Adjusting to Florence

        On thursday we had a night activity where we activated 100 glow sticks and spread them throughout the camp. The students were supposed to go out in the dark, and collect as many as they could for their team to gain points. We had done this before, only this time we added a new element to the routine. Dennis decided to tell them a story about The Ghost of the Old Mill Camp. The mill was once used as a mental institution, where there were many patients. There was once a man at the institution who was so crazy... he escaped into the woods surrounding the facility and was never found. It is assumed sometime later he died in the woods and has been wandering the grounds haunting people ever since. This eventually led to the condemnation of the facility, which was later given to the church and used as a church camp. It just so happens that this is the time of year when this ghost was notorious for his hauntings. Of course, none of this is true, but the stage had been set as we let the students out into the field. The lights illuminated the field as Dennis corralled them all into the center and told them to look into the light. Suddenly, the lights went black, and the students let out a shriek. I sat patiently in a bush; shaded from the moonlight, waiting for my opportunity to pounce on an unaware student. I was clothed in a suit that covered my entire body in black, making me completely invisible if I stood in front of a black backdrop. I placed a glow stick out in front of the bush where it was easily seen and would draw in one of the students. Just a short time later, a girl came jogging over to the glow stick. As she reached down to pick it up I made my move. I came out of the bush in a speed that said I had some business to attend to. At first the girl did not notice me, only heard the movement of the bushes. As she realized that there was a dark figure approaching her very fast, her eyes became large, stood up, and moved back; screaming. She turned away and flailed her arms. I pointed my flashlight at her and illuminated her as she sprinted across the field wailing in terror. The ghost had many victims that night, stealing glow sticks from the helpless students. At the end of the night there was a count to see who had collected the most sticks to advance their team. Turns out it was the ghost. 

        The rest of the camp went very well. I think we typically feel warn out toward the end of camp yet do not like the thought of leaving. We build quite a bond with the Italians. Our camp finished up on Friday night with a bonfire and testimonies. We sat outside until 2:00 am talking and worshiping. I ended up getting into bed at 3:15. In the morning we had a combined effort to clean the camp and make sure that everything was packed as we said our goodbyes and slowly, parents came to collect their children. 

        The missions train has departed from Naples and moved north to Florence. Amy, Laura, Micah, Dennis, Karen, and I purchased our tickets and sat in three separate locations on three separate train cars. The trip only took about an hour and a half, arriving in Florence with much of the day to spare.

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        As I write this paragraph, we have been in Florence for 1 week. We have really enjoyed being here. Laura and Amy have been with us for part of the first week, moving into their house after a few days of crashing at our apartment. Karen and I have come up with an eating plan and an exercise routine. We eat breakfast, a big lunch with pasta, and then a medium dinner with no pasta. Typically we are eating meat and vegetables in the evenings. 

Did I mention that I am also the resident portrait guy?

        We attended Florence Gospel Fellowship and met with our missionary friends, Tula and Maurizio Secundi. They have been keeping the church going the whole year and were telling us about the ways that God has been blessing their ministry. They are truly wonderful people. Some of the remaining students who have been serving for the year  with FGF led worship. One of the girls from Germany played piano and sang. A sweet and beautiful voice echoed off the hard surface of the church walls. The Piano was beautiful as it’s chorus reverberated out the large doors into the street. People came in little by little to join in the worship. It seemed that every time I would turn around there would be new people in the seats behind me. The church service was a little more un-structured than I am used to. Dennis, Amy, Laura, and I were called forward individually to update people on what we have been doing the past few weeks serving God in Italy and Uganda. It is always a grab bag of what is going to take place; you never know when you might be asked to speak. Maurizio preached a nice message. Toward the end of the service, we all gathered around the German girl and prayed over her because she was going back to Germany for good. She asked if she could sing, “just one more song”. Of course. One last time she massaged the ivory keys and sang her heart out with an audience of one in mind. After service we were all invited up into the room above the church where everyone enjoys chips, and soda. The announcement was made that we would be holding church services for the rest of August in the comfort of our air conditioned apartment. There was some excitement, yet some disappointment as well since many of the remaining students would be leaving that week as well to go back to their countries and loved ones. 

        The week went by. I assumed my duties as pack mule, dishwasher, exercise partner, washing machine, and maintenance man. I have gone on many walks; lugging my camera around looking for nice picture opportunities which I have not yet captured. Dennis and I have gone together to make sure the local pool has not gone out of business. We went again later in the week just to make sure. It would be a shame to neglect the sunlit tiles that surround the pool. When Thursday rolled around we made sure that all the remaining students knew to come to our apartment that night. We wanted to have a get-together and watch a movie. We had been entrusted with the projector of the church, and used it to our advantage; watching Despicable Me 2. We ended the night with the students by walking down to the Gelato place at the end of the street and treating them. We moved out of the Gelato shop and down the street to watch a street performer do his comedy act, then walked back to the apartment, said our goodbyes to the students, and joined the company of our pillows. 

        We have run into some of the street vendors that we used to talk to in years past. They are always excited to see us. I can only imagine what it would be like to sell things on the street. Imagine every day, going to work; sitting out in the heat with a piece of fabric spread out in front of you. All you have to offer is a bunch of cheap trinkets that you have to push on the tourist public so that you can make a meager wage. Every person that comes up to you wants to give you as little money as possible to get as much from you as they can. There is no casual talk, no joking, no smiles, only bartering and arguing over prices. I wonder what they go home to? Maybe they live in a tiny apartment that they have to share with other vendors from foreign countries who have to scrape a living. I wonder how many of them have families that are depending on the goods that they have to sell? What if they don't sell enough? I don't ever want to give one of those guys the impression that I don't care about them, or that they don't deserve a compliment or a smile, even just a happy face looking at them from across the Piazza. Who am I if I come just to get a bargain and exchange a few worthless coins, whose jingle is beginning to annoy me, for something I don’t even want. It really is unfortunate that I cant speak Italian. I know that God can use my smile, my poor attempt at Italian, and my actions to at least cause a glance in God’s direction. There is not a place on earth where a smile is not understood. 

        We have been on trips almost every day to go to the market, whether the open market, or the supermarket. The other day we were looking for a pair of beach towels so that we could manage to use a towel at the pool without requiring bleach to clean it. While Dennis and Karen moved through the shuffle of vendors and shoppers, I purchased a container of fresh olives and leaned against a metal post right in the middle of the fray. I watched many people as they moved around; bartering, shouting, laughing, glaring, meandering, motioning; there was no lack of movement. A man came up to me as I kept popping olives into my mouth. He stood right next to me and watched me for a second. I looked at him and gave him my curious look when he started to speak to me in Italian. What I got out of the 2 minutes of our conversation is that he wanted to eat one of my olives and have me take a picture of him doing it. I loved it. I offered the little container up to him and gestured him to take an olive by jutting it foreword. I raised my eyebrows and smirked to express my intention. He had a big smile on his face as he happily accepted an olive and proceeded to put it into his mouth so I could see it. I snapped my picture and the moment passed as he walked away with a smile. I turned my head and followed him with my eyes. Turning back, I thought to myself, “What just happened?!” Fun little moment.