The Attack Pop Feared

Lucy wrote this but it is so good it needs to be passed along.

He’s my “Daddy” but after I married and left home, my brothers began calling him “Pop”. All the grandkids call him “Pop” as well. I figured that was only fair since my Granny was married to my Poppa.

Pop came to visit our Belgian home in December 2008. He was interested in our “koelberging” — that’s pronounced “cool berging”, simple enough and means the outdoor cool storage our apartment up on the sixth floor is afforded by the huge slab of blue stone marble that sits beside the front terrace. In the winter months and during the late fall and early spring, the temperature there is perfectly fine for storing extra supplies, vegetables, drinks, even leftovers, that need cool temperatures. We have a tiny [8 or 9 cubic feet] apartment refrigerator. The extra storage certainly comes in handy at times.

So, when he visited, being the ex-military, strategic thinking, “varmint hunter” that he is, Pop asked about the security of our supplies. Isn’t it said somewhere that the military marches on its stomach or something like that? Being former Air Force, Pop was trained in anticipating aerial attacks. We are up on the sixth floor after all so we don’t anticipate the arrival of any cruise ships or tanks that might reach us. An aerial attack? Well, that is certainly a possibility.

Did I mention that Pop is a varmint hunter? He has fought foxes and gophers, skunks and “no-see-ums”, not to mention the wild hogs for years. They’ve attacked his gardens, his guinea fowl and his kitchen. There is one squirrel that has regularly made raids in the back door of Pop’s kitchen for years. Pop has set traps, fired weapons and at times just given in and fed them. He knew that my koelberging was at risk for an attack. It was only a matter of time.

Our front terrace overlooks a portion of park that is home to pigeons, magpies and the occasional stray dog. The pigeons are infamous for seeking human food to eat. This is probably the result of silly humans feeding them. In defense of those humans, can you think of something better to do with leftover bread? Almost any day of the week, you can see the torn pieces of bread that someone dumps out in the park to be gobbled up by the crows, gulls and pigeons that find them and alert their friends.

During the summer that we first moved in here, the terrace next to us became home to two pigeons that built a nest in a flowerbox and proceeded to raise a small family there. The second summer, we watched the recurrence of the nesting and setting. We weren’t sure if the couple were the original pair, offspring of the original or just another random pair that liked the looks of the neighborhood. We realized that the proximity of their home out our home even more at risk.

This year the neighbor next door had cleaned up and rearranged the flowerboxes. They were repotted, after two “empty years” with living vegetation. This makes building a nest rather a challenge. There have been visits next door from several pigeons that have come to assess the possibility of homebuilding on the terrace. I believe I even saw the beginnings of a next but those beginnings were gone after last week’s very strong storm. During the assessment/survey process, there has been the occasional landing of a pigeon on the balcony railing of our apartment. I hurriedly explained to them that this area was not available and they headed off. If John had been left to “explain” it to them . . . well, I shudder to think. He has no mercy.

So after all these preliminaries, I must tell you that the attack Pop feared finally came today. He was right; it was indeed an aerial attack. It wasn’t from the magpies. It wasn’t from the crows. It wasn’t even from the gulls. It was the pigeons. Yes, indeed, those “rats with wings”, as John calls them, attacked.

The attack was from below. He was flying, I assume, under the radar. I assume that if he’d needed speed, he’d have gone higher and come in from above. He was using stealth. He was going to fly in low and take cover in the flora of the terrace. He’d spotted the flowerbox filled with deep purple petunias which appeared to afford him a place to land quickly and hide. He evidently hadn’t been keeping track of the weather to know that it’s been warm here lately. If he had, he’d have realized that the supplies had been moved. Potatoes tend to sprout when they are left out in warm sunny places. Coca-cola actually lightens in color if not protected from the light. Leftovers become poisonous in the lovely warm days we’ve been enjoying. He didn’t know that his target was gone. He only knew he had to attempt to get to the terrace unnoticed, land and quickly take cover.

He aimed for the petunias. He took off from below and headed straight for the flowerboxes that afforded him potential cover. His flight was short and swift. He slowed just enough at the end to attempt a safe landing. He slowed just enough to quietly land and hide. He slowed . . . but it wasn’t enough and then it hit him. Well, actually, he hit it. That force-field, that safety shield, that glass balcony railing that lets John enjoy watching all the travel in the park in the mornings but keeps us all safe when we walk out or sit out on the balcony. He slowed but not enough. He slowed but it was too late. He flew into the glass.

The petunias survived. The glass survived. The pigeon has not been seen since but certainly did not end up lying on the road down below our apartment. We have to assume he survived. There was one casualty the day of the attack and one near fatality. The pigeon’s pride was certainly injured. I believe John almost died laughing.

