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One week ago today, I was saying goodbye to that one country down south and preparing to return to that bigger country I call home. Around this time last week I was waiting in the Lima airport with my teammates for our flight. We had just returned to Peru’s largest city after a week of galavanting around the country. We said ciao to Nauta, spent the night in Iquitos, flew out the next morning to Lima, and hopped on a 24-hour bus ride to Cusco. When we arrived in Cusco, we spent the rest of the day exploring the city, including the beautiful Incan architecture and the hectic street markets. The next morning we took an hour long train ride to the village of Machu Picchu, and the day after that was spent hiking up over 2,000 steps to experience the wonder of t…

Thus begins my Ode to Nauta: Nauta (pronounced now-tuh) is located geographically south of Iquitos, the rainforest’s major city. After flying into Iquitos from Lima, Nauta can be accessed by a two hour bus ride down Peru’s bumpiest jungle streets. Upon arrival, little buggy’s that look like the offspring of a motorcycle and golf cart populate the small roads. The streets are cluttered with trash and small structures made out of old wood and tree leaves that serve as homes and sometimes restaurants. In the center of town, there is small square with a fountain that doesn’t work and a hospital that charges just seven soles to be seen by a doctor ($2.18 USD). There are street vendors and store owners that have kept us fueled and fed these last seven weeks. Nauta is t…

This morning, as I prepared breakfast for fifteen people, I contemplated the toast I was making. Toast is delicious and a delicacy for us jungle folk, but it requires lighting our propane stove and spending 45 minutes grilling it. As I flipped each piece in a skillet, I contemplated a huge advancement for mankind: what if there were some sort of automatic machine that would toast your bread for you? It was in that moment I realized I’m never taking a toaster, or any other appliance, for granted again. I also realized that in two weeks, I will be back home with all my old comforts, hoping to embrace them differently than I ever have. I have been rudely awakened to the vast differences between America and the Amazon Rainforest of Peru. Despite the differences that I could spend a…

The bugs are relentless. The gnats delight in covering us with their kisses; we are left drenched in rosy splotches with blood circled centers. The mosquitoes rise after rain, swarming our shelter and sneaking in through the open areas we weren’t able to cover with netting. I’m convinced they’ve been training their whole lives for this, for the moment when 14 gringos would so willingly present themselves in their territory for two months. They draw blood out of all areas: thumbs, foreheads, necks, pinky toes, anything uncovered. The red ants say hello by leaving a burning sensation on the exposed areas of all available feet. If you’re not left looking like you have some sort of fifteenth century viral infection all over your skin, you’re not doing it right…

I’m currently sitting on a boat on the Amazon River listening to “Colors of the Wind” from Pocahontas. What a coincidence. This place is magical. The people, the smells, the food, the smiles. People say that everything is bigger in Texas.. but they have obviously never been to the Amazon. Everything here is ridiculously big… except the people, who I’m pretty sure average out to be maybe 5 feet tall.  We have tarantulas in Oklahoma, but they are like Amazon tarantulas’ baby cousins. You think you’ve seen a big cockroach in your lifetime? We saw one last week that was as big as my hand. I used to see a bug and run away screaming, fanning my hands in the air. Now I say, “Bring it on,” and flick it away casually like a boss. So, as I sit here listening to Colors of the Wind (it’s on re…

By the time that I’m able to post this, we will have completed our third week of village ministry here and be just shy of having only two and a half weeks left in Peru altogether. It’s crazy to think about how much time has passed. On one hand, it feels like I’ve been living on this farm for an eternity. I’m no longer petrified when I see a tarantula making its way across the inside of our tin roof, and I’ve made my peace with the fact that no matter how often I’m able to shower (which, if I’m being real, is usually every 3-4 days), I will feel clean for approximately two minutes afterwards before I’m covered in mud and sweat from the hike back up the two steep, often slippery hills to our home. The things that were once uncomfortable have become the new normal, and from holding seven-foo…

If you were to ask an American the first word that pops in their head when they hear “Thanksgiving,” most would say turkey, football, food coma, etc. I am in the category that would think first of the delicious food available to us all year long that is somehow extra exciting the fourth week of November. This week in the jungle has felt a lot like Thanksgiving. As I’ve mentioned before, we live on a farm in a wooden shelter at the top of a hill. Our view is the Amazon River and our backyard is the Amazon jungle. We cook own meals of oatmeal, eggs, rice, and canned chicken, and I recently celebrated the anniversary of my millionth PB&J in the jungle. Our neighbors don’t invite us over for dinner a whole lot, mainly because they are cows and spiders and flying…

I will start by emphasizing the true wondrous properties of peanut butter that I never encountered prior to Peru. I’ve always liked peanut butter, but after a month in the jungle, I can confirm peanut butter is a nectar from the heavens. I believe that the Peruvians feel this way too, because here a humble jar of PB costs as much as a herd of cows or a prosthetic limb or an island. We tend to categorize most things we see here by “American big” or “Peruvian big,” with “Peruvian big” being the much larger, more menacing version. For example: Teammate 1: COME KILL THIS HUGE SPIDER Teammate 2: Is it American big or Peruvian big???! Teammate 1: …I guess it’s just American big Teammate 2: You’re fine. Unfortunately, our size syst…

It’s been four years since I last talked to God. It’s been four years since I last had a relationship with God. So if you told me last year that I would be spending my 21st birthday in the Amazon rainforest with 13 people I don’t know, doing ministry work, I would have laughed in your face. I spent four years filling my body with cheap, materialistic imitations. Trading a healthy body and mind for meaningless affection and a meaningless high I was a slave to the pleasures of instant gratification. Always chasing the easiest physical, mental, and emotional way to feel happy and whole. If truth is light then I lived in the dark, I was safe there to hide with my lies. Free from judgement, shame, and condemnation. I was an empty, heartless, shell of a person. I knew something neede…

This week I’ve been reminded of a song I sang at the camp I worked at last summer. The lyrics are: “My God is so big, so strong and so mighty, There’s nothing my God cannot do! The mountains are his, The rivers are his, The stars are his handiwork too. My God is so big, So strong, and so mighty, There’s nothing my God cannot do!” Since being in Peru, I’ve seen mountains, rivers, and the most incredible stars. Living in the Amazon has been a daily reminder of how magnificent God is. Seeing and hearing a new creature everyday allows me a larger glimpse at how big God and His creation is. Waking up to a bird chirping that I’ve never heard before is such a treat! There are so many things he has created, and we get to experience and take joy in another piece of the wonder that is His creati…