  But it was also a fun time, eating delicious food, talking, laughing, and relaxing.

Through Doug and Jane’s visit, I was able to see how my visits to missionaries encourage them.  Even encouragers need encouragement from time to time!  God is good!

A Divine Appointment

Yesterday was a very full day of travel.  I started from Florence, where I had stayed the night with missionary friends, and went from there to the Abruzzo region on the Adriatic coast.  By choosing the less expensive, regional trains, I had to change trains twice.  The regional trains are less expensive because they are older and they stop in all the stations along the way.  So, travel which could have taken only a few hours, took six instead.  But the nice thing about slower travel is that I can catch a nice nap on the train, which I did.  I have learned not to fight the sleepy feeling if I don’t absolutely have to, and last night was a perfect example why.

When I arrived in Pescara, I went to the bus stop for the bus that would take me to the house of Bob and his family (Bob is the missionary there who I house-sat for during the last 2 summers—which you can read about in my book “Look, Listen, Love”).  I know other missionaries there, but because of the brevity of my visit, I hadn’t planned on visiting for more than a brief coffee or at least a phone call.  But God had other things in mind for me.

Not long ago, while I was still in North Carolina, I was inspired to start praying daily for divine appointments—both for myself and for my fellow missionaries.  As soon as I arrived I got a phone call from Betty, who had heard from Bob that I was arriving.  She and her husband are the other missionaries I had hoped to see, at least briefly.  She said, “Do you know Daisy of Rebirth Ministries?”  I told her that Daisy is a missionary I pray for daily, who I met at my home church in Milan a few years ago.  She told me that Daisy is in town for a women’s conference, and that if I wanted to go, she would come pick me up.  Of course I leapt at the opportunity.  I hadn’t seen Daisy for over a year, and had heard that she had moved to Rome.  This cut short my visit to Bob & his family, but we had a nice meal together and in our brief visit he caught me up on all the things that they are doing and things to be praying about.

Then after dinner, Betty, Daisy, and I went to the women’s conference.  Daisy is the founder of Rebirth Ministries, which helps stop domestic violence.  The focus of Rebirth is not only on educating and caring for women and children, but also on helping the abusers (which are not always men) to overcome rage issues and to find better ways of interacting than using fists.  Although the conference took place in a church, there were also women there, invited by friends, who were not believers.

Daisy shared her vision for Rebirth Ministries, and her personal story.  Daisy is from Argentina, and was twice widowed—one husband was one of the famed Desaparecidos “disappeared” persons, who was arrested and then simply vanished, never to be heard from again.  Alone, she raised two daughters and was called to Italy in 1994.  However, she didn’t immediately come to Italy, but prayed for Italy first, learned the language, and finished university.  During this time, the issue of domestic violence came to her attention.  When she put the call and the issue together, she understood why God wanted her in Italy, and so she came, forming Rebirth Ministries as a non-profit that meets in churches and schools throughout Italy.  The next step will likely be to bring Rebirth to the prisons.

In Italy, the danger of violence from strangers is very low, but domestic violence is unfortunately very high.  The police in bigger cities are beginning to respond to domestic calls, but in the small towns, they are still reluctant to interfere in “family” issues.  And even when the police arrest the abuser, the victim rarely maintains the courage to press charges, preferring to continue to try and make the marriage work.  In Italy, there is still a lot of shame attached to the issue of domestic violence because of the Catholic Church’s stance on divorce.  Italian women are encouraged by their priests to stay in abusive marriages, and often feel like failures if they cannot make the marriage work, make their husband stop drinking or using drugs, or stop seeking the company of other women.  And even among Protestant churches in Italy there is a lot of shame attached to divorce because the vast majority of Protestants in Italy are former Catholics.

One thing that Daisy shared was that many times when she speaks to groups like the one last night, someone invariably says, “But why Italy?  Surely domestic violence is a problem in Argentina, too.”  She admitted that it is, but much headway has been made in Argentina by others, whereas in Italy there is still much work to do.  As she spoke, I realized (not for the first time) that Daisy does have a true call to Italy.  She is being used mightily of God.

After Daisy spoke, Betty suggested that each person from the group give Daisy a brief word of feedback.  The overwhelming response was positive, and one young woman shared her story of abuse for the first time in her life.  It was very moving to see her tears, but also to hear the relief in her voice at finally being free to speak of it.  And the most beautiful thing of all was that this young woman was not a believer, but now that she has seen the love of Jesus in action, I have no doubt that she will make a decision for Christ.  Daisy spoke and prayed with her afterward, and arranged for follow-up counseling and care with the local church.

In a private moment I told Daisy about my personal observation that following Jesus always costs you something (He spoke of it in Matthew 19:29).  I told her that for me the cost is having left my adorable grandson.  But I encouraged her, saying, “But God always compensates me in the sweetest ways.  The first time I saw my grandson, when he was two months old, he laughed for the very first time—with his grandma!  And this visit, at eighteen months, he said ‘Grandma!’ for the very first time.  He sees his other grandma almost every day, but he called me Grandma first!”  Daisy was well able to relate because both of her daughters and all four of her grandchildren are far away in South America—the most recent was born two months premature just a week ago.  He weighs only one kilo—about two and a quarter pounds.  She is going to Brazil to visit Pedro, her newest grandson, next week.