Love and loss - farewell to Azka and Mel

Tuesday, February 3, 2026 - rest in peace, Aska

A day we won't forget as Azka, our young friend, is laid to rest. Prayers appreciated for his mother, family, and friends. His memorial service is attended by friends from as far back as grade school. He was beloved by many.

We snap new photos to update some partners, arrange appointments, and write. W keeps moving things over from his office. "We're almost done," we assure each other.

The team meets online in the late afternoon. Meanwhile, the smell of baking banana bread fills the house. We're using up the bananas gifted by Veronica last week; the tops of some burn as the helpers learn how to use the top burner in the oven. With that char cut off, it's ok. We've sent some with friends and our guests have already enjoyed a few loaves. The rest are in the freezer.

Amy sends over a beautiful housewarming gift: a matching table runner and tissue box. Here, every table is set with tissues - no one uses napkins ('serviettes' to Canadians). Items come and go - motorcycle delivery is cheap.

I hardly cook because it's nearly always cheaper to buy fewer groceries. When I look in the fridge today, there are vegetables that will spoil if they're not used. How about soup? We have lots of spices and it might be fun to make something. After a bit of blooming in hot oil, into the pot it all goes! The birds get some ubi (sweet potato) leaves. They're happily chirping in their new location.

The groomers sort out the dogs, who are gleeful about treats when they're finished.

Wednesday - farewell to Dr. Mel Ming

Our dear friend is admitted to hospital with heart failure and slips away from earth into the presence of God. He's one of Waldemar's best friends.

His widow Martha is one of my dear friends. We share children. Our kids married, which makes it doubly difficult to process this loss. We grieve, though not as though without hope. We will see him again. Now he is experiencing the hope and beauty of resurrection power in Christ. Soon our time will come to do the same.

Another round of clearing out and pickups. After we walk, W tackles the men's bathroom with a pressure washer. If kids come to learn English, it's important to have clean bathrooms - and they'll probably prefer a traditional squatty one.

W comes in for a mask, grabs a steel brush, and wears shorts. He says it's disgusting. I refrain from taking a "before" photo of the green floor. Mold. Algae. Everywhere. 

This one was used but not cleaned by the construction crew; ugh. And yesterday the helpers "didn't get to it." The surfaces of the tiles are already gone so even when clean, it looks black and dirty.

The room is also used as a shower for outdoor workers. A traditional Indonesian shower room (bak mandi) has a deep tiled basin or pail full of water beside the hole-in-the-floor toilet. With no toilet paper, water is scooped out for toilet or shower purposes. Coooold water showers! Not for me. But a luxury for some.

I meet with an advisor for an hour. Then I sink into AI research and books about women serving in Pentecostal or Charismatic missions. What a widespread influence these women wield. They used to be primarily from the West but increasingly come from the Global South. They are powerhouses in peacekeeping and social services, besides their confident presentation of Good News.

We toss the lunch leftovers into a pot with broth and add noodles for a delicious supper. We pray together for the families whose tears are falling tonight.

Thursday

Veronika, Kiki, and I put 10,000 steps (over 4 miles) on our shoes. We walk along the river between our hill and the next. The Treetop Walk at the university is still under construction but we explore a few back areas and talk to some artists about their work. This trunk catches my eye. Rubbish is heaped around it. 

Someone carved intricate patterns into it.

Riverside property is a liability, not a privilege here. Rubbish, sewage, and erosion fill the water. But locals bathe in it.

A little slug risks its life on the trail.

Workers straddle a board across bamboo scaffolding. They're building another mosque. This one will block the river and forest views of the apartments behind them.

Someone loves orchids - these bloom in front of their house.

Kiki, Veronica and I have brunch at Dalaroas, a Sundanese buffet. We're not really hungry yet but this tides everyone over until suppertime.

We field pastoral calls during the day. After a quick shower, W and I hang pictures on the walls in the upstairs bedrooms. With overnight guests, we need to get those frames off the floor. We're both worn out when we're done. I've tracked 17,000 steps and 20 flights. That's plenty.

