Premonitions
In those days the tent meant so much to him! Had he known how to paint innumerable miles and paths, shining stars and dreams, confused dust and flowing streams, his tent would have been the canvas of myriads of brushed strokes of color. The entire universe gathered under his tent, pitched down along the way…like Orion’s lucent Betelgeuse, posing graciously secure under the heavens. God must have heard and seen how radiant and relieved the wanderer was. The tent was to him the realization of his longings, an extension of his thoughts…his wanderings. God must have secretly seen him capturing the stars at night, keeping them in his dreams, securing them in a treasure chest. Running quickly back to the dusty goatskins sewn together, waiting for the cool morning dew; he was finally back home; safe, under the canvas illuminated by the oil lamp. God had watched him wandering, like a noble proud desert Bedouin and jealous of him, he came down and dwelt in a tent too, wandering about in the desert, just like Abraham.
That day was tiring; it was finally time to retire. We had worked all day setting up the camp: a tent for the brothers, a tent for the sisters, a big tent for our evangelistic meetings somewhere in Sicily, plumbing for running water and unpacking. The sun was setting down and I could finally go into my tent, find a spot for my bed, a wooden board on the ground for my sleeping bag and a crate to hold the other few small things I possessed…a Bible, a notebook, soap and aftershave. I could finally lay my head somewhere and so could the other brothers who had worked hard that day. I had secretly left my home and my friends in Naples to travel with this group, wandering around like Abraham, a Bedouin, leaving my things behind, gathering my dreams and trusting in my God who had laid the canvas of heaven. There I was, with Jesus and the tent, my home, my infinite longings finally gathered into my little tent.  The stars outside were about to appear in the Sicilian night sky  – no need for tranquillizers to rest, no anxious self-examination of the past day, just peacefully looking up at the blue canvas inside. A symbiosis of stardust and earth dust, mingling before my eyes… suddenly, like the gracious tail of a lucent comet designing harmoniously before my eyes...I must have fallen asleep.
My sleep that night had been agitated, contrasting with the peaceful feeling of the day in the camp, clashing with my reassuring tent and the tiny spot I had chosen. It was the earth and myself in close contact. The earth that God had created was my home. Abraham also had dreams, but of counting stars; I had dreams of my mother standing outside the tent, wanting to get in, checking me out, taking me back to what I had left. Back to Ur…? Abraham must have also thought at times about these things, when wandering around. Would he forget the stars, the canvas, the cool night watching the Pleiades before going to sleep? Would God take him back to Chaldea, shattering all his dreams and promises? My sleep was agitated that night, bordering on a nightmare, but it was surprisingly short and I quickly woke up. What a relief… it had only been a strange dream! Some were still sleeping…I felt so happy for the new day as I had struggled during the night with my fears - my conscience exorcising my ghosts. Oh well, it had been just a dream.  
That morning, I would step outside the tent to wash and shave at the shower truck, eat some warm semolino for breakfast, get ready for a group-meeting in the big tent, sing a few songs, reach the stage and practice with the band for the evening service. As I walked toward the entrance of the tent, the dream of the past night kept flashing in my mind and my heart pounded for a split second and again…it had been just a dream – no worries. So I opened the overlapped folded tent at the entrance and there they were, my mother and some of my family! Strangely enough, my heart didn’t stop; I was calm, I had been forewarned… as in a premonition. I saw it all happening again, but this time right before my eyes. My Mom went inside to check out the condition in which I was living, and she was crying. I was punched down…there was commotion…my friends surrounded me, others held my brother and then…I disappeared, having been helped by big Jim and Francesco, off to a solitary house in a village for three days. Francesco stayed there to guard. I felt relieved, but I missed my tent. God must have also tiptoed silently, following me away from my tent. God must have counted the growing anxious heartbeats when away from my nest I felt as naked, unprotected and vulnerable, as a leaf in the wind. Three days later I found myself sitting in the Police Station, standing before the Chief of Police. I was asked to choose between my family and home in Naples and the tent. How could I leave the tent, my dreams, my stars and my dear dust? I had made up my mind! God had been with me those three days and both of us were missing our camp and our tents.
That evening I felt as maybe Abraham felt, when he was a wanderer away from his native land. Everything outside seemed so foreign and strange to me: the houses, the streets, people I had never seen before, all that I was accustomed to seeing was no longer there to console me. I had become like the patriarch, believing in something he had never seen before, but aspiring to grasp onto his dreams, counting the stars, moving from land to land, from dust to dust. Everything outside seemed so transient and fleeting, yet inside my tent I felt secure. The next evening my sleep was peaceful… How I longed for a new premonition! Waking up in the morning, I went through the curtain still rubbing my eyes, with the Promised Land in sight. There is an old legend of a magic tent, which could be expanded to shelter an army and contracted to cover a single man. My universe was gathered with me under the tent …and I’m still counting stars.