After returning from Biella, I chatted on Facebook with my dear friend, Angelica. Suki and I visited Angelica at her home last year after Tony Anthony’s visit to nearby Modena (which I wrote about in last year’s post Encouragement from Above). From that visit was born a very deep and dear friendship. Angelica is one of those people who God has put into my life to encourage me, so visiting her was one of my priorities upon returning to Italy.
Angelica is Albanian by birth, so I wanted to tell her the exciting news about going to Tirana to pray for Albania with Operation Capitals of Europe, about Bogdan (her countryman) going with us, and especially about taking Albanian worship to the Feast of Tabernacles in Poland in October (all of which I wrote about in my last post Surprises).
Here’s our Facebook chat, after we set up a day & time for me to visit:
Angelica: can you stay here till sunday afternoon ?
only, if you can
Me: No, I can only stay for the day.
Angelica: ah ok
Me: But we can plan for a longer visit sometime
Angelica: would be great !
Me: I have something exciting to tell you!
Angelica: wow ! I can’t wait.
Me: But I want to tell you in person.
Angelica: good
Me: See you tomorrow!
Angelica: I have something good for you too…
you will like it a lot
Me: We will both have to wait
Angelica: hehehe yeah
I was so excited about telling Angelica my news that her surprise for me was almost completely eclipsed. I must admit, this is also what I do with any surprise. I am like a little kid when it comes to surprises and gifts, I get very excited and can’t think about anything else (if you notice, I’m also that way about the coming Rapture!). So what I do to enable myself to function is that I deliberately make myself forget that there is a surprise coming. This time it was so effective that I literally had forgotten all about it until after the lovely meal Angelica had prepared for me. First, I told her my surprise, about going to Albania and taking Albanian worship to the Feast of Tabernacles in October. Then she told me her surprise for me: she has talked to her pastor about having me speak at the Women’s Retreat in June. The pastor countered with an invitation that I speak briefly this coming Wednesday at the Women’s Tea.
This is a fabulous opportunity to encourage a local body of believers. I have never been invited to speak to any church or church group in Italy (or anywhere in Europe) before, not even my own home church in Milan. Of course, I said that I would do it.
After I returned home, Angelica wrote to me that her pastor said she had already gotten a speaker for the Women’s Retreat. The disappointment that she felt was obvious. However, a lot can happen between now and June. I have already prayed that if God wants me to speak at the retreat that He will open the door for me. I feel peace about it. After all, it’s out of my hands now. If God wants me to speak there, then nobody can stop me. Still, I am invited to speak on Wednesday evening at the Women’s Tea. So I have been praying for the guidance of the Holy Spirit about what to speak about. I have an idea what He wants me to talk about, but I always leave room for the Holy Spirit to flow and say whatever He will through me.
It’s possible that the pastor doesn’t really have someone else, and is just putting Angelica off to take the pressure off until she’s heard me speak. But whatever the case may be, I feel at peace about it because I have put the whole matter into God’s hands. I just want to be His instrument to bring healing, hope, and encouragement to these women, whether it’s only on Wednesday or also in June. God is good!
Tag Archives: guitar
Surprises
I have just gotten back home to Italy almost two weeks ago. After a four month absence, I had several things that had to be taken care of immediately. Once those things were taken care of, I could do my favorite thing: visiting the people who are important to me. These are dear friends who pray for me daily. I do the same when I’m in the US, but sometimes I have to be content with a phone call, mailing a card, or sending e-mail because of the vast distances involved—I have praying friends in the US on both coasts and from north to south, so going to visit is not always an option.
My first visit was to my favorite church in the whole world: the church of Biella. Biella is a small city north of Turin, and this church has the friendliest people of any church anywhere. They actually argue over whose turn it is to host me. The pastor is a good friend of many years, and his preaching is so full of the Holy Spirit anointing that nobody could ever complain that going to church is boring.