Yes, the attack Pop feared finally came and my dear sweet husband was almost a casualty.

The Attack Pop Feared

Lucy wrote this but it is so good it needs to be passed along.

He’s my “Daddy” but after I married and left home, my brothers began calling him “Pop”. All the grandkids call him “Pop” as well. I figured that was only fair since my Granny was married to my Poppa.

Pop came to visit our Belgian home in December 2008. He was interested in our “koelberging” — that’s pronounced “cool berging”, simple enough and means the outdoor cool storage our apartment up on the sixth floor is afforded by the huge slab of blue stone marble that sits beside the front terrace. In the winter months and during the late fall and early spring, the temperature there is perfectly fine for storing extra supplies, vegetables, drinks, even leftovers, that need cool temperatures. We have a tiny [8 or 9 cubic feet] apartment refrigerator. The extra storage certainly comes in handy at times.

So, when he visited, being the ex-military, strategic thinking, “varmint hunter” that he is, Pop asked about the security of our supplies. Isn’t it said somewhere that the military marches on its stomach or something like that? Being former Air Force, Pop was trained in anticipating aerial attacks. We are up on the sixth floor after all so we don’t anticipate the arrival of any cruise ships or tanks that might reach us. An aerial attack? Well, that is certainly a possibility.

Did I mention that Pop is a varmint hunter? He has fought foxes and gophers, skunks and “no-see-ums”, not to mention the wild hogs for years. They’ve attacked his gardens, his guinea fowl and his kitchen. There is one squirrel that has regularly made raids in the back door of Pop’s kitchen for years. Pop has set traps, fired weapons and at times just given in and fed them. He knew that my koelberging was at risk for an attack. It was only a matter of time.

Our front terrace overlooks a portion of park that is home to pigeons, magpies and the occasional stray dog. The pigeons are infamous for seeking human food to eat. This is probably the result of silly humans feeding them. In defense of those humans, can you think of something better to do with leftover bread? Almost any day of the week, you can see the torn pieces of bread that someone dumps out in the park to be gobbled up by the crows, gulls and pigeons that find them and alert their friends.

During the summer that we first moved in here, the terrace next to us became home to two pigeons that built a nest in a flowerbox and proceeded to raise a small family there. The second summer, we watched the recurrence of the nesting and setting. We weren’t sure if the couple were the original pair, offspring of the original or just another random pair that liked the looks of the neighborhood. We realized that the proximity of their home out our home even more at risk.

This year the neighbor next door had cleaned up and rearranged the flowerboxes. They were repotted, after two “empty years” with living vegetation. This makes building a nest rather a challenge. There have been visits next door from several pigeons that have come to assess the possibility of homebuilding on the terrace. I believe I even saw the beginnings of a next but those beginnings were gone after last week’s very strong storm. During the assessment/survey process, there has been the occasional landing of a pigeon on the balcony railing of our apartment. I hurriedly explained to them that this area was not available and they headed off. If John had been left to “explain” it to them . . . well, I shudder to think. He has no mercy.

So after all these preliminaries, I must tell you that the attack Pop feared finally came today. He was right; it was indeed an aerial attack. It wasn’t from the magpies. It wasn’t from the crows. It wasn’t even from the gulls. It was the pigeons. Yes, indeed, those “rats with wings”, as John calls them, attacked.

The attack was from below. He was flying, I assume, under the radar. I assume that if he’d needed speed, he’d have gone higher and come in from above. He was using stealth. He was going to fly in low and take cover in the flora of the terrace. He’d spotted the flowerbox filled with deep purple petunias which appeared to afford him a place to land quickly and hide. He evidently hadn’t been keeping track of the weather to know that it’s been warm here lately. If he had, he’d have realized that the supplies had been moved. Potatoes tend to sprout when they are left out in warm sunny places. Coca-cola actually lightens in color if not protected from the light. Leftovers become poisonous in the lovely warm days we’ve been enjoying. He didn’t know that his target was gone. He only knew he had to attempt to get to the terrace unnoticed, land and quickly take cover.

He aimed for the petunias. He took off from below and headed straight for the flowerboxes that afforded him potential cover. His flight was short and swift. He slowed just enough at the end to attempt a safe landing. He slowed just enough to quietly land and hide. He slowed . . . but it wasn’t enough and then it hit him. Well, actually, he hit it. That force-field, that safety shield, that glass balcony railing that lets John enjoy watching all the travel in the park in the mornings but keeps us all safe when we walk out or sit out on the balcony. He slowed but not enough. He slowed but it was too late. He flew into the glass.

