September 24, 2010. I remember his hands. As a farmer he plowed the ground. As a carpenter he wielded a hammer. As pastor he reached out and embraced others. As a musician he delighted us on the piano. Some things stand out to me. The time he hosted a young man fresh out of prison in his garage, much to the alarm of everyone. This was his love for people. I remember his slide shows of Africa and his stories of the African children he worked with there. I remember his early morning walks through the forest, where he would pray. I remember the time he took me panning for gold, teaching me how the old timers did it. I remember how he treated people. My impression of him is that he treated us all the same. His generosity was extended to those who never deserved it. I know he wasn't perfect, but he made a strong impression on my life.