Last year the church bought a bar. What they call a bar in Italy is as much a coffee shop and sandwich joint as it is a bar, and more than that, it functions as a meeting place where often you can also enjoy live music. So when friends decide to get together for a coffee, they will go to their local bar. The church’s bar is far more than a typical Italian bar because in addition to indoor and outdoor coffee shop space, it has two big rooms with tables for eating (with a foosball table for the kids in the room farthest back), a good-sized courtyard and beyond that, a large gravel bocce court.
When I told Felicity about going to Biella (she and the core of Biella’s worship group came with me in September to bring Italian worship to the Feast of Tabernacles in Kalisz, Poland), she wanted to come, too. I admit, I told Felicity, hoping that she would come with me. I travel alone most of the time, and I’m fine traveling alone. But having the company of a dear friend is so much better. So Felicity brought her guitar, and it turns out that God had an assignment for us at the church’s bar.
But first there was a divine appointment on the train. The train to Biella can go either to Novara and change or to Santhia and change. Either way takes about the same amount of time. I usually go by way of Santhia because it costs something like twenty cents less, and I used to be a coupon-clipping housewife, so twenty cents saved is something I appreciate. When I bought the train tickets, I had on my walking glasses and not my reading glasses, so I didn’t notice that the tickets said via Novara. The conductor pointed it out as he checked our tickets just past Novara, so we were already committed to going by way of Santhia. If I had noticed, I would have made sure that we changed trains in Novara, but I hadn’t. But that turned out to be not so much because of the wrong glasses as it was a divine appointment on the train from Santhia to Biella. I had seen a woman get on the train and ask in Italian if it was the train to Biella. She sat by herself near where Felicity and I sat. We were speaking English, and as an American, her ears perked up. When she heard Felicity say something about music, she couldn’t keep to herself anymore. It turns out that she is a singer/songwriter and she’s touring, playing in bars all around Italy. We spoke to her about our faith and she was so touched that she gave Felicity a couple of CD’s.
We arrived in Biella around lunch time, but everyone who usually picks me up from the train station was busy, so Pastor Fabio sent Silvestro to pick us up. I had never met Silvestro before, and he had only enough time to take us from the train station to the church’s bar, then he had to go because his son was getting married in a couple of days. It wasn’t until I talked to Giuseppe (the bass player and leader of the worship team) that I put it all together: Giuseppe told me that his daughter is getting married in a couple of days . . . to Marco, who I then realized must be Silvestro’s son.
Anyway, Silvestro dropped us off at the bar and went to finish the wedding preparations. Pastor Fabio had told me that he wouldn’t be able to come pick us up from the bar until around 4 that afternoon. So Felicity and I enjoyed a nice piadina (sandwich wrap) in the sunny courtyard. Just as we were finishing lunch a man came into the bar who was very clearly drunk. He ordered a beer and sat near us, scrutinizing us because he had never seen us before. When he heard us speaking English with each other, he began interrupting. I don’t normally mind someone interrupting a conversation like that—in fact, it’s often a divine appointment, as with the woman on the train. But his interruptions became increasingly disruptive and we even noticed a hostile undertone to them.
Felicity looked at me and said, “I think we need to do some spiritual battle.” So she pulled out her guitar and started to sing praise songs. I immediately felt like I should be dancing, but aware of how weird my holy dancing looks, I hesitated. But then I got up and danced, and I felt the flow of the Holy Spirit as I danced and Felicity played. I sang along with her, sometimes in counterpoint, sometimes in harmony. The drunk tried several times to stop our worship, but seeing that we were not going to stop, he gave up. He went inside and came back out with another beverage: water! He made a few feeble efforts at stopping the worship, but his heart wasn’t in it.
Please understand something: the decision to do spiritual battle was not against the man.
For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms. Ephesians 6:12
We recognized the spiritual forces at work in his drunken combativeness. As we worshiped, he settled down—an outward sign of the enemy retreat. At that, Felicity began singing in Italian so that the man could understand that we were singing about Jesus. Because silencing the enemy was not the entire point, sharing the love of Jesus was! But we couldn’t do that until we had the enemy silenced.
