This man after A and I moved back to Indonesia was a man that took such good care of us. He would walk up to our house twice a day and make sure we were okay. If our gate was open he would close it back up and would yell at the kids if they were bothering us and tell them that they are too loud. He was the oldest man in our neighborhood and everyone listened to him. He would always sit in front of his house smoking his pipe and yelling at kids. People would always tell me to be careful, but with him around I felt safe. I knew he was watching out for us.
Today I got a call telling me that he wanted to hear about Jesus in his last days. The people that live in our old house spent his last days with him, telling him about the Jesus we love and helping take care of him.
I sit here late at night... mourning his death. I'm so sad... Tonight I cry because I could hear his voice and so thankful for the way God has brought this wonderful man into my life to protect me in the days that I needed it the most. From our very first year in Indonesia, he sat on his porch... waving every time we went by. As our language got better, P would sit and talk with him... When it was just me and A, he took extra care of us. Thank you!!!
Good-bye Pak (Mr.) A.