The wedding venue crew drop off all kinds of stuff in late afternoon. "No smoking on the property," W tells them as they light up. They can smoke outside the gate if they must. We want to steward the Project well - we don't want 1) cigarette butts everywhere, nor 2) fires in the compost under the tall trees.

I write the sermon for this weekend's wedding. Life is beautiful and terrible, love and loss. We celebrate life in milestones and mourn when it has run its course.

There's a leak by the tub and another by the toilet. That can't be good. The construction crew is busy at another site; this must be fixed.

Friday

There's no room in my heart for birthday parties, between emotions and wedding preparations. I reluctantly decline going to the Book Group. Besides discussing a book, they're celebrating birthdays. I cook the pasta I promised and send over books for Marjie.

We must complete our move before W's upcoming obligations take over his time. He stops by the locksmith to rekey more locks and does some shopping on the way back, while I work at home.

The wedding planners are here off and on all day, unmaking our living spaces for tomorrow's wedding . Once again, my office looks like the aftermath of a hurricane.

I take photos of the storage shelves - hopefully everything is still there when the wedding is over. 

The upstairs bedrooms are ready for guests. There will be some tweaks after this weekend's wedding visitors leave.

Each room has curtains, a hanging rack, a suitcase table, a rug, and a small desk. We started accumulating furniture for the Project while living at the old place. "Preparation for the mother of all garage sales," W used to grumble. 

Some rooms have more beds than others - but the family expects to sleep almost 40 overnight. Neither W nor I have slept well this week - but we are looking forward to tomorrow's celebration.

We'll see. The family bought a rug to spread in the catering area so the overflow will sleep there. Nights are cold. We bought 10 extra fleece blankets the last time we were at IKEA; those are in a basket in the hall, in case they're needed. Thanks to our generous friends who make such hospitality possible.

The clanging of pipes to erect arches and build a yard-sized tent fills the backyard.

Read more:

* Blessed are those who trust in the LORD, like a tree planted by water, sending out its roots by the stream. In the year of drought it is not anxious, and it does not cease to bear fruit. Jeremiah 17:7,8

* I am the vine; you are the branches. Those who abide in me and I in them bear much fruit. John 15:5

Moravian Prayer: Divine God, come and guide us this day. Help us see the needs of others and give us the willingness to meet those needs with an unjudging spirit of love. Amen.

More sunshine than last week, hurrah

Saturday, January 31, 2026

Today, I must write our monthly update to friends and partners. This is the longest I have ever procrastinated. Usually, I finish the update a week or two before, scheduling it to arrive on the first day of the month.

I am inspired and relaxed by sunshine in the garden, which is coming along after being planted last month. That doesn't make writing any easier. Finally, the letter is sent off.

It's sunny most of the day. What a luxury in this rainy season. While I write, W walks around town finding knobs, hardware, pulls, and mirror mounts. (He puts on the kitchen pulls later in the day.)

The painting I framed earlier today goes in the upstairs hall. And while W is gone, I put up some pictures in the bathrooms.

For lunch, we wander up to check out a new cafe that is opening nearby. It's behind schedule and not yet ready. Trusty #WoerungEthnic is across the street; we decide to go there instead.

Their gardener is excellent. Look at those 9'/3m fronds on the bird nest fern! We sit in the garden, enjoying the sound of the fountains and the landscaping.

They also have a reliably good kitchen. I'm invigorated by the changes in the house. So I order something new-to-me: Chicken Florentine @$5. It includes mashed potatoes and vegetables done just right.

W and I share a spicy eggplant and basil side dish.

W wants stroganoff with butter rice, one of his favorites. He finishes with 2 donuts and a hot latte. "Want some?" he asks. Nope, he'll never have to share coffee or a deep-fried pastry with me.

We walk up the jalan tikus (lit. mouse lane) and take steep uneven steps into the old neighborhood. It's hard to imagine that soon we won't have access to this gate or live under the enormous roof. The house has been a blessing for 11 years.

We load up more items, confirming what comes and what stays behind. I carry off a bamboo ladder that holds towels and W brings one last mirror, which we'll put in a guest room.

In late afternoon, the sun streams in the Project window. The yellow school desk is used for journaling and making calls. A few hours of working on an article brings structure - finally moving forward on this. I like working beside the window. 