Giuseppe told me that he is taking the whole Biella worship team to Poland in October for this year’s Feast of Tabernacles. He didn’t invite me, and I didn’t expect him to. I felt like I was the midwife who helped this baby be born, but now that it was walking, the baby didn’t need me anymore.
Upon our return to Milan, Felicity told me that I should tell Bogdan about my upcoming trip to Albania. Bogdan is Albanian and he is very committed to praying for his country. She also said that he would probably be interested in going to the Feast of Tabernacles as Albanian worship. So she set up a meeting with Bogdan for the next day, and I told him first about going to Tirana to pray for the capital, and then I told him about Tabernacles, and how there was no Albanian worship there. He was very excited about both prospects, checked his calendar, and found that both time periods were open. So it looks like I will be midwife now to Albanian worship at the Feast of Tabernacles. God is good!
Worshiping in Prime Time
We gathered for prayer half an hour before our prime time worship: 8-10 PM, but had some trouble finding a place to pray in peace. The church’s prayer rooms had been taken over by nursing mothers with their babies and small children. They needed a quiet corner, too. I understand. So we went to the sanctuary to look for a quiet place there. But being prime time, there were people all over the place, in every little corner, even in the coat room.
Then Giuseppe suggested the music storage room. It’s small and crowded with instruments, but it’s just big enough and quiet enough to do the trick. So we crammed in there and prayed together that our worship would truly glorify God, and that we ourselves would stay humble and submitted to Him. Amen. And we got briefly drunk in the Holy Spirit, laughing like idiots.
Then Giuseppe looked around. There’s a problem. Where is the bass guitar? It wasn’t there! Then we discovered that the electric guitar was also missing. We did eventually manage to find a bass guitar, and just did without the electric guitar.
Giuseppe, as musical director, had Daniele take the acoustic guitar, and Felicity concentrate on singing. Her voice is very sweet, but sometimes it’s a bit tentative and often hard to hear. Perhaps it was because she didn’t have a guitar in her hands that her voice was stronger, and being stronger, it was lovely and lost none of its sweetness.
As worship leader, Felicity made no song list this time, deciding just to wing it and see what songs the Holy Spirit leads us to do. This led to long pauses between songs, and songs that repeated and repeated and repeated. I don’t know how the musicians felt, but it was sort of driving me crazy. It had the same effect on Bethany, who tried suggesting songs when we seemed to be stuck for a direction. But when a direction was found, it was wonderful.
During one of the livelier songs, I pulled out a couple of whistles and handed one to a boy that was dancing near us, while I blew the other. He was hesitant at first, but then blew the whistle with great gusto. A big fellow seated in the front, right in front of me, got up during a lively song and started to dance just like Dancing Bear on Captain Kangaroo (for those old enough to remember). Then he grabbed a tambourine and started keeping time with the music. Several young girls picked up flags and started dancing and waving flags. I love it when we share a moment like that. It was such fun!
There was a definite anointing, which everybody felt. That made the two hours fly by before we even knew it. When the next group came in and started to set up, I felt such deep disappointment at having to stop that I didn’t even want to go back to the hotel to sleep. The big fellow hugged me and thanked me for the worship session. All thanks and glory and praise goes to God! 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!
Dancing in the Park
I had no sooner posted that last piece when Miki, leader of the dance team, came to me. She said that as she was showering she was thanking God for sending an intercessor (me!) to pray for the team. And God told her, “No, she’s a dancer.”
My jaw just fell open. It seems that He’s calling me back to dance. He’s got to do quite a bit of physical restoration to do that, but He is God of Restoration. We walked to the ferry dock with my head swimming at the thought.
