Alfredo was three+ going on to four but he did not have the robust energy of a little boy his age. He had been unwell for quite a long while. The diagnosis: Acute Myloid Leukeamia. Dorta, his mother, looked tired. She had left behind family and friends in Medan, Indonesia, and for months now, had been nursing her little boy in the University Malaya Medical centrel. Dorta had that look of devotion and concern that mothers have who are nursing their children through a long and life-threatening illness.

Dorta and Alfredo had come to stay in the Caring Home set up by our church. The Home provides temporary accommodation for outstation cancer patients who are receiving treatment in hospitals in Kuala Lumpur and Selangor.

A Foundation in Medan had paid for Dorta and Alfredo’s flights to KL and would also take care of the costs of the treatment. We provided accommodation and transport to and from hospital. We also extended emotional support and encouragement for this difficult period of their lives.

It was Christmas time when Dorta and Alfredo came to us. I remember the Sunday they came to church. Little Alfredo loved Jesus! He loved singing songs of praise and worship and we were delighted to see him unabashedly come up front and take hold of the mike to sing.

I can see him now. A little guy. Bald. Big, bright eyes and a cheeky grin. His mother is carrying him. He is holding the mike and we hear his earnest child-voice, a little raspy in parts, but he is singing with joy and conviction.

Alfredo loved to sing. He was always ready to sing and the parents in the children’s ward remembered this. They also remembered his friendliness – he would call out greetings from his bed. Alfredo’s favourite food was nasi with chicken.

We grew to love this little boy. He was inquisitive and intelligent. And he had a faith in the Lord Jesus that touched our hearts. He believed in prayer. He wanted us to pray for him. He would close his eyes, put his hands together and say, ‘Amen’ at the close of the prayer. Our church members gave him Christmas gifts.

I was there when he unwrapped them and the delight showed on his face … and in his eyes. He loved the gifts, and talked about taking them back with him to Medan.

The course of treatment required chemotherapy several times a week and different church members provided the transport for mother and child. Dorta would carry him in a sarong strapped from her waist to her shoulders. Many times both mother and child would be worn out after each visit, Alfredo from the drugs and Dorta from the waiting and the caring of her ailing child.

We prayed that God would heal little Alfredo. We wanted to see him well and strong again For a while he seemed to be doing well and then the day came when he had to be readmitted. He picked up an infection and it was giving him a lot of trouble. There were days when he could not eat or drink. He looked so small on the bed but he recognized us and remembered our Chinese names.

The little twinkle in his eyes never failed to encourage me. And yes, he was always ready to berdoa. Eyes closed, hands held together and the Amen. Little Alfredo believed the Lord Jesus was listening when we prayed for him.

But Alfredo was not getting better. I went to visit one afternoon and could see he was growing weaker. He looked wan and tired. He had a pain in his head and he was crying. As always, he was ready for us to pray and to call on the Lord Jesus. But he had begun to tell his mother that he wanted to return to Medan. He communicated his request repeatedly and insistently. The little boy wanted to go home.

Then one evening, we received a call. We rushed to the hospital. Alfredo was hemorrhaging in the brain. He was gravely ill. For days he stayed in the ICU, heavily sedated, linked up to the respirator. The church prayed for the Lord to give him his heart’s desire, to enable him to return home to Medan.

It did not seem possible but the Lord wonderfully did the impossible. Alfredo, although still unwell, was going home!

A doctor would travel with him, and we made the necessary arrangements with the airlines for this special passenger. The night before he was to leave, Vicky and I went to the hospital to pay him a goodbye visit. We brought gifts for him. He was subdued and weak.

Although he was very happy to be going home, it was clear to us that he was still very unwell. He had lost his voice. He wanted to say something and Vicky bent close to listen to him. Alfredo’s voice was a hoarse little whisper but Vicky was able to make out what he was saying. ‘Berdoa.’

That was Alfredo’s request. ‘Berdoa.’ He wanted us to pray. His faith startled and strengthened us. He beckoned to his mother who was cleaning up in the bathroom to come and join us. Again his lips formed the word, ‘Berdoa.’

We drew the curtains and prayed. We prayed to Jesus, our Saviour and Lord who loves us and knows what is happening in our lives. We prayed for this precious little boy whose indomitable faith both comforted and challenged us. Our eyes were wet as we looked at him; the outward man was so weak and frail but the inner man was remarkably strong in the strength of the Lord.

We were at the airport to say ‘Goodbye’ to Alfredo and his mother, Dorta. He looked so small in the wheelchair. We were glad a doctor was accompanying them on the flight. We prayed. One last wave. Goodbye, little Alfredo.

A week later, Dorta rang from Medan. Alfredo had gone home to be with the Lord. He had run his short race well and finished his course. In those few short months with us, Alfredo’s robust faith and love for the Lord Jesus had made its mark on our hearts and lives.

You showed us how to trust the Lord and how to rest in His love. Thank you, little brother. You are safely Home.