Someone with chickens comes by for this wire basket. Someone else takes the dehydrator we got from a friend. And a teacher comes for 3 bags of cardboard building bricks, perfect for a classroom. Things we never use start to leave - yay.

On the new Porch, the orchids are thriving in part-shade.

The variety of blooms is astonishing.

Every bud has opened.

With half the yard left wild (cheaper maintenance), it sometimes feels like we're living in a park.

We walk over to get some dogs for the night. The rest stand guard at the old property.

In the evening, W attends a celebration of achievement for a friend's company. I'm happy to stay in.

Sunday
He's fast. He's big. He's blacker than midnight. When Anton the poodle hears a sound, he'll run across the whole yard or to the gate in a flash. Between running here and there during the night, Anton the poodle has taken out every dog toy and played. He has as much energy as a 14-year-old boy. You know what I mean.

He's been in leash training: I got tired of him lunging ahead. Now, if he pulls forward, I circle or walk the other way. He's a quick learner; after 3 sessions, he has quit pulling. (Why didn't I do this sooner?)

We walk him over to eat and play with the others. He bounces up to Juno (his best buddy), who always tolerates his attention. The dogs are happy to see us - soon we'll all be together night and day. There's only a week until the wedding here, for which we're trying to spare the yard and garden. Hence, we limit the number of dogs at the project overnight.

The volunteers this morning are happy to be serving at IES Bandung.

Titik's second bouquet features a tall stem from her garden. How creative!

We take the main bouquet back to the Project - where it lights up the whole room.

I rework last week's bouquet and set it in the living room.

When we go back at the end of the day, the dogs are sick, throwing up. Maybe they ate jackfruit, which are rotting on the ground. They stink so badly that we plug our noses as we clean up.

Monday

How can it be February? That means rice, sugar, and oil will go in several directions to help local families.

As we're unpacking boxes, I keep sending less-used items onward through the WA group "Yard Sale." This is sold the minute it hits the group.

I put the library in order on the way to hanging pictures upstairs.

Some frames contain wonderful sayings. This one from Brian Andrea is a "story" in a sentence. All his prints make me smile. He has a whole collection of Story People.

The beds are being made up for the next guests, the bathrooms are washed, and the storage rooms are looking tider than when we first flung things inside in our rush to move.

Tuesday
We get heartbreaking news that a dear young man has passed away. We loved Aska and prayed often for him. His mom tells us his funeral is in Jakarta today, too late for us to attend. We pray together and inform his friends. How we'll miss you, Aska. Rest in peace.

Today's the day to complete kitchen storage. The shelves are in place. The Tupperware containers (30 years old?) and small appliances finally get their permanent space.

The contractors are back to fix a pump and a few other small things. Pak Iyan's crew, headed by Pak Bobbi, have been nothing but helpful in renovating a complete ruin into a lovely public/private Project. It's hard to believe that this is what was here half a year ago.

We are grateful every day for a space to share with others. Soon it will host weekly English classes = free for less-privileged neighborhood kids and their moms. (And we don't have to teach! Volunteers run the games and learning activities.) 

Aren't we the luckiest people in the world? If you want to support the Project and the transformation that Tanikota 3 is going to bring, leave your email in a comment or WA me for more information (+62 822 1910 6451). Thanks.

Read more:

* [David] said: “The Lord is my rock, my fortress and my deliverer; my God is my rock, in whom I take refuge, my shield and the horn of my salvation. He is my stronghold, my refuge and my savior—from violent people you save me. “I called to the Lord, who is worthy of praise, and have been saved from my enemies. 2 Samuel 22:2-4

* In response to his people the LORD said, “I am sending you grain, wine, and oil, and you will be satisfied.” Joel 2:19

* Taking the five loaves and the two fish, [Jesus] looked up to heaven and blessed and broke the loaves and gave them to his disciples to set before the people, and he divided the two fish among them all. And all ate and were filled. Mark 6:41-42

Moravian Prayer: Provider, just like the loaves and the fish, you know our needs, and we lift those needs to you each day. Your care for us is tender and beautiful and we are filled with gratitude for your love. Amen.