I generally don’t like boats very much, but the ferry crossing was really nice. The water is the cleanest harbor water I have ever seen—or smelled! It’s a pretty deep teal color, and there is no oily scum or floating trash that I’ve always associated with harbor water. Here’s how clean the water is in Valletta harbor: I would actually swim in it! I haven’t, but I would.
On the other side we took the elevator to the park high over the harbor. Up there we found Herbie, the guitarist. He grinned at us, “I had a good morning! I did some busking, made some money.” He had his guitar and a battery-powered amp with him. He was clearly on a high from his successful morning.
I watched the team’s backpacks and prayed while they went to pray and Herbie went to look for a plug to recharge his amp. Herbie came back at 2, the appointed start time. He was grinning again. He had found a plug in the Indian Embassy waiting room. Inexplicably, they had not chased him off. Well, not inexplicable, really because I had been praying for him to find a place to plug in.
Herbie warmed up the crowd with a Christian song, done in his own smooth jazz style. People grabbed their phones, cameras, and tablets and started filming or taking pictures. Then the dancers did a hip-hop number that looked like a lot of fun. Herbie played a song or 2 in between each dance set. Then a bunch of about 10 junior high school kids came along. One boy started in mocking the dancers and tried to get the others to mock, too. A couple of other boys did, but half-heartedly. A couple of girls started dancing a little where they were, and after a while Miki invited them to join in the dance, and they did. They were clearly having a lot of fun, and a friend filmed them with her tablet. They stepped back into the group when the song was over, but stayed to listen to Herbie sing and play. They joined into the next dance even more enthusiastically.
Meanwhile, people came by and put coins in Herbie’s open bag. I saw one man come by and carefully put in about €5 worth of coins. Later another man put a €10 bill in Herbie’s bag. Herbie had a good day!
Then the dancers did a dance with streamers and the mocking boy made a grab for Miki’s streamer. She gave it to him, and he danced with it, and with some degree of grace and style. Then the kids announced that they had to go. The 2 girls that had danced hugged each of the dancers and said good-bye, waving to the rest of us. It was a really sweet moment.
Because of my duties in watching the backpacks and helping set up the music, I wasn’t able to get around to talk to very many people. But I did get to talk briefly with one lady who was visiting from Australia.
It was a fun afternoon. And I got another message from God about dancing, this time from Carrie, a Maltese believer who had come to support the dance team. Carrie said to me: “You should get out there and dance with them.” I said, “What on earth made you say that?” She said, “I don’t know!”
Well, I do know: it was God! I guess He’ll show me how He wants me to proceed. God is good!
Tunisia, Italy, and the Dark Waters
Malta sits in the middle of the Mediterranean Sea. From this vantage point, we have been appointed to pray for the nations surrounding the Mediterranean. I was drawn to pray for Tunisia, and was surprised to read on the prayer sheet that Tunisia had served as the launching point for taking Islam into Northern Africa.
While praying for Tunisia, specifically among other things that it would serve as a launching point for taking Christ into Northern Africa and beyond, into all the Islamic world. Then as I prayed I looked at the floor map and noticed that Tunisia is shaped like a keyhole. So I prayed for Tunisia to open the door to bring Christ into the Islamic world.
As I prayed more, I noticed also that Tunisia looks like the blade of a knife, cutting between Algeria and Libya. So I prayed that Tunisia would cut, dividing Islamic Northern Africa, breaking the Islamic hold in that region of the world.
Then as I heard the worship music, I began to dance on the floor map of Tunisia. In dancing, I finally felt that familiar shift in the spirit that tells me that my prayers have been heard. And looking at Tunisia again, I noticed that from the southern point of Tunisia (the knife blade); it looks like a big crack running between Algeria and Libya. Yes, a big crack! Hallelujah! Crack the hard nut of Islamic North Africa!
Our host, Dave, shared this morning the vision he had had of a lighthouse on Malta, but instead of a light bulb, there was a flame. And as it shined, it sent sparks that set little fires blazing all around the Mediterranean. I had a similar vision of a lighthouse, setting off sparks as it shined its light. In both cases, we understood the vision to mean revival.