The petunias survived. The glass survived. The pigeon has not been seen since but certainly did not end up lying on the road down below our apartment. We have to assume he survived. There was one casualty the day of the attack and one near fatality. The pigeon’s pride was certainly injured. I believe John almost died laughing.

Yes, the attack Pop feared finally came and my dear sweet husband was almost a casualty.

The Attack Pop Feared

Lucy wrote this but it is so good it needs to be passed along.

He’s my “Daddy” but after I married and left home, my brothers began calling him “Pop”. All the grandkids call him “Pop” as well. I figured that was only fair since my Granny was married to my Poppa.

Pop came to visit our Belgian home in December 2008. He was interested in our “koelberging” — that’s pronounced “cool berging”, simple enough and means the outdoor cool storage our apartment up on the sixth floor is afforded by the huge slab of blue stone marble that sits beside the front terrace. In the winter months and during the late fall and early spring, the temperature there is perfectly fine for storing extra supplies, vegetables, drinks, even leftovers, that need cool temperatures. We have a tiny [8 or 9 cubic feet] apartment refrigerator. The extra storage certainly comes in handy at times.

So, when he visited, being the ex-military, strategic thinking, “varmint hunter” that he is, Pop asked about the security of our supplies. Isn’t it said somewhere that the military marches on its stomach or something like that? Being former Air Force, Pop was trained in anticipating aerial attacks. We are up on the sixth floor after all so we don’t anticipate the arrival of any cruise ships or tanks that might reach us. An aerial attack? Well, that is certainly a possibility.

Did I mention that Pop is a varmint hunter? He has fought foxes and gophers, skunks and “no-see-ums”, not to mention the wild hogs for years. They’ve attacked his gardens, his guinea fowl and his kitchen. There is one squirrel that has regularly made raids in the back door of Pop’s kitchen for years. Pop has set traps, fired weapons and at times just given in and fed them. He knew that my koelberging was at risk for an attack. It was only a matter of time.

Our front terrace overlooks a portion of park that is home to pigeons, magpies and the occasional stray dog. The pigeons are infamous for seeking human food to eat. This is probably the result of silly humans feeding them. In defense of those humans, can you think of something better to do with leftover bread? Almost any day of the week, you can see the torn pieces of bread that someone dumps out in the park to be gobbled up by the crows, gulls and pigeons that find them and alert their friends.

During the summer that we first moved in here, the terrace next to us became home to two pigeons that built a nest in a flowerbox and proceeded to raise a small family there. The second summer, we watched the recurrence of the nesting and setting. We weren’t sure if the couple were the original pair, offspring of the original or just another random pair that liked the looks of the neighborhood. We realized that the proximity of their home out our home even more at risk.

This year the neighbor next door had cleaned up and rearranged the flowerboxes. They were repotted, after two “empty years” with living vegetation. This makes building a nest rather a challenge. There have been visits next door from several pigeons that have come to assess the possibility of homebuilding on the terrace. I believe I even saw the beginnings of a next but those beginnings were gone after last week’s very strong storm. During the assessment/survey process, there has been the occasional landing of a pigeon on the balcony railing of our apartment. I hurriedly explained to them that this area was not available and they headed off. If John had been left to “explain” it to them . . . well, I shudder to think. He has no mercy.

So after all these preliminaries, I must tell you that the attack Pop feared finally came today. He was right; it was indeed an aerial attack. It wasn’t from the magpies. It wasn’t from the crows. It wasn’t even from the gulls. It was the pigeons. Yes, indeed, those “rats with wings”, as John calls them, attacked.

The attack was from below. He was flying, I assume, under the radar. I assume that if he’d needed speed, he’d have gone higher and come in from above. He was using stealth. He was going to fly in low and take cover in the flora of the terrace. He’d spotted the flowerbox filled with deep purple petunias which appeared to afford him a place to land quickly and hide. He evidently hadn’t been keeping track of the weather to know that it’s been warm here lately. If he had, he’d have realized that the supplies had been moved. Potatoes tend to sprout when they are left out in warm sunny places. Coca-cola actually lightens in color if not protected from the light. Leftovers become poisonous in the lovely warm days we’ve been enjoying. He didn’t know that his target was gone. He only knew he had to attempt to get to the terrace unnoticed, land and quickly take cover.

