Similar to a lot of my teammates, I signed up for the world race looking to get uncomfortable. My desires were to experience new things, new places, and new cultures. My motivation was to be pushed closer to the Lord and further away from all the worldliness that consumed my once American Dream, teenage wasteland lifestyle.
To my surprise, the first two months of the race didn’t exactly match those expectations I had set. Expecting to be uncomfortable, instead I was treated with one comfort after another. Bunk beds and a welcoming home instead of tents. Our showers were with clean, sometimes hot water instead of freezing bucket showers. Nutritious, delicious meals instead of the malnutrition and upset tummies I was preparing myself for. Ministry hosts that spoke English instead of a gapping language barrier.
I’m extremely grateful for the way I was taken care of in my time in Ecuador. Even as I reflect in writing this, I am shocked by the ways the Lord provided for me when I expected to be struggling, stripped of all my comforts.
Way too quickly, my time in Ecuador has ended. Struggling to stuff everything back into our packs, we trudged out of the place that had become a beloved home, tearfully saying heartfelt goodbyes to our Ecuadorian family. The ending was bittersweet. Although a bit downcast from the goodbyes and overwhelmed knowing we had an entirely new transition to make, my team was filled with hopeful expectation of the adventure to come in Peru.
Specifically, in the JUNGLE!
…more specifically, alongside the AMAZON RIVER!
Eight days of traveling brought our team closer together. Memories of sleeping an entire night outside of an airport, eating the treat of pizza on the rooftop of our hostel, and lots of slap happy laughter prompted by utter exhaustion were shared. We learned by lots of experience that joy is found in the journey.
Finally, we arrived in the small town of Nauta, Peru to complete our final haul of the long winded journey to its final destination: a farm planted perfectly along the river. Hopping out of the rattily bus, a boat humorously called Felipe awaited us. Our new home was found an hour down the river, surrounded by nothing but water and lots and lots of greenery. We were desolately placed in the jungle, far away from civilization and with no way to leave except by boat.
I would love to explain our life in the jungle to you, but the extreme contrast from peak civilization in the states to this sustaining, simple lifestyle may be downright difficult to grasp.
Picture this: ten girls living in the jungle. Though it is winter in Peru, the weather stays at a constant hot and humid, and our bodies therefore stay at a constant state of sweat. Mosquitos and varieties of other bugs swarm the air, and our legs become so pokodotted with bites, we wonder if obtaining more is even possible. You have to be careful where you step, with four cows living alongside us their cow patties litter the ground. Though cute, we’ve learned these cows are not necessarily cuddly, considering they have a knack for stealing the clothes you just hand washed and take a few bites, but not to worry, with the new talent of sewing we’ve all acquired, no hole is too big of a challenge.
Still, we maintain a general standard of hygiene, by doubling the use of filling up buckets with the tank of rainwater to shower and flush our toilets. Also, the water pressure from a chaotic thunder storm makes for an impressive shower, so we grab our swimsuits, a bar of soap, and our best dance moves and bathe in nature’s very own shower. Bathrooms are also provided on our boat used as transportation to ministry everyday, as well as a little shack when the extremely inclined trek to our house is too intimidating to make.
We are also safe from the loneliness that could naturally set in living away from civilization, because of the eight legged friends lining our house. We find entertainment in naming tarantulas, Marcel becoming a beloved team favorite.
Instead of city noise, lying under bug nets at night our ears are swarmed with the off putting noises of bats in our bathrooms and the wacky calls of jungle birds. We also aren’t complete hermits, though no service or WiFi, we still experience electricity from the hours of 6pm to 9pm powered by a generator.
We eat the three meals a day we are provided, accompanied by hours of chatter, drastically different from the fast paced lifestyle I thought to be normal in the states. Carrying on with work is posed to be quite impossible during the hottest hours of the day, so we are gifted hours of free time where minds can wander, cards played, relationships built, and books read.
Though it may seem backwards considering the summary you just read, I wouldn’t change a thing about life here. There is a general sense of working for what you have, nothing is simply placed at our fingertips. Every time I savor a meal, I think back to struggling to carry the refrigerator out of the boat house up a muddy, steep hill. It was quite the sight to see I can only imagine.
A family of four lives at the farm and I am constantly inspired and amazed by watching their normalcy in a setting so drastically different for me. Rolando, the father, is a man of few words and much action. Every morning before breakfast he is up with the sunrise working on a new project. In the mass of a few hours I watched him dig up their makeshift sewage pipes, fix them, and reinstall them as well as build a flight of stairs and work on railings. I find a new appreciation for the stairs I climb and walls I lean on, knowing that he used the hands and brain the Lord gave him to craft these amazing things.
Things become a lot less average and a lot more special, beautiful, and amazing when you know they’re products of the soil and hardworking, humble hands.
The two little boys living at the farm are quite remarkable as well. Five and eleven years old, the boys are an amazing picture of brotherhood. Because the eleven year old isn’t effected by anything society has to say, he doesn’t think he’s too cool to play with his younger brother. They are each other’s best friends and entertain themselves by their wild raging creativity, allowed to run free and reach its full potential. Their minds aren’t stained by the influence of technology and they have more talent and workmanship under their belts than many men I know. They are excellent boat men and know how to live off the land, jumping in trees to get fruit as a snack and crafting toys from sticks and stones from the ground they walk and sleep on.
Everyday we travel in boats down the river to villages where we sing, dance, and act out bible stories to children who are hungry for the attention and care I feel so blessed to give them. While I stand in front of them in hopes of teaching them about a God who has hope and love for them, I learn so much about that same God for myself. I learn about his creation and how he provides and cares for people that we think deserve pity because they appear to be poor. Because of this, I learn being poor isn’t such a bad thing in the kingdom of God and how there are so many other things to be rich in than materials and the thickness of your wallet. I learn that for me wealth, business, and fancy things are distractions from the things in life that really matter, the things money can’t buy, the things that provide joy, purpose, and meaning.
The jungle is serving me so well. I am gaining so many perspectives, experiences, and valuable lessons. I am able to love the earth and the people that God created in its purest forms. I am being pushed to be more thankful and grateful for the things I have and would normally take for granted and am experiencing the fruit and pleasure of a slower paced life.