Malta is a strategic place, sitting as it does, in the middle of the Mediterranean Sea. Another vision that Dave had was of a great light entering the Mediterranean Sea at the Straits of Gibraltar, and crossing the sea (moving west), via the island stepping stones of Malta and Cyprus; finally arriving in Israel. So again on the floor map we prayed and danced on the stepping stones: Gibraltar to Malta to Cyprus to Israel.
On a personal note, Dave shared a health concern about his newborn daughter. He and Sharon (our hosts) were told that she has a rare disorder in which 2 facial nerves are missing, which makes her unable to nurse, show facial expression, or control her eyes. Dave researched the condition and found that worldwide there are only about 3000 cases, none of which has ever been cured. We prayed for little Bonnie, that God would do a creative miracle, putting the missing nerves in the place where they should be. We also declared that this creative miracle would show the doctors who the Great Physician is, and turn their heart to the only One who can truly heal body, soul, and spirit.
As the night approached, I decided to go outside my comfort zone. I signed up to do the first overnight shift of our 2 weeks of continuous prayer and worship in the MRPC (Mediterranean Regional Prayer Center). I am not a night person, and when my pillow calls, I have a very hard time resisting its siren song. But I had a cup of coffee at 10PM and went for it. Since the last bus back to the house leaves at 10, I was committed at that point.
Three of us stayed all night: Karl, the team leader; Molly, and me. A guitar player and a few local Maltese worshipers stayed for a while to help us get properly launched. We started in joyous worship, singing, dancing, and playing tambourines and bongos. Then we moved to more meditative worship and prayer. The Maltese had mostly gone by midnight, but the guitar player, Herbie, stayed. At 2AM we decided to go prayer walking. We locked up the Prayer Center and headed into the cool, still night. Lights twinkled off the water as we sought an open gate to the park overlooking the harbor. All the gates were locked, so we walked around the park and down to the harbor. On the way we passed a sleepy guard outside the Italian Embassy, and greeting him warmly. Of course, he looked at us as if we were crazy.
At the harbor we found the gate to the passenger ferry open, so we went in to sit on the bench there and pray while looking at the black night water as it played with the full moon’s reflection. The Transform teams from all the other countries had sent us prayer requests, so as Karl read each team’s prayer requests we took turns leading the prayer for them. It made me feel a real partnership with each team as they seek to take the Good News of Jesus into each of their countries in a variety of ways: Bible giveaways, puppetry, dance, street evangelism, etc.
When he came to Italy, Karl gave me the task of leading prayer for my chosen home country. The leader of this Italian team (there are 3 Italian teams in all) is a friend I’ve known and prayed for since practically the beginning of my time as a missionary in 2010. Giuseppe does clowning as a way of sharing Jesus. As I began to pray for him and his team, I could picture Giuseppe’s bright smile and imagine the laughter he brings with both his clown act and his message of real hope.
For those who are not intercessors or who have never tried praying for people in ministry, it can start out feeling like a burden, but soon becomes a pleasure, and a sweet burden. The best part is when you get reports back of how God has answered your prayers on behalf of the person you’re praying for. For me, praying for Giuseppe was the highlight of the night, although those prayers for the country of Tunisia were also pretty amazing.
Then as we finished up the requests for prayer, we decided to move on. Herbie said good night to us there and made his way back to where he had parked his car. We went to the top of a hill overlooking the harbor and watched a pilot boat and tug boat assist a big ferry through the harbor entrance and into port. It was surprising the speed that the big ferry was moving as it entered the harbor. The ferry made big waves that noisily splashed the rocks below us in a rhythm that reminded me of hands clapping. Karl had taught us back in Rome about the power of rhythmic handclapping and drumming as a prayer tool (see Bingo Bango Bongo!). I couldn’t stop smiling.