Lace, games, and the plague of avoidance

Tuesday, January 27, 2026

The bride-to-be chooses lace from a big cardboard box we've been storing. There's still plenty of lace left over. Someone finishing a dress design course gave it to me when we arrived in Jakarta, 11 1/2 years ago. 

No sense in saving it when it can be used. 3 others are in line for what's left.

We check what needs to be moved in the garden. This Bali statue is still sitting on a crate.

Kristi says goodbye as we're heading off to lunch with Evan and Rico. She's flying home tomorrow. Everyone who met her this week exclaims how special time with her is.

#Homeground restaurant is a hit.

A dozen new books in my Kindle are ready to be reviewed. Seems everyone is writing and everyone has something to say. For the curious reader, many pages hold the joy of discovery. I can't wait to read some of them. Others I'll skim.

I make some of tomorrow's sauces in the late afternoon. Ohohohoh. The 2 new woks are excellent - nothing burns in them though; they heat up quickly and evenly. The second-hand kompor, the 2-burner gas stove that is normal here, works well.

I'm getting used to where things are and learning the flow of the U-shaped kitchen. Marble counters on each side run from the door to the window wall. There's a separate pantry for the fridge and freezers next door, so I still get my steps in.

I hang some German placards from my grandma and some I won in Sunday School years ago.

The last meeting of the day is with Alaine, my spiritual director. It's a new kind of exploration: how the body processes what we are feeling. I learn a lot as usual. 

During the night, I plan the layout of the rooms for tomorrow's event. We never know how many are coming; if it rains, as many as 30% of those on the list won't show up. We'll harvest tables, chairs, and floor cushions from around the house. We'll see how it flows tomorrow.

Wednesday

After the walk, we start the water boiling for 3 kg (6 1/2lb) of spaghetti noodles. The U-shaped kitchen is efficient. No more running back and forth like in the old house with a bunch of timers so I didn't scorch the dishes cooking in another room.

I skip the chicken wings but make the usual rest: baby potatoes (cheaper than the regular size), black pepper meatballs, curried sausages, and cheesy creamed vegetables. The yardman and PakG are my tasters; they grab a hot sausage and dip it in the curry. They like it = also an energy boost as their workday begins.

W and I do a walkthrough with the room sketches. We bring chairs and tables from the bedrooms upstairs and set up serving tables in the conference room.

The serving kitchen was not bad but not really interesting either after we placed the appliances and lab cabinet. The cabinet is 7' tall X 4' wide and blocked some of the bland backsplash. I wonder what they had on that wall before.

We picked up 7 used bamboo shelves last year. W put up 3 of the shelves last week. It's a good start.

He climbs the ladder to mount the rest today. The scale is daunting; anything that's not big looks silly on the 12' wall. He helps me haul some art on the highest shelf. I add a few accessories and green vines and it's done. Looks like it's always been there.

I schedule a repeating task on the calendar: "wash the plants." Few things look dowdier than fake plants that are dusty. The bright colors on the propaganda poster we picked up in Vietnam spice up the wall.

It rains off and on but about 70 show up for a games night. Tech isn't set up for movie night yet, but we haven't seen most of these "family" members since November. We miss them so we schedule games instead.

We start with a dinner potluck. Gabi comes early. She's a godsend, setting up the plates while the helpers prepare salad, cheese balls, and rice. Most guests bring food to share. The buffet tables are full but there's hardly anything left by evening's end. Every snack bag is opened, every container looted by hungry young adults.

Some of us sit outside, while others spread around the house. It's the first time at the Project for most people.

It's customary for Indonesians to move around a space; they'll sit here, then get up to sit elsewhere several times during a visit.

We leave windows and doors open and run several fans. The breeze is steady and cooling.

Many newcomers tell us: "We've tried to sign up for movie night for the past months but the list is always full. We're happy to make it today!" We're happy to welcome them, too. I especially love when our longtime "kids" make an effort to "come home" from where they're living to spend time with us. (Yes, you, Donny from Toronto!)

