The village people

There has been no blogging of late and for that I blame recent travels and family obligations. Being a pastor's daughter means that you are somewhat part of a very large family, often consisting of people you don't know. I have memories of bumping people on the mall, exchanging greetings (... and by the way they greeted my dad, I'd know that they're members of his church), only to discover that Dad doesn't really know them at all. I remembered meeting people in restaurants, and finding the bills paid for by the same people who bid us good bye earlier. There were also visits to our house by seminary college students, who in time became colleagues of my father. And there were constant streams of out-of-town pastors from all over Java who were invited to speak at the church filling the memories of my childhood.

I grew out of them as years went by. They simply became events of the past, close to be forgotten. About a month ago, my dad was to have his official retirement service from the congregation he had served for 30 years. I couldn't remember the last time I set foot in that church. It has air conditioning, a screen projector on the side and a different lectern, everything else was the same... only smaller. Everyone looked familiar. Everyone smiled and nodded towards us.

During the service I found myself busy trying to recall names and faces. Those who showed up at the service had some sort of significant presence in our family life. Little flashbacks began to appear and more of them surfaced as we stood in front receiving warm wishes from people. There were faces whom I knew when they were teenagers, and now they're parents themselves. There were friends' parents who looked the same, except their hair were all grey. There was this doctor, who made my 'cool-person' list because he was handsome, comforting and had a huge aquarium of arwanas (the dragon fish) many years ago; he had a stroke years ago and now barely recognised people and had to be wheeled on a wheel chair.

It's heart warming to be back, even if I was never very far from it. These people matters to us as a family, and being a part of this community means that we are never alone. It is a bit like having your own village people. I like that. I like my village people.