We continued our prayer walk into the center of Valletta and up to the Parliament Building. As we passed in front of St. John’s cathedral, it chimed the half hour: 3:30AM. The bell was very loud and startled us. At the Parliament Building, I felt the urge to go put my hand on the door as we prayed. I knew that there were probably security cameras trained on the door, but decided to go for it anyway. I was not chased away, but almost as soon as I had returned to the others, a jeep drove up and let out a guard who entered the building through the door that I had just touched. It was probably the night shift taking over. They saw us, but took no particular notice, since we were just sitting on a bench.
As we passed in front of the cathedral again, it chimed the hour: 4AM. Even though Karl warned us that it was coming, the loudness of the bell still startled us because it chimed exactly at the moment that we were passing in front of the bell tower.
When we returned to the Prayer Center Karl put on worship music. He chose wonderful songs, but not very lively. I grabbed a tambourine to keep myself awake, but found that my sleepy hands just couldn’t keep a rhythm. So I switched to the bongos, which felt better for a while. But while thumping them I felt myself slipping off into sleep. Molly later commented about how I had drummed in my sleep. Finally, I settled on an egg-shaker. I stood on the map of Malta, singing and shaking.
Finally it was 6AM, and the buses would be starting soon. Karl dismissed us, telling us that he would wait for the morning team and probably catch a nap upstairs when they arrived to take over.
On the way home, my sleep-deprived brain was terrified of missing our stop, so when I saw an area that looked familiar I ringed and we got off—probably 5 stops too soon. Molly was a very good sport about it. We both knew that the enemy would try to use that mistake to set us against each other, so we remained determined to stay united in love—and really, Molly gets all the credit for that, since it was my mistake.
God is good! Even when we blunder and cause problems for each other, God is always good!
A Clanging Cowbell
This last birthday the best present I got was from God: He gave me my singing voice. I’m not saying that I sing like Maria Callas or Judy Collins. I’m not even sure that I can sing on key, but now I have the courage and freedom to sing—into a microphone!—without fear, and that’s a miracle. You can read about it in my latest book, “Laughing in My Dreams,” available through Lulu.com (http://www.lulu.com/shop/alisa-k-brown/laughing-in-my-dreams/paperback/product-20585131.html).
This was at the Feast of Tabernacles (Sukkot) in Kalisz, Poland, where the local church celebrates in praise and worship 24 hours a day over 7 days. This past fall was my second time there, and for the second time, I was the lone representative of Italy—me, a foreign resident, representing Italy. But I did my best to represent Italy, bringing my Italian flag and singing as strongly as possible whenever I heard a song I know in Italian.
Upon returning home after my first time at Tabernacles I talked to a few local pastors and worship leaders about taking a team to represent Italy. The response was underwhelming, very discouraging. And after God gave me back the freedom to sing, I thought perhaps I would get a guitar and see if I could learn enough to represent Italy in worship from the platform. Interestingly enough, the first person I mentioned this to said that she had told her son just that morning that he should give me his guitar, since he no longer has time or the inclination to play. I have a guitar now—one that I’m too intimidated to even try to tune (not that I remember how to tune a guitar!).
While I was in the US for Christmas break I went to a music shop and bought a tambourine and a cowbell. My sons laughed at me for buying a cowbell, but I love the sound of cowbells. And I love the idea of keeping time with a cowbell instead of clapping hands. Plus, it’s small and easy to travel with, which is a definite plus in my traveling lifestyle.
It is the best cowbell ever–it says so right on the sticker!
When I returned to Italy, I mentioned once again (this time to Pastor Fabio) that I would like to bring an Italian worship group to Poland for Tabernacles. Unlike his reaction last year, this time he was very enthusiastic about the idea. I am hoping that everything works out, and that I can bring the worship group from the Biella church. But even if they don’t come, I will be there with my Italian flag, my cowbell, and my tambourine, representing Italy the best that I can.
Wafers that Doug & Jane (Blessing We Are Blessed) brought me–Kalisz is famous for them!
Walking By Faith in Europe 