It's a slow and quiet start until they choose games from our growing stash. W and I don't enjoy board games or cards (or any games, really). However, former guests have left behind more than a dozen games, which we heap on the kitchen island. It gets noisy. The room fills with laughter as everyone gets into the spirit of play.

It's usual to take off shoes (even houseshoes) when there's a rug.

This is the first time I've seen young people this absorbed in artwork. I ask them what they see in the abstract paintings and get unexpected insights into their hearts and interests.

The last guests leave about 10PM. But wait!

"There's someone upstairs in the library," W exclaims. MissC loves books and is an introvert. She found a corner and is happily reading, curled up in the library chair. She borrows 3 books to take home.

Thursday

There's been steady rainfall. Last week, a landslide took away 50 houses and killed over 50 people near our usual hiking area. We agree not to hike until the ground stabilizes.

W and I get soaked as we walk the dogs. We turn around partway. It's short: 2500 instead of 6000 steps. My limp hair is due for a color treatment so I start with that. W heads back over to do more packing.

The Project comes back into order. Rugs are vacuumed. Floors are washed. I return the games to the library shelves and toss spent candles. Laundry gets thrown into the washer. Furniture is put back. 

Lunch prep is easy since we snagged food from the almost-gone buffet yesterday. IbuA starts on the next round of banana bread after I shop for eggs. Veronica sent up bananas when she got back from Australia on the weekend. We used up our last 2 loaves last night. Perfect timing. She and Kiki come over for a visit and take some home.

Friday

We're at the old place off and on, retrieiving less-used items. A leather clutch is ruined by careless tipping of the dehumidifier; we don't know if it happened now or has been sitting in water for a long time. 

I post things we haven't used in a year on Yard Sale, our Bandung WA group. A DVD player with a hundred? DVDs is going for $15.

Among things buried in a corner that wasn't accessible, I find a roll of canvas. I unroll it to find a crumpled oil painting. Back in our apartment, I find a frame and a backing board big enough for most of the canvas.

After deciding how to center the painting, I mark its edges. White glue gets smeared on the backing before the canvas is set on top. The wrinkles in the canvas smooth out easily with pressure from a foam paint roller.  When the glue dries, the frame goes around the painting. I'm happy we found it: it looks like it might want to go above the bathtub, doesn't it?

Madeline drops by for a chat. She brings 10 kg of homegrown ubi (sweet potatoes).

"Where do you get these?" I ask. She decided to grow pumpkins and sweet potatoes on her family's fallow acreage. They're delicious when slow-roasted. I WA friends that good ubi is available and several order their own.

"Are you having an event?" Maddy asks. "You ordered 10 kg 2 weeks ago and another 10 now." Yeah, we do have a lot of people over. And everyone who's tried them loves their caramel-sweet flavor.

Saturday

"Ok. Get to work!" I have to force myself to the task I've avoided all week, the monthly update. I enjoyed writing the newsletters in MailChimp, which felt easy and intuitive. When the app monotized to a ridiculous amount, W switched us over to MailerLite. I find it frustrating (not him, the app). It's difficult to insert photos, move around blocks, etc. I have no idea how, even after a half-year.

Every month's newsletter is a struggle. Groan. W's had to rescue me when I get stuck. Well, he's keeping the computer from being thrown and trampled. He set up a template last month, which hopefully will help.

The sun feels good on my face as I write. The green trees and growing garden provide a peaceful and soothing setting. Here we go.

What task have you been avoiding? Is it something you must do? (If not, toss it off the list of to-dos.)

Read more:
* For my thoughts are not your thoughts, nor are your ways my ways, says the LORD. Isaiah 55:8

* Come now, you who say, “Today or tomorrow we will go to such and such a town and spend a year there, doing business and making money.” Instead you ought to say, “If the Lord wishes, we will live and do this or that.” James 4:13,15

Moravian Prayer: Lord of all, forgive us when we doubt your word and fail to trust in your power to deliver us in times of danger and distress. Forgive us when we feel alone in a world where cruelty seems to prevail and our faith is tested—even by those closest to us. Thank you for the blessed assurance of your word, which reminds us that we can rest in your unfailing protection. Amen.