Susan LaffertyPages torn out of old journals rest in my hands. Stapled together. Written by my father at 28 and 29. Newly arrived on the field overseas.
Entries penned in precise style. Possibly with the Parker ink pen I can picture in my mind. Dad’s writing instrument of choice for years.
He turns 90 this month. And this window into his thoughts over 60 years ago reveal the foundation of a life wholeheartedly committed to his Lord.
No ordinary life.
The house was bright and airy. The back door opened to a lovely garden.
A year after we moved our family to Indonesia, we were looking for a house to rent. This one seemed just right. We moved in. And slowly put things in order.
Then Jenna came to me one evening. Afraid. She was 10 years old.
“Every time I go into a dark room at this house, I see the outline of a man. He has two red eyes. I’m scared to go in the dark rooms.”
This was not the first time she had mentioned the red eyes. And it wouldn’t be the last.