templating the faith of Paul. God. I recalled the moment I'd realized that He wasn't an American. How confounded I had been to hear the men of the church in Florence pray to Him in italian , assured of Hi s eternal, universal ear! It was then that I could halfway imagine the vastness, the all-encompassing power of my Lord. Then also my heart had been stung with the fact that all people of every nation could claim His power, but few of them knew about Him. I had silently vowed then to share the Lord with all who did 'nt know His love and power. My mind and life were awakened in ways that I can't ever number . Still standing there in the open window of the train, the whooshing blows of wind stinging tears into my eyes , I laughed at the mental picture of me in the crazy hospital following my moped crash on a Greek island. I pictured the middle-aged ordely shoving me through the crowded corridors on a wheelchair with a lopsided wheel and without a leg rest for my injured knee; so there I was in that foreign hospital - sticking my bloody leg up with my hands, being consistently crashed into the walls because of the wayward wheel, with that man in surgical green invading my ears with funky Greek words. And then , to top it off, the doctor had immediately ordered me to peel down my jeans so that I might receive a tetnus shot ; I obliged him and the other twenty or so people who saw me every time my thoughtless orderly opened the door. Yes , times such as those I could never forget. Briefly, I recalled Steve's feet. Oh , how they did stink! I laughed out loud remembering the time when about six of us were crammed into a train compartment trying to grab a couple hours of sleep. As hard as we all tried , none of our noses would exHarding University in Florence cuse the smell of good ole Steve's feet and we couldn 't ask him to sleep with his shoes on. So Donna , surely in a whim of inspiration , had dug out a container of Sea Breeze facial anticeptic from her back pack and administered a thorough de-smelling treatment on Steve's feet. Indeed, we all had learned to accept one another freely - weaknesses , foibles and all - and to uplift on another, even from the pits of four-clay-old dirtiness when we were trave lling and couldn't afford to stay in a hotel with a private shower. We were a family . I finally concluded without reservation that the last five months in Italy on HUF and Italian campaigns had been the most meaningful , happy , character-building and spiritually fortifying months of my entire life. I was a better person than the one which had boarded the first flight over the Atlantic . With that thought in mind , I walked away from the open window of the train and away from my memories to return to my seat next to Daniel , who was violently stripping a box of Italian cookies of its delicate contents. Now back in the States and rutted in the go-getter lifestyle that goes with living here , I often have moments when my mind returns to Italy , to remember the past and to renew my heart with fond and priceless memories. All I can do is quietly utter thanks to my Father for blessing my life with those life-changing months and ask Him to expedite my plans to return there with James, Angela, Daniel and others, blessing us as we go to share His love with the Italians. This hope to return soon to the beloved land of pasta, train strikes, sweaty bus rides , Siestas, talking hands, artful expressions and generous hospitality, is a source of deep personal strength to me as I rise to meet the challenges of each new day. i!?'~ ~ Fran Coon HUF Postcard. Jeff T eag ue , Jennifer Holton , Terri Jewell , Karen Curruth , James McCreary , Paula Robinson , Don na Warren and Dr . Carla Mitchell stop in front of St. Peter's Cathedral to pose for the came ras. ~ photo by Angela Kays. The Ancient World. While at HUF the students take a trip to Athens, Greece and uisit the .l:uins. Two such ruins are the Par . thenon and Mars Hill . ~ photo by James McCreary . Harding University' in Florence 203
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