He aimed for the petunias. He took off from below and headed straight for the flowerboxes that afforded him potential cover. His flight was short and swift. He slowed just enough at the end to attempt a safe landing. He slowed just enough to quietly land and hide. He slowed . . . but it wasn’t enough and then it hit him. Well, actually, he hit it. That force-field, that safety shield, that glass balcony railing that lets John enjoy watching all the travel in the park in the mornings but keeps us all safe when we walk out or sit out on the balcony. He slowed but not enough. He slowed but it was too late. He flew into the glass.

The petunias survived. The glass survived. The pigeon has not been seen since but certainly did not end up lying on the road down below our apartment. We have to assume he survived. There was one casualty the day of the attack and one near fatality. The pigeon’s pride was certainly injured. I believe John almost died laughing.

Yes, the attack Pop feared finally came and my dear sweet husband was almost a casualty.

Great Promises

When you think about what God has called us to do, it is certainly overwhelming. When I think about the Great Commission in Matthew and Acts, I am overwhelmed by the magnitude of the task and trust. (I often tell people if I were God, I would have a Plan B as Plan A seems to be too much for man.) Think about what God has called, challenged and expected us to do. “Go and make disciples of all peoples of the world . . .” and “You are expected to be My witnesses in Jerusalem, Judea, Samaria and to the limits of your imagination.” (Interpretation is mine)

It does not matter where you find yourself (we are living in an area with 440,000+ people and less than .75% are evangelical Christians, Paul found himself in prison, you are . . .) God is expecting you to be the standard bearer for His Message. Most of the time we feel overwhelmed and alone in the task. We do not act like standard bearers but more like reserves, support troops or prisoners of war.

But there are great promises that go along with the challenge, “Be strong and courageous; don’t be terrified or afraid of them. For it is the LORD your God who goes with you; He will not leave you or forsake you.” (Deut. 31:6); “The LORD is the One who will go before you. He will be with you; He will not leave you or forsake you. Do not be afraid or discouraged.” (Deut. 31:8); “But you shall receive power (ability, efficiency, and might) when the Holy Spirit has come upon you, . . .” (Acts 1:8, AMP).

The challenge of sharing the Gospel Message effectively and/or planting church in places where people do not care for them seems overwhelming. Then I realized it is a team effort. I am responsible to tell the story in a culturally effective manner, the Holy Spirit does the convicting, and God does the saving.

Then it dawned on me, just like a slammed statement from a TV program, “You are the weakest link!” Man what a team and then there is me. But according to the promises above, God is with me even in my part of the task. For that I am grateful.

The challenge now is to live victoriously so that God can do His best through me.

God promises to accomplish His purpose and He allows me to be a part of the plan/effort in doing that. WOW, it’s not that I HAVE to but that I GET TO!

I need to have bigger expectations because of the team that I am on!

Tourism Evangelism

Otherwise known as “shopping for Jesus”. Who would not want to do that, right? I’m sure you heard of it before. Perhaps you’ve heard of it as “marketplace evangelism” or some other catchy phrase. Certainly it is “Great Commission Evangelism” which demonstrates “as you go” at its best. It agrees with the premise that some may plant, others cultivate and still others see the harvest. We are all to be out working in the fields.

We’ve had a visitor recently and I was with her as she was looking for something for her mother in one of our tourist shops. The shopkeeper asked if she might be of some assistance. I took the opportunity to speak a little in her native tongue and asked if she were a “psychic” or “fortuneteller”. She gave me a rather strange, questioning look and denied being one while also saying she didn’t believe in “those”. I told her that my friend was wanting something for her mother but wasn’t sure what her mother might like. Unless the lady was a psychic, she probably couldn’t know what my friend’s mother would like either. We both laughed.

We swapped tales for a while about people who had come into her shop wanting to read her palm and tell her fortune. She said one woman had insisted for ten years now that she was going to have another daughter. So far, no change in the number of children she has. I took the opportunity to share with her about an occurance in my life when I had “predicted” the future so to speak. It involved our coming to Belgium. I was able to share a little with her about believing in God and living life with Him as my “boss”.

“When He said ‘Go to Belgium, we packed and came.’ ” I told her.

The purpose of tourism evangelism is to lead people a little closer to Jesus. For some, closer may be to let them meet someone who is a believer who is pleasant or who has an active seven day a week relationship with God. For some it is to get them thinking about God for the first time in years or even in their life. For some, there will be the opportunity to ask them about making that decision for themselves. You just don’t know where the person you are speaking to is in the “growth” process until you begin that conversation. You can’t determine whether to gently cultivate them or whether to plant a seed or whether they are indeed “ripe for the harvest” until you do a little research.

So that’s another thing “tourism evanglism” is . . . it’s market research. Place to place, shop to shop, as you go, squeeze the fruit a little and see which ones are ripe and which ones need a little